zooming in on inner sections

June 12, 2015

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.

Quilt National reveal

May 26, 2015

One thing about the Quilt National show in Athens, Ohio: the artists have to have a lot of patience. Understand that we actually made the pieces sometime between October 2013 and October 2014. Then, after submission to the show, there is that long wait for the email that says you have been chosen as part of the exhibit, or, you have not.

As an accepted artist, you send in your quilt for final acceptance and photography in December. Then, the longest 6 months in history starts its plodding way. From December to May you hold your breath and try not to say anything to anyone about the piece.

Getting ready to tell the story of my piece, Insomnia: His and Hers at the Quilt National opening. Gathered round me are some of the luminaries in the art quilt world. What could be better than this?

Finally the show comes around and the Dairy Barn hosts the artists and their friends and fans to see the results of the careful choices. I attended the show this weekend and had a great time talking with and meeting the artists, enjoying discussions about the pieces and their relevance to the art form, studying details and colorways, and standing awestruck before many of the accepted pieces. The show was beautiful, varied and thought-provoking.

One of my favorite parts of the weekend is when the artists have the opportunity to talk about their piece for 2 minutes. It is a delightful gathering of fans, friends and luminaries. Betty Busby sent me this photo of me doing my talk during that session. I'm not sure what I said. I think the Dairy Barn is going to post the results of these short clips on You Tube so I will be able to figure out if I made a fool of myself or not.

So here is the reveal of the piece that was accepted to the show. Insomnia: His and Hers were conceived during a period of transition in my life. I had lost my mom, passed my business on to my friend Shannon and set up shop in my studio. I redefined reality for a while -- felt like a rabbit without a hole and couldn't sleep very well. The piece tries to channel that urgency, insecurity and subconscious into a landscape of conscious thought. It is a diptych made with two pillow shams that were given to me by a friend. The quilting is free-motion stitching with my Bernina machine. The two shams have a built up pillow forms behind them that mimic actual pillows.

Insomnia: His and Hers, ©2014 Paula Kovarik

Calming the static prior to sleep can be a journey into the unknown escorted by the imagined and replayed.

I'm going with disorder for now

May 20, 2015

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.

Imperfect union, Paula Kovarik, ripples, 2015

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.

indecision and transformation

May 16, 2015

When my mother died I was left to sort through her memorabilia. Photos galore, many with folks I don't know. Scraps of projects she didn't finish. And many she did. A clay duck I gave her when I was in grammar school, a set of tattered Dresden dolls my father gave her when they were courting. Love letters in a shoe box and years of calendars with circled dates and jottings documenting her life. As I sorted I realized that these little scraps represented some of the best parts of her life. The parts we can't put a name to. The ones that change the quality of life for the good. Even though she noted the fender benders and catastrophes of her life on the calendars she also noted PTA meetings, bridge games, birthdays, and celebrations. She strived for balance, reminding all who would listen that life was good.

So when my grandson gave me this tile as a present for Mother's day I wondered if it would end up in the things-you-can-never-throw-away pile. I use it at my desk for my coffee (he pointed out many times that it was to be used as a coaster). Yesterday it inspired this piece. A study about indecision, balance, ambition and transformation. I'm still thinking about what the title will be. For now it will sit in the do-not-discard pile. Because it was inspired by Derin. And it comes from within.