I floated my fabric in Lake Michigan today. Let the waves take it for a ride. The sparkly reflections were mesmerizing. I almost lost it to the lake.
The water actually looked blue when the fabric went under.
Love the patterns that the light cast onto the fabric under water.
Rocks at the beach speak of long journeys. As I gaze at the sunset I can’t help sorting and sifting through them. Organizing by color, by shape, by smoothness. I am particularly drawn to those shaped like hearts, or perfect circles, or tubes.
But best of all are the ones with holes in them. What force of nature pierced these solid cores and left its mark?
As a child my family would travel to lower Lake Michigan for summer holidays. I still remember that slightly moldering smell of my great aunt’s cabins, moss hanging off the roof and long stairways down to some of the most brilliant beaches of my life. Part of the journey to those cabins was watching with fascination and horror as we passed the steel mills and industrial smokestacks in and around Gary, Indiana. There was a smell of sulfur in the air and a certain dread of having to stop there while traveling through. The landscape was muscular, apocalyptic and wholly man-made.
Lake Michigan beaches are crowded with families this weekend.
The Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore hugs this coast and nestles in with the muscle-bound industry here at the base of the lake.
Botanists, politicians, scientists and neighbors all fought for the unique ecosystems represented here. Bogs and wetlands, black oak forests carpeted with ferns, rivers, ponds and of course, the dunes. Mountains of dunes. Dunes that swallow trees, dunes that shelter wildlife, dunes that build and move relentlessly with the action of the wind. Dunes that actually created beaches for the people in Chicago.
My walk today was in a black oak forest at the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore
I will come to know this area better by spending these two weeks in residency. The National Lakeshore is a string of pearls, preserved and collected piece by piece into an assemblage of unique ecosystems. Though I am still stiff with judgment of how the land has been treated in the past, I see some reluctance on the part of the park rangers to condemn the industry in their midst. I am hopeful that the scientists are paying attention and that the politicians are working hard to save even more of the natural landscape.
Can industry honor the earth and provide jobs at the same time? How does nature adapt to intrusion? The employees of this national lakeshore are here to witness and maintain the sweet origins of the landscape. They educate the public, observe the changing landscapes, and continue the work of the people before them who recognized the richness and diversity of this unique ecosystem.
I'm taking this road show north. What tools are essential?
Leaving behind: that ergonomically correct table and chairs, the custom ironing platform, movable cutting table, large design walls, backyard garden, fabric stash, home library, large screen computer, a good music system, family and familiarity.
Taking with me: scraps of fabric, my sister-in-laws machine (because my Bernina is being temperamental), Black thread, white thread, a pouch of notions, batting, three books of poetry, my camera, my ipad and some scrap paper.
I am not taking any works-in-process. I am not taking preconceived ideas. I am not sure it will all work. But it all fits neatly into this tub. I wonder if trimming excess will build inspiration?
Two of my pieces left their spots on my design wall this past week. They travel to new eyes with an invisible thread to my thoughts.
Don't Go in the Basement, 17" x 16.25" ©2015 Paula Kovarik
Don't Go in the Basement was inspired by a drawing by Jeremy. The wide-mouthed, eyes-focused grin monster leaps out and anchors the lower right corner of this small piece. It is one of the first of my children's drawings projects and is dear to my heart. I know the new owner also loves the piece so I am satisfied it is where it belongs.
Move That Thing, 16" x 11.5", ©2015 Paula Kovarik
My friend Etta owns Move That Thing. These quirky, moving-parts bodies remind me to jitter along when I see it. The talented artist, Amelia, drew the wonderful fish-eat-fish pair at the bottom right. And that sun in the upper right is by the ever sunny Derin. These two artists inspire me to let the inner child out every so often.
I will miss these pieces. When people ask me why I make art I often say it is because I have to.
I am eager to create. I also like to show it, share it and let it journey on. This gives it a life of its own.
