child's eyes

Over and over again I am reminded that awe is the realm of wonder. Children take us there. Leaping into the unknown is their only choice. They've never been here before.

Fountain child, Paula Kovarik

My piece, Pollinators, was accepted into the Delta Arts Exhibition in Little Rock this year.

This week I went to the Delta Exhibition at the Arkansas Art Center in Little Rock to see my piece, Pollinators. I had the double delight of seeing an exhibition of children's artwork in the reception hall. I was awestruck.

These children have a raw sense of composition, color and energy that is unmatched. Their spontaneity and eager mark making make the art in the other rooms look like they are napping. Kudos to their teachers who must be standing by with pride and joy.

The Weird Girl by Camden Wells, first grade

Monster by Roman Serfaty, first grade

I wish I could publish all of the pieces I saw that day. They bring joy and wonder to a day filled with heartbreaking national news. If only we could channel that child-mind to our understanding of life every day. If only we could turn the course of violence into orange monsters that can be contained on sheets of newsprint. If only we could protect these innocents so that we can learn from them. If only we could see that life is joy and wonder.

And awe.

Sliding with abandon.

Mine or theirs?

I've been thinking about influences and how they affect my work. I am conscious of noticing. Conscious of storing up details of line and pattern, images and ideas while at the same time forgetting the details of names and dates, locations and authors. My mind seems to be choosing its limits.

Catalysts is a piece devoted to the idea that noticing begets growth. Thank you to Piet, Pablo, William, Paul, Vasily, Theodore, Lee, Alexander, the bees, trees, birds and my grandchildren. Paula Kovarik

So what happens when I unconsciously add an image that another artist originated? How does that borrowing affect the interpretation of the work? My mind is like a bamboo thicket of remembered (and forgotten) detail. How does it all connect to a cohesive whole? Am I mimicking or channeling? Appropriating or hoarding?

And does it matter?

In this age of instants I crave the considered. The slow brewing. An uncrowded clarity of thought. But the slideshow is moving at a pace that keeps me breathless so I am never certain that the idea is original. Never sure if I am just broadcasting pre-processed thoughts.

taming the bulge

It happens every time I leave the studio for a trip. My head gets filled with images, words, doubts, wishes and ideas. Then I get back to the studio. And freeze.

TMI

My brain is like a whirlpool.

So it was no surprise yesterday when I decided to pursue one of my ideas....in a rush of optimism.....and the medium was not cooperating. Who knew that not basting a piece of linen to a frothy assortment of batting would result in chaos as I stitched inward on a spiral?

I did. I knew it. I was just too impatient to take the time for prep.

I spent the afternoon hand basting the bulgy layers together resulting in a brain-like texture similar to the confusion in my mind.

Spending the afternoon tucking mass into ripples with a basting needle gave me time to reflect. And that reminded me that I chose this medium because of that meditative quality, that time out of space contemplation, the quiet of one stitch at a time.

Seen at the Frankfurt airport

I'll use this image of a dandelion that I shot in Frankfurt as a reminder. Life is fast and can be full of hard surfaces. Some ideas lead to spent flower heads. Others shine brilliantly in the sun. Both are worthwhile and require wild abandon and dogged pursuit.

influences in the ether

The final resting sequence in yoga yesterday brought unsolicited thoughts that were inspirational. But then I forgot to write them down and they disappeared like swallows. Dang, I lost them again. It was something about catching details in the maelstrom. Luring the unknown into the known.

Dreams do that too. They inspire, excite, titillate and awe and then tease, vanish and echo in waking moments. Like trying to grasp a fish in a river—slippery little devils. I want to capture and release them into my art.

I'm reading a book by Brian Doyle called Mink. In it he uses quotes from William Blake poems in a way that brings the mundane into the spiritual. One that has stuck with me since I read it: Everything has its own vortex.

Memory breathes the air of influences. Those little signposts that we log into our catalog of thoughts can often link in disconcerting ways. That flower rising up early this Spring? my mother's death. That song on the radio? an embarrassing adolescent moment. That image of the cat in the hat tipping his striped hat? The joy of rhyme and rhythm.

One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Oh how we rhyme with so little time. 

Work in progress on Catalysts, Paula Kovarik

focusing on dialog

Every day I wait for the sun to pass over my east facing studio window to cast light on my work. Cloudy days remind me to take stock and go inward.

My rocks-with-holes collection inspires me every day. If I sit still enough I can hear the conversations they may be having.

Today is a light gray day. I'd say its about 30% dark out there. Or, you could think of it as 70% light. Days like today give the studio a neutral background, devoid of hot spots and tremors. Days like today let me focus on sound, and smell. Inner thoughts and resting.

What bird collects little pieces of junk? Bowerbird? Magpie? Crow? I need to google it. We have a lot in common. This studio is replete with little alters to trash and treasure. I've been collecting rocks since I was old enough to have pockets.  Watching children animate legos, sticks, and, yes, rocks to tell their stories inspires me to take a look around and wonder who's talking to who. Do those trembling leaves need reassurance? Did that leaning tree really want to nuzzle up to her neighbor? Using raw canvas I have started a series of rock faces that animate my environment. They remind me of cartoon panels. The textural background adds an environment to the imagined communication.

I'm also learning about wire. How it bends, how it twirls and how little I can use to support ideas. The wire is stitch in 3D. More on this later.