breathe

Clear the decks! Bring out the trumpets! Reshuffle the shelving! Close the doors! Breathe.

I need a brain blender to swirl all these thoughts together into a consistent puree. Where did I put that reset button?
Beast, a work in progress, challenges me to leave the ragged ragged. No clean up required.

Beast, a work in progress, challenges me to leave the ragged ragged. No clean up required.

Dipped in early daffodils and icy evenings the moon shots and news jaunts are rousing lightning strikes to what I know is true. My desk and head are piled with idea roadmaps and diagrams. New books to read, new art to create. I'm in at seven and out at four every day breathless and stiff. Body aches ignored I pursue the frenzy because I know it will subside. And then what? Will all these ideas seem like a self conscious effort to put it all together? Or will it give me a clear path to stronger work?

Meanwhile I stitch. On pieces of anger and pieces of doubt and pieces of warning and pieces of angst.

Breathe. Reshuffle the shelving, sweep the scraps, fold the layers together for a whole.  I hesitate. Perhaps a simple, artful journey of color and stitch will clear the sinuses of my angst? Step away from the storm.

Polkadots rock.

Polkadots Rock, a palate cleanser. I had to find some light in the darkness.

Polkadots Rock, a palate cleanser. I had to find some light in the darkness.

I'm working on an online shop to sell my quilts. Watch for that later this month.

Pathways and choices

If you search for the phrase "You're probably not as busy as you say you are" you'll get a number of articles about the psychological weight of feeling overwhelmed and the nature of choice. Today's electronic environment is a rabbithole of interference and distraction. It also inspires.

From Maria Popova's Brain Pickings journal: The stories that we tell ourselves, whether they be false or true, are always real. We act out of those stories, reacting to their realness. William James knew this when he observed: “My experience is what I agree to attend to. Only those items which I notice shape my mind.”

I choose to go down rabbitholes. I choose to allow mystery to guide me. I choose pathways that don't make sense in an effort to abolish the literal.

Stitch pathways mimic the complexity of confusion. Paula Kovarik, 2016

Adding spotlights to the cacophony sorts out simple scenes.

Stream-of-consciousness stitching reveals anxious wanderings. Pathways, Paula Kovarik, 2016

Morning sun gives me some ideas for extra detail bubbling up.

gratefulness on edge

I really wanted a cigarette last week. It's been 13 years since I quit smoking and that does not stop the urge. I really wanted a cigarette last week. On Wednesday I woke up in a cold sweat believing I had started smoking again (because that inevitably means that I would have to quit again). Tension is as tension does.

So my stitching is frenetic. Punching the needle into the cloth with a frenzy that borders on manic.

Health questions in the family generated this invasive species.

Cypress trees on a stress-reducing walk reminded me of the new leaders walking into office — dark and foreboding figures.

An automatic stitching exercise reveals how my head is untethered and askew. Paula Kovarik, 2016

I am focusing on both detail and fuzziness. Big ideas are too big, details mimic the tension.

The fuzzy thinking, edgy tension and churning stomach will end sometime. For now, I will continue stitching, allowing the stitch to tell my story.

Breathe in, breathe out. I am grateful for that.

And I won't light up a cigarette.

The automatic stitching cloth grows larger every day. Paula Kovarik, 2016

chaos ensues

Last week my computer stopped working. It wasn't a firestorm or an earthquake but it did create chaos. Applications, extensions, preferences, archives, backups, bookmarks, 14,566 photos, three years of archived email messages, screensavers and personal sense of peace and harmony disappeared with a simple click of the mouse.

I called my local wizard, Brian, who hand held me through the re-installation and restoration process. We worked together for 4 days navigating the waters of passwords, help desks, chat rooms and operating systems. Trust me, you don't want to go there. But, if you do have to go there, call Brian. He was a model of patience.

And, now that I am up and running again, I'll show you what resulted while waiting for that spiraling beach ball on the computer to stop turning and turning and turning.

This piece starts with a pile of scraps.

This piece starts with a pile of scraps.

After about 3 weeks of piecing I am entranced by the back of the composition. It reflects a behind-the-scenes idea of the structures that hold us all together.

Here's the final composition from the back.

So I baste it to the backing wrong side up. On purpose.

Here's the neat and tidy back of the quilt sandwich ready for stitching. I did the free-motion quilting from this side. The piece is about 6 foot square and it was totally uncooperative. I ended each day with neck pain and back strain. It proved itself to be too big, too persnickety, too much. The open seams on the back of the piece (which would eventually be the front) caught in the feed dogs, rumpled unevenly and refused to cooperate. Turning it over and stitching from the front didn't work either. I started to call it the hateful quilt.

So I cut the whole in half, threw both halves into a hot washing machine and dryer to see what would happen and hung the ragged results on the design wall until I could face it again. hmmm.....kind of liking that squinched up raggedness.......

So I cut the whole in half, threw both halves into a hot washing machine and dryer to see what would happen and hung the ragged results on the design wall until I could face it again. hmmm.....kind of liking that squinched up raggedness.......

This past week, while watching and waiting for the computer gods to grant me asylum I started stitching and stitching and stitching. The stitching reflects my mood. confused, constipated, constrained and scattered.

Here's where I am with it today. I like the raggedness. I like the urgent sense of chaos. I like the release.

That second half waits for its own solution.

That second half waits for its own solution.

More than I want to count

How many decisions does it take?

I started a project about a month ago that included color. A great big pile of color all stitched up together. Rectangles nested, connected and spliced to create a whole. It is a process that demands patience, the power of arbitrary decision, and attention to detail. I can usually count on having two of three of those traits on any given day.

Decisions are endless, if I counted all the seams, snips and rearrangements I would have to seriously question my behavior. For example this little section took most of the morning to figure out. Which way should the red, white and gray composition attach to the orange white and gray section?

When I run out of patience I get distracted. Like: How cool are these wispy thread ends on the back of the piece? They seem to be blowing in the wind, or tangled with an inner confusion. And then I start studying the trimmings. Looking for the answer in chaos.

Stitching scraps together brings new meaning to the whole.

Leftovers reflect the effort of the choices I made.

And now I've turned the whole thing to the back so that I can study that for a while.

I started this piece with no clear goal. I vaguely wanted to create a playground for stitch. Something I could hop, skip and rollerskate over with my thread. And now I'm not so sure. I'll have to take some time to think about it some more, I'll have to find the patience to make some more decisions.