I'm a little worried

Being away from the studio can disrupt the momentum I have in my work. Having just returned from teaching in San Diego and about to leave again for the East Coast, its hard to think about big projects. So I have been doing little things in preparation of the upcoming trip—experimenting with texture, stitching a series of mandala shaped studies (see my previous post here), organizing paperwork, scheduling next year and doing some research. It all feels very minimal.

These lovely bubbles animated the coast while I was in San Diego.

I’ll be driving around the Eastern seaboard in the next 5 weeks. Breathing in sea air and exploring new spaces. I get to teach again in the mountains of Tennessee for a week. That always brings inspiration and ideas. I have decided to bring a sketchbook this time. I don’t normally work in a sketchbook. I have several laying around with the first few pages filled and then nothing. Maybe I can build that practice during this trip.

I’m still a little worried. Breaking momentum tends to loosen the strings of ideas. I flounder, get inpatient and ping pong around the studio. I like being isolated in my studio for hours. And, I like traveling too. Both contribute to my stream of consciousness. Both bring insight and energy to my work.

I think worry is a baseline in my personality. High expectations, subliminal doubt and a sense that I can’t control everything contribute to it. I’m saying it out loud here so that I don’t dwell too much on it during my absence from the studio. Maybe that will work.

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Click on the book cover for a link to Alibris booksellers.

Thank you to all of you who have purchased my book. I’ve had so many people comment that they have enjoyed reading it. It’s a real boost to me to think that I can inspire people to try new ways to stitch. I love teaching these techniques. If you are interested in checking it out you can purchase it online or order it from your local independent bookstore. At Play in the Garden of Stitch provides new ways to think about using stitch in artwork and includes exercises, sewing tips and quilt stories.

I wrote a book

At Play in the Garden of Stitch—thoughts that come while eyeing the needle. 

Published! Available Now.

I put it on paper. It’s now in book form. This is not a quilt.

I spent part of my Covid year writing, analyzing and illustrating my techniques and artwork. After fifteen years of creating and teaching, it was time to tell my story and share my process in a more formal way. 

This is a book of ideas and exercises for those who use stitch in their artwork. What seems like magic are merely (some simple) step-by-step exercises that will lead you to your own creations. 

This is the story of how I work and think as I make new quilts. It contains both successes and failures as both results can lead to finished quilts. One of my favorite exercises is to chop up a finished quilt to re-arrange and re-imagine a new piece working with elements I like and scrapping those I loathe.

As the great Miles Davis says: do not fear mistakes; there are none.
As I like to say: Art is found in the process. And stitching can take you there.

The book contains lavish illustrations of quilts from my students and myself. For many of these, I demonstrate approaches to using stitch as an element of design and art. To understand my process, I include essays from this journal that reveal how I follow the thread or pursue an idea. 

Order “At Play” from any number of bookstores including Barnes and Noble, Target, Indiebound, Discover books and more—such as Amazon. And, if you do find that this book has inspired you to try some new ways to create in stitch, please let me know by leaving a review or sending me an email. I would really appreciate it.

If you are interested in stitch and how to express yourself through free-motion quilting, this book will lead you gently down your own creative path. The secret is starting simple and staying at it.

I want to send out a bucket of thanks to my friend, Kathleen Loomis, for her help in making this book a reality. Her patient review of the content clarified my thoughts and made it a better book. Thanks so much Kathleen.

Time

I’m reading a book about geology (Annals of the Former World by John McPhee). In it McPhee writes about DEEP TIME and how the earth has changed over millennia. But I’m thinking about how time is moving too quickly. It’s eroding my sense of rhythm and progress. As a child the year seemed to move at a glacial pace. Now I’m rushing through thoughts trying to make them fit into the hours that I am able to stay awake. I am jealous of every minute spent away from my studio. It’s April already?

I wonder how long it took for this vine to get wider than the tree it is climbing?

Aging brings transition. I am reassembling the priorities in my life—focusing on depth instead of flash and silence instead of dialog.

