scrapped

Earth Stories, scrapped. Paula Kovarik, 2013

Spent yesterday deciding to scrap about 8 weeks of work on a piece devoted to the SAQA exhibition, Earth Stories. Angst, terror, relief, joy, and trepidation pushed me toward the decision. How could I possibly give up? Why spend so much time on something that is not working? Am I overthinking? Where is the piece taking me? Why do I feel like I am swimming up stream on it? Maybe if I spend a few more hours working on it I can salvage it?

No.

It was clear as day that I was making it worse. So happily, and with a sense of relief, I put down the seam ripper, wadded it up and threw it on the "Let's Make Some Pillows" pile. Because once you cut up a piece into 12" squares and put some extra padding behind it, anything looks good.

Now looking forward to the real solution. A more ordered and thoughtful composition that speaks to my original intention.

too pretty

Paula Kovarik, 2013

As I was leaving the house a couple of days ago I snapped this composition of some weeds growing in one of the planters on the deck. The little snow-frosted hearts were too hallmark for my taste but did serve to remind me that we are surrounded by beauty. The swirls of grass have inspiring lines.

reaching

Paula Kovarik, 2013

I love how these tree shadows reach into the horizon. They remind me of how my mind travels down tributaries in exploration. Or how my memories get fuzzier the farther back they go. I'd like to mimic this in stitching somehow.

no foolin'

Paula Kovarik, 2013.

My clients found out I will be climbing to new horizons today. I officially announced that as of April 1, 2013, I will be pursuing my own muse. No Foolin.

untangled

We spent the morning wrestling with the overgrown wisteria vine in our side yard. There was something very satisfying about yanking on a tendril and watching as a whip the length of a football field untangled at my feet. The vine had overtaken a mulberry tree and was threatening to romp on to the oak trees down the fence. We ended up with a huge pile of vines that we reassembled into two 4 foot high by about 8 foot wide nest sculptures. Just hoping that nothing takes root and that we don't invite a passing pterodactyl to roost.