All fenced in. Now what?

The completed tulle and silver thread fence for my refugee project is ready for final attachment to the piece -- which starts a new inner dialog. Is it too pretty? What the &%#! does it mean? And where do I go from here?

For some reason this simple cloth has challenged me at each stage (see other articles here and here). Should I do a map (again)? How does pretty influence meaning? What do other people see in the work? What did I mean by the piece in the first place? And the second place? and the third?

Have I lost the string?

The tulle and silver thread weaving creates the look I was after, a fence that supersedes the space it defines.

I think I am closer with this iteration. But I will still look at it with peripheral vision for a while just to be sure. I know this: It's too pretty. It may need to be three-dimensional. It may need to float in space. There needs to be strife. Meanwhile, some detail shots for your consideration. Tell me what you see?

These olive branches on the edges of the original tablecloth were part of the reason I used the cloth. I haven't yet figured out how they will connect to the primary image.

These olive branches on the edges of the original tablecloth were part of the reason I used the cloth. I haven't yet figured out how they will connect to the primary image.

building fences

Continued reading and research about refugee populations reveals a consistent discussion about building fences. To keep people out. To keep people in. Made of barbed wire, chain link, bricks and mortar or fabricated steel these fences are inhumane and daunting for those who seek safety, or food, or family. Whether it is between Mexico and the US or Hungary and Serbia the fences foster enmity, strife and violence. Guards with automatic weapons treat children as criminals. Countries stop talking about solutions and focus on defense. As these refugees encounter the barriers their lives are lost trying to find protection from thugs, food for their families, jobs for themselves.

As part of a study on this topic I am creating a piece that begins with a stitched tablecloth (see more about that here). I want to add a fence to the piece without obscuring the stitching beneath. I experimented with various materials including an actual section of chain link laid on top of the tablecloth (hmm...how to trim the edges?). I hand knotted a web of thread using a fisherman's guidance for fishing nets, in three different weights.

I built a jig that would allow me to string thread through a grid to create a fence of thread (which I thought I could hit with a solution of white glue to stiffen the gridded thread) and finally, I thought maybe I could just draw it on. None of these solutions worked. So the piece has lingered in my peripheral vision.

Until yesterday when I saw a collage by an artist who was layering textural elements over each other. The result looked like peeling paint. Not my goal. But the layering did spur an idea of how I could accomplish my goal of adding a fence to the piece.

Fences are solid, immutable objects that define space. But there are other types of fences that we erect that affect our lives. Those of fear, racism, anxiety and nationalism to name a few. Governments use laws and decrees to exclude or include. People sort their lives by choosing and defining groups that are acceptable and unacceptable to them. Voting districts are defined by those in power.

Fences can be solid or diaphanous, made of steel or made of prejudice.

I decided I would create a layer for this piece in progress. I printed out my drawing of the structure and taped it to a foam board. Layering the drawing with tulle that is stabilized on the back of the board I am weaving a silver thread through the tulle to create a subtle fence that can be cast over the stitched base.

We'll see if this works.

zooming in on inner sections

inner-sections, a work in progress. 2015, Paula Kovarik

inner-sections, a work in progress. 2015, Paula Kovarik

One of the best parts of any quilt is the fact that the closer you get the more you see. It's important to my art that people see a strong composition that reads from afar. But I also want to draw the viewer in to see details and depth.

This piece exemplifies that focus. The first layer is the piecing. The color scraps of fabric came together gradually to form this composition. It was done randomly, I knew only that I wanted a dark side and a light. (see more information about this process here)

Second, I focused on the intersections of the fabrics and stitched tangent lines at each seam in black and white across the piece. So, whenever two fabrics touched each other I separated them by stitching a line across the surface of the piece --black stitching on the white ground, white stitching on the black. My theory was that the overall composition would create hotspots of intersections where the seams would reveal invisible connections that a casual glance would not reveal. My theory seemed proven when I noticed nests of black lines between the two figures on the white ground.

Third, I decided to highlight the areas that formed triangles with green thread. This creates another level of dimension in the piece. Sort of like a floating superstructure.

zooming in reveals nests of stitching that are formed by the tangent lines and the floating green triangles that seem to hover over the piece.

Zooming in even closer reveals textural detail of the black on black stitching in the upper portion of the composition. This texture might be hard to see in this shot, very difficult to photograph. Adding this level of texture seems to complete the picture for me. I think I am close to binding this piece and trying another version.

slowing down again

Hand stitching slows down life. It is a finishing stage of my work. The added texture, detail and color creates a nuanced meaning to the work. It requires a higher level of concentration. There are two pieces in my studio that require this level concentration now. 

Hive

For over a year this piece has developed into a study in consciousness, serendipity and connections. It is an assemblage of cast offs and stitching that weaves across the surface in chaos. For the last month it has stared down at me with a level of confusion that stopped the work. It was too chaotic, too disjointed. And, because I decided a while back that it needed to be a two-sided piece the complication of that made me a little dizzy. If I added an element on one side it affected the other. So it stopped. 

Then, just as I was leaving for a bike trip with friends, I had an AHA! moment. I realized I needed something that would tie it all together, knitting the elements into one organism, back and front. 

Thus was born a hive pattern. Hand-stitched over the chaos, through both front and back. 

The 50m orange-red top-stitching thread glows on the dark side of this piece. 

The same orange-red thread on the light side of the piece is more graphic. The color stands out in some areas but disappears in others. Two inch hexagons create mini frames of details in the piece. 

Immigration

The flag quilt is getting its layer of hand stitching in a different way. The gnarled, intertwined texture of the stitches is defining patterns of growth, migration and connections. I think of mending when I work on this piece. Mending the edges of communities, mending the rawness of connections. 

Slowing down time allows calm and supports meaning. I recommend it. 

I'm going with disorder for now

Recently I got an email from one of my readers who said that one of her teachers left her with this thought one day:

Disorder is unnamed order.

This might be a perfect time to share a piece that was close to being cut up over the weekend. Luckily for me I shared it with a friend who said it just needed more thought. She couldn't put a name to it but had a number of comments that showed me how she perceived the piece. And, our conversation about it gave me new perspective on how I might proceed. You might recognize the piece from previous posts. It is a flag made with scraps and scrapings from the studio. A study of immigration, assembly and union.

Adding more stitching created a bumpy topography that bordered on chaos.

There's movement alright, a rippling and straining that only bias stitching can create.

Trouble was, I had this brilliant idea that if I stitched a radiating line out from each of the hand applied stars in the composition it would add movement and convey the coming together of the states.

But, without a good substrate to bolster the bias stitching the flag waves and wanders over the table as if in animated agony. Bubbles, bulges and pits are not a pretty thing.

Going back to my original intention for the piece -- a study of immigration and union -- conflict and resolution -- life stories and belonging, I realized that bulges and bubbles may be just what it needs. Our nation is a compilation of histories. The disorder is resolved by naming the injustices, applying the rule of law and coming together in harmony.

So for now I am adding more stitching. Journeys of thread texture, gatherings of thread colonies and backbones of thread tracks. I am adding order to disorder and naming it This Imperfect Union.

This may take awhile.