Taking Stock

Work harder, temper my expectations, compare notes with others, reach out to those who make sense, stop worrying, take time to rest.

Repeat.

It’s hard for me to learn new behavior. It’s so simple to lapse into that which is familiar. Lately I have been reminded that life is too short to have bad habits. Worrying doesn’t fix things. Five year goals are simply ephemeral. Time rushes.

I am more focused on what I will leave behind in this experiment of life. Other artists have shared the same thoughts with me. I have a sense of urgency and a greater appreciation for that which surrounds us. I can weep when I see a seedling cracking the surface of the soil. I am charmed by birds preparing their nests for the next generation. I am awestruck watching my grandson take his first wobbly steps.

It will all keep going no matter what I think I can control.

Realizing that gives me a pathway for new thoughts.

On teaching

I’ve had a few months to think about why I teach and what I should do about it. At the beginning of summer I was planning a Memphis gathering of like-minded stitchers. Many responded positively to this idea and I was pumped up with excitement. I investigated different venues, researched hotels, Airbnbs, restaurants, payment systems, field trips, caterers, sewing machines and projectors.

I am a planner. I spend a lot of time checking and double checking what I am planning. Then I plan again. All of that eats up time in the studio. Coming back from a one month residency at the Virginia Center of the Creative Arts I realized that all that planning was undermining the time I could spend working on my art. I do not need to be an event planner. I do not need to manage people to do it for me. I need to make art.

For those of you who expressed an interest in coming to Memphis, please do. My studio is always open to intrepid travelers. We can walk by the Mississippi and compare notes on our lives, eat some great food and wander in the gardens. I would love that.

For now I am head down, stitching, breathing deep and reminding myself each day that time rushes on.

From out of the fog

The good thing about forced idleness? Time to think.

Here’s what I came up with:

  • I know that everything is temporary. Including broken wrists.

  • I don’t need to be famous, just inspired. Read more.

  • The garden reminds me that life is short—
    and I am closer to the compost bin than the seed bed.

  • I want more un-interrupted studio time.

Speaking of temporary

I made this red quilt while at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. It was an exercise in being messy, less focused on refinement. Part of the challenge to myself was to offer other artists at the residency to choose scraps that I had to incorporate into the piece. Those pieces are the ones at the bottom of the quilt.

Though I found the work liberating I knew that it wasn’t going to be a serious piece. It was tossed into the scrap bin when I returned to my studio.

It has a great textural back.

That garden thing

Last week I was able to do some work with my weakened wrist. So I started looking around for a new project. This wonderful elephant ear plant inspired me to think about folds as a way to form a 3D shape. I pulled out that red quilt and started cinching the edges. It started to look like the leaf, but then it looked like a head, and then transformed into a tunnel, and now it looks like chrysalis.

Here it is in its temporary configuration. I need to stabilize the folds and play with the top part a bit more but I think it is coming into its own. No expectations. All exploration. Then discovery.

I don’t need much more than that to stay engaged.

I’m back.

Broken plans

At the scene of the crime

Two days ago I broke my wrist. In two places. The fix requires some pins and magic from the bone doctor. He assures me he does this procedure often but that it might mean that I will lose a range of motion with my left hand. That got my attention. I, like other stitchers, use both hands to create work. Typing this with my right hand brings the reality into brighter focus. Luckily I am right handed.

I told a friend of mine recently that I am a five-year planner. In May I spent a month in the glorious spaces at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts at a residency (see a couple of pics of the grounds below). My plan was to use all the time I could in my big white box studio experimenting with new directions and thoughts. No chores, no interruptions, no tv news. I worked hard all day there. With that time I gained a sense of momentum in the work I was doing. Energized, simplified, textural, subtle. I’m ready to do more.

The doc said it might be six to eight weeks before my wrist will work like it is supposed to. Meanwhile I will be drawing instead of stitching, dreaming instead of planning, resting instead of pushing myself to be more active. I’m throwing plans out the door.

I’ll tell you one thing, it ain’t easy for a planner like me.

Quirk, a soft sculpture

I hope this finds you full of inspirations with time to make them a reality.

Please share your story about how some plans go out the door.

send me your story

I'm letting things go.

Every so often I sell a piece. I don’t actively pursue that side of art making. When it happens I have to figure out how to let it go. I have declined offers in the past. The result is my studio has become a warren of finished and half finished pieces. Sometimes I walk sideways through the aisles. Congestion breeds ideas. I’m never afraid of cutting up one piece to start another. For me it is always about Process over Product.

These two pieces had an important part in defining my practice. The Isolation Chamber started the 3D experiments I am still pursuing. And, I watch too much tv news satisfied my urge to speak out about what is going on in the world. The 14 foot scroll moved through its case in a continuous loop reminding me to pay attention. I’m proud of both. And ready to say goodbye.

I sold one and destroyed the other.

In 2018 I decided to make a series of globes into which people could insert their heads to shut out all distractions and contemplate their inner thoughts. I made two of them. Then COVID hit and I realized that people probably wouldn’t want to stick their heads into something that someone else had tried. It became my personal isolation chamber and I put the project on hold.

And now it is on its way to its new home in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

I watch too much tv news is still a true statement. I feel an obligation to know what is going on. The insanity leaks into my work all the time. The tv news piece focuses on how we get the news, who is creating the news and how it affects the outcomes of the people living through it. The fourteen foot scroll runs in a continuous loop just as our history does. We repeat. And then again, we repeat. My frustration with the way things are falling apart drove me to destroy the tv cabinet in which the scroll was housed. I preserved the history (as I hope all history is recorded) but let go of the infrastructure of it. I think it would be nice to wipe the structures clean and start over again. We are clearly mired in insanity. Here’s a video of the action.

The destruction of I watch too much tv news

The video, the trashed case and the scroll will all be part of the solo show I will have at the Schweinfurth Art Museum October 31 – January 3, 2027. Join me at the opening on Halloween of this year.

A little news

I met artist Hamlett Dobbins last year. Not only is he a talented artist but he is also the wizard behind the website called Memphis Material, an oral history project collecting interviews from Memphis’ visual arts community. When he contacted me about being part of the archive I was hesitant. It meant being interviewed about my life and how I came to be an artist. It always makes me nervous to be interviewed. Will I remember dates? names? will I say uh 400 times? But Hamlett’s easy, welcoming, curious manner made the uncomfortable, comfortable. I appreciate what he is doing and love listening to all of the stories of the incredible artists here in Memphis. I invite you to explore the many points of view the visual arts community in Memphis present.

Today marks the finish of my piece called Burst. While it was a work in progress I called it 02.28.26, a reference to the war in Iran. It measures 41” x 36” with a forward protrusion of about 10”. It bursts from the wall.

Burst, a 3D fiber art sculpture with explosive features made by Paula Kovarik