This might have been a cheery bathroom tile at some point in its life. Now nature is taking over. With time it will disappear and those little tiles will be artifacts buried in layers of time.

Every year I put a word up on my computer monitor that inspires a long thought, something that lasts longer than a moment, something that can morph over months. I started this about three years ago when I posted It’s Process not Product on my computer. That note is still there. Last year it was Patience. I learned how to say I Can Wait. This year I started with Curiosity because I am still avidly pursuing more detail in my life, more texture, more knowledge. I may add the word Transition to focus on how things need time to change.

What is time to a rock?

An interview with Jane Dunnewold

I had the delightful opportunity to talk with Jane Dunnewold last month as part of her Creative Strength Training interview series. Jane has a robust and comprehensive variety of classes and lectures for artists that are recognized world wide. Take a moment to learn about her practice and her class offerings here. I just registered for one of her lectures today.

Here’s the video recording of our conversation.

Nano-second update

Hello out there. I just noticed that it has been over a month since I last posted anything about my practice. Too much time in the isolation chamber I think. The silence can be like an extra layer of batting between brain cells.

My first Isolation chamber. A quilt that I made back in 2010 is repurposed for this piece.

It’s about this time of year that I do a little housekeeping and rearranging. And, that’s not happening. In past years, I might take the time to look forward to new challenges. And, that’s not happening either. New Year’s resolutions? More of the same.

I’m reading Annals of the Former World by John McPhee. In it he describes some of the processes of planetary formation and geological deep time. Deep time. Billions and trillions of years. Getting my head around that concept inevitably sparks a sense of inconsequential reality. On a planetary time scale we are but a nanosecond of reality. And how can I even think about the size and scope of NANO seconds? Smaller than a breadbox? My life is a micro micro nanosecond in the annals of time. The fact that I am trying to express how I feel, think and act through my art is ephemeral and inconsequential as it relates to the reality of the big stuff around me. So little in something so big.

Nevertheless, I persist. Because art is life. Life is precious. Time is short.

Below are some of the things I worked on this year. If you click on an image you can read a little about each piece.

I spent a lot of nanoseconds in the studio this year. And for that I am grateful.

We live in challenging times on a miraculous planet.

Stitched Dissent , a solo show, opened the year and traveled to 2 other venues.

We traveled to Montgomery, Alabama to visit the National Memorial for Peace and Justice dedicated to the legacy of enslaved Black people. A moving and unforgettable experience.

I continued exploring the possibilities of stitching a continuous line to tell a story.

The year started with a focus on cutting things up to repurpose them.

Pink Rivers is a collage of cut up quilts.

Masks made their appearance this year.

The Covid virus became a life threatening danger early in the year and continues into 2021. Contagion was made in response to that.

One day I couldn’t focus so I started cutting up fabric into 1” strips.

A series of black and white masks started with a quilt that no longer made sense to me.

Silos is in response to the separation of factions by media outlets.

I continue to explore pattern with stitch.

The Urban Arts Commission in Memphis, TN asked me to provide some art for a billboard. This is Decision Points, writ large.

3D forms took center stage in the studio.

Masks with character, made with quilts with no character.

I cut up a Quilt National quilt, The Secret Life of Stones, to produce this 9 patch of masks. It now has new life.

Suspicious eyes.

Who doesn’t love a sausage quilt?

Building isolation chambers has been on my to-do list for a long time. This was my first iteration.

More cut up quilts made into sections for another isolation chamber.

The inside of this chamber is lined with lace and has a continuous ribbon embroidered with the words Calm Down Calm Down Calm Down….

The pile of cut up pieces of quilts gives me endless variation for future assembly.

Pod lights can be turned on and off with a remote control.

Alone Together, made in response to the Quilts in Common group prompt of Isolation. The traditional Dresden Plate pattern is missing pieces.

My first isolation chamber kept collapsing so I cut it in half and made a porthole.