There is a spider and her web in our kitchen window caught between the storm window and the window into the house. I have been watching her all summer.

She seems to be self sufficient and very busy. Food shows up. She builds more web. There are these egg-like shapes that she sculpts and tends. I wonder if they will hatch. Maybe they are mini pantries for meals in the future. I debate about removing the storm window so that she can escape but then I wonder how she got there in the first place. There must be an exit. She chooses to put on this show in the safety of her enclosure. I feel that way sometimes.

I am fascinated by webs and geometry. My phone has hundreds of found textures in its catalog. I never quite know when one of these inspiration shots will show up in my work. This week the webs I have witnessed started showing up in my stitching.

Here’s a series of shots of this work in progress that shows that discovery process.

Step one - intentional meander

I start each morning with a practice piece of stitching, experimenting with density and pattern. This one is kind of a mess so I look for ways to change it. There is no risk in that.

Step two - finding the dialog

Looking for ways to interact with it, I added some wiggly worms with green heads. They make me laugh.

Step three - emphasize the texture

The worms gave me new spaces to define so I find ways to emphasize the texture of the piece. I stitch densely in some places while letting others puff up.

Step four - add some webs

With spider webs in mind I add more detail by stitching over the newly defined shapes with hopping “web” lines.

Step 5 - consider the composition

I’m beginning to like this piece as more than practice stitching. Since all the colors I have used are subtle I want to add more contrast to it in some way. I guess I still have some work to do. Or maybe I will start again with a clearer picture in mind.

I often talk about being in process when making art. If I can divorce myself from my expectations the work becomes more honest and spontaneous. Without the expectation of a successful finished product I learn more. Explore more.

I hope that house spider will last a long time.

Grids are elemental. They anchor, organize and subdivide space. They add order to chaos. They bring structure to cities. They show up everywhere: cages, tiling, supermarket shelves, architectural structures. So when I started this project I aimed to break the grid. I had two projects that were not successful up on my design board that I could use as raw material. Those two, added to the multitude of other scraps I have from unfinished pieces, provided a varied and textural group to work with.

I started by cutting the quilts up into 1, 2 and 4 inch squares. These were the tiles that would fit together conveniently when I butted them up against each other. I use a stitch that looks like a ladder to stitch the tiles together–raw edge to raw edge.

Each tile had its own story left over from previous incarnations. At first blush I liked the combination of the brilliant colored tiles against the neutral black and white canvas tiles. And though there is an implied grid here, it is not regular or confining. The piece could grow in every direction.

I could also use these base tiles to add even more texture and information with layered stitching. I admit I am a bit compulsive. I love traveling across a piece to find ways of joining disparate elements with stitch.

The end result satisfies my goal of interrupting a grid. There’s more to it than that though, the piece satisfies my interest in the mysteries of life—the crazy, cacophonous reality in which we live.

Grid interrupted, 57” x42”, Paula Kovarik

What do you see?