Opening night jitters

I met some great folks this week. And I felt the love from friends and family at the opening night of my show at  Dixon Gallery and Gardens  here in Memphis.

I think it was right after this shot that I started losing my grip on that wine glass.

I think it was right after this shot that I started losing my grip on that wine glass.

Though I felt a little like a ping pong ball bouncing from one interesting conversation to another I don't think I embarrassed myself in the process. I know I held the same wine glass for two hours. And I also know that I am glad I wore a black shirt because it smelled a little like Pinot Noir the next day. I don't remember drinking anything. And that's probably a good thing as I would probably would have dribbled and drooled in the excitement.

The most rewarding take away is that people were excited about the medium. Many had never seen stitched works like these.  Many were curious about how I make them. And I don't think I had one conversation about grandmother quilts all night. The audience looked at the art as art. Maybe it was the venue? Maybe it was the audience? Whatever it was I think I passed the test.

I spent the next 4 days preparing my noon luncheon presentation for the venue. I've done these presentations before but I am never really really ready. I edit and edit and edit the slides, practice in front of a mirror, print out a script and hold my breath. This time there was a wrinkle that made it even more challenging. The final draft (I think it was number 14) did not get downloaded properly and I had to use the first draft instead. Jokes on me. That draft was SIGNIFICANTLY different from the final. So, up on stage, without a script, I paced and played. I think I made sense. I'm not sure what I said. I know it wasn't on the script. But people seemed genuinely interested.

I learned something: Throw out the script.

And, now, that milestone for this exhibit is in my rear view mirror. whew.

Back to work.

work hard. play hard.

I had some incredibly hard working students at the recent North Country Studio Workshops class I taught at Bennington College. I highly recommend this biannual event.

Bennington College is in Vermont so the weather outside was cold. But the heat generated inside via creativity and the boiler system was unmatched. On the first night of introductions I met professional artists of all stripes. They are avid students with energy and a sense of camaraderie that made me feel welcome at once.

Here's a sampling of the many pieces we all worked with this past week at North Country Studio Workshops

We experimented with textural effects, line quality and trusting the thread to tell us where it wanted to go. I wish now that I had taken a photo of each and every one of these practice squares so that I could remember some of the ways my students explored the techniques. These students were serious worker bees and very talented.

Every time I teach these techniques I learn something new from my students. They energize me and inspire me.

I'm looking forward to the next opportunity at the Hudson River Valley Fiber workshops in April. Sign up now! I would love to work with you and learn from you too.

Emigrating to Norway

Glyphs is on a journey. Maybe lost, maybe stored in a warehouse in Florida, maybe in a customs house in Norway. Maybe hanging in someone's home between here and there. I shipped it on December 10, 2017 along with a few little scraps of raw materials for my friend Kerri.

And now it's lost.

The USPS doesn't really have an answer for me about where it might be. Their tracking is limited to this: The package arrived safely in Miami on December 11 -- not quite what I expected from a tracking process. Our local post office is no help.

I have shipped many pieces to many places. I've never had a piece disappear so thoroughly before. It's a little like watching a child go off to college. Though I am reassured by many folks telling me it may yet turn up this is a real test of letting go for me.

It seems ironic that the news is filled with the idea of immigrating Norwegians when my piece is emigrating to Norway. I hope it learns a new language soon.

ends and beginnings

I emptied my thread ends box today. It held the threads that didn't get used on a piece this year. These threads were active players without a field to play in. They came into existence at the end of thoughts rather than the beginnings. They got snipped off and thrown to the side after trying hard to be part of the team. There are a lot of them.

I've grown used to not being satisfied with each and every work that I create. Like these thread ends some work just doesn't work. The process of creating has become more important to me than the finishing up. For each work that gets finished I estimate that there are two or three pieces that get thrown under the table. Thus, I have fallen in love with my rotary cutter, it facilitates my cut-up-and-rework frame of mind. I am beginning to see a signature style in all of the work. I am drawn to black. I like surprises and there is an undertow of anxiety in all of them.

Cut-up-and-rework pieces

I named the work I finished: Aquifer, Beast, Chaos Ensues, Focus on Something Else, Glyphs, I Need a Third Eye, Ladder to Elsewhere, Looking for the Pattern that Connects, Signals, Thugs, Unglued, and Unmapped.

Some finished pieces

And now I am working on a piece called Ship of Fools.

Ship of Fools work in progress

2018 will be filled with new challenges: a one man show at a local art museum, a proposal to a local venue for a juried show in Memphis, several teaching positions and days and days of continuing my work. It's those last items that I look forward to the most. They provide a silence and thoughtfulness that fills me up.

Happy New Year everyone. Hope to meet some of you this year in workshops. Check out the listings at the right for dates and locations.

May your studio be filled with inspiration and your days full of mystery and wonder.

rushing toward stimuli

Preparing chicken soup today I was chopping onions with the inevitable result of teary eyes. I mentioned this to my grandsons and they both rushed over, one with the scientific explanation of why that was happening and the other eager to chop onions so that he could cry too. We all ended up with wet cheeks and sniffling noses.

cloud_tree_PaulaKovarik.jpg

Rushing toward stimuli.

It's a trait that is tempered with age. Caution sets in. Doubt and preconceived ideas define our comfort map. We stop, look and listen. We teach our kids about the incautious moments of our lives so that they won't have to sustain the shock, hurt or disappointments that we did. We put up fences, set up passwords and require more IDs. We box in the acceptable and fence out the challenging.

I'm glad that kids often dismiss what adults say, preferring to experience the thrill of discovery themselves. I once read that to stay young you must remain curious. You must let the onions make you cry.

I will learn from these boys. Oh yes, I will. Pass me some tissue.