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.

I'm losing it.

After this morning's brief journey through the news I am looking for my brain reset button.

People in Ulan Bator are burning coal, plastic and tires to heat their homes. People from Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq, Ukraine, Nigeria, Albania are dying on the shores of Europe in an effort to find safety from war and prosecution. Sovereign Indian nations are being trampled by oil oligarchs in North Dakota aided and abetted by our government. Water reserves everywhere are threatened with poisons from greedy industries. Refugees in Australia are fenced into offshore island prison camps. Scott Pruitt, an EPA enemy has been named to head the EPA. Young African-American boys are perceived as targets for an overzealous and racist population. Veterans of our army can't get medical coverage after cleaning up the Pacific atoll we bombed into oblivion during nuclear testing. Our new president taunts and preens in his narcissistic acrimony.

They say that if it hurts your heart make art. But there are days that I just can't face it. Days when the news chokes me with despair.  My friend Pat Pauly mentioned Mozart's Requiem today in her online journal. I want to offer the Kyrie, part of Mozart's Mass in C minor as balm to my darkening vision. Click on the feather to hear it for yourself.

And now I will breathe deep and proceed. After darkness comes the light.

thugs

Today marks the beginning of the arduous task of bringing people together regardless of beliefs, regardless of prejudices. The task now is to speak truth to power, recognize that government can be a force for good and also a tool for disaster. We live in a country of laws, checks and balances, and citizens who care.  I recognize that my truth may not be your truth. I will listen. And I will not be silent.

Here are my feelings: malaise, worry, trepidation, confusion. Is this what it feels like when black turns to white, lies become truth, thugs become leaders? It is a dark day. A day when all I can hope for is that bureaucracy forestalls disaster. Dark days beget dark thoughts. Looming edifices of oligarchs and predators march in to offices that purport to protect the meek, the under-served, and the threatened. I'm going to get this darkness out of my system soon but for now I wallow in it. I sink in disbelief. I am sad.

Thugs, work-in-progress, Paula Kovarik

Thugs, work-in-progress, Paula Kovarik

Alternative hairstyles for the center figure: blockhead, firebrand, flipper.

Next in the series?

Liar, liar, a work-in-progress, Paula Kovarik

Let's spend some time together. Join me in July!

I am teaching a 5-day workshop July 16-21 at the Quilting by the Lake fiber program this July. The class is called
Follow the Thread: A New Approach to Free Motion Quilting. And I can't wait! What could be better than spending five days with like-minded explorers? Quilters, artists, curious travelers. What fun!

Our objectives?

We will loosen up and explore new territory with line and stitch. We'll learn to focus on the character of line and personal symbols through simple drawing and stitching exercises. We will accumulate a toolbox of techniques for seeing, interpreting and completing concept-driven work.

  • First we make a mess. Begin to see that line is active and reactive. Remember scribbling? We'll do some of that.
  • Embrace the wonky. Learn to make the most of whatever occurs by joining ideas to line motifs to see what develops ... and perfection is not the objective.
  • Think in thread. Translate what you see into pathways by stitching in continuous line to spur ideas. This is where we prove that 1+1 can really add up to more than 2.
  • Chart a new path. Recognize alternative solutions by using composition to navigate pathways. It really is about the journey. Trust me.
  • Walk the walk. We ask the questions: What did I see today? What inspired me today? What have I learned today? We'll focus on generating ideas through research and observation. You will build your stitching vocabulary and learn to trust the thread to tell your story.

So join us! Register today.

Decision Tree, detail, Paula Kovarik

Let's spend some time together.

Open to all skill levels, free-motion quilting experience a plus.

scraps

I have three bins of fabric that I replenish or deplete with each project. One with scraps of black, one with scraps of color and one with scraps of white.

More often than not I reach into the black bin to start a new project. It might be about the drama, black plays so nicely with white threads dancing. I reach into the scraps-of-color bin for levity and playfulness (and, i must admit, I don't want to be pigeon-holed as a black and white thinker). The white bin holds texture and clarity, like a fresh new sheet of drawing paper.

The bins are a perfect metaphor for the scraps of knowledge, memories and insights I seek. They're a little raggedy, very wrinkled and sometimes useless. But if you put them together in a whole they can sing, or cry, or mutter expletives. Lately, I have been muttering more than singing. It feels like the fabric of the world is being torn and our lives are threatened at every turn.  Finding light and hope is more difficult.

Signals, a work in progress, Paula Kovarik, 2016

PaulaKovarik_2016.jpg

It's a new year. Again. A perfect time to take stock, sort through the clutter and focus on new pathways. In my practice I strive to make the invisible visible, the silent audible and the internal move outside its boundaries. I listen to the clues that surround me and reach into the bins with a feeling that there are endless solutions. There have to be endless solutions, right?

Listen here for the pulse of the world: Radio Garden

And happy new year everyone.