It begins with scent

The stew is simmering on the stove.

This year is different. We won’t be gathering in person. Instead we chose a food swap. Each household will be making some of their favorite foods and sharing it with the other households. We have vegetarians, vegans, meat eaters, dairy-free and gluten-free family members so we threw out the standard menu for Thanksgiving. I am making a curried garbanzo vegetable stew. My niece made red-bean mochi cake, my son is making his signature deviled eggs and my daughter-in-law is making stuffed acorn squash. In the kitchen there is a bread pudding beginning to take form and I have heard rumors of homemade mac and cheese. Pie is on the menu, of course (thank you Miles and Megan).

It might not be the most coordinated menu and some may choose to scatter the makings across several days but the bounty is glorious.

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We have fun at our holiday meals. Years ago I bought some catering tablecloths and fabric markers for our Christmas dinner. Each table setting got a marker to play with. The result has become a tradition. These cloths show children growing up, a scorecard for a family card game, references to Batman movies and phrases of hope. There may be some gravy stains but we don’t worry about those much. Most of all they show our love. They will travel with the food this year. And I will need to get some new ones.

What makes your holidays special?

Wishing all of you a healthy and delicious Thanksgiving day.

We live in challenging times on a miraculous planet. And I am grateful for that.

I’m airing out the holiday tablecloths to ready them for their journey to family homes.

I’m airing out the holiday tablecloths to ready them for their journey to family homes.

When is enough enough?

I stitch a lot. And I have a lot of raw materials that can be stitched.

So I do.

I stitch.

I collect scraps of my quilts that have been chopped up to create new work. Most of them already have stitching and batting and backing so the work is chunkier, more detailed and textural when I use the scraps.

These are some of the quilts that went under the knife this past year. They live on in new work.

A number of the scraps looked like leaves. The toothy quality of those scraps gave me a starting point. I had an idea of creating a jungle of objects.

A number of the scraps looked like leaves. The toothy quality of those scraps gave me a starting point. I had an idea of creating a jungle of objects.

After assembling the scraps I started stitching to make them more consistently textured. The details add action to the piece and connect disparate elements. When I connect the scrap pieces I usually butt the pieces together and over-stitch with a decorative stitch or free motion stitching.

I do love how this section has face, a leaf that could be a feather and a dragon.

So about this time I have to ask myself when is enough enough? I admit that this texture looks wacko. I mean it to be disturbing and frantic. I think my stitching is taking a journey through chaos these days. Does extra detail bring coherence? Am I channeling this confusion to release tension? It just feels right to me.

We Don’t Really Know, Do We?, 27” x 33”, Paula Kovarik

I’m not sure if it is done. Or if it needs more, or if I will cut it up and start again.

Time will tell.

if at first …

trying trying again …

I had this idea long ago that I could create floating globes that would hang in space and allow viewers to insert their heads into them for a different sensory experience. (See It didn’t work for another go at this idea.) For the past few weeks I have been thinking about meditation and isolation and how important alone time is to me. Sometimes I have to shut it all off and just breathe. What if I could create a globe that would isolate me from that emotional and physical noise?

This second try started with a reworked piece that didn’t work. I had all these scraps that were aching to be put together. But the result was just cacophony not simplicity.

I didn’t want the isolation chamber to be all chaos so I created some new raw materials with canvas and black thread. The black thread story line added more narrative to the piece.

The new black and ivory canvas wedges were too stark so I added stitching to them to complement the triangle wedges.

I lined each panel with lace to obscure the chaos outside with a calmer feeling inside.

I sewed all the wedges together and ended up with a loopy globe.

When I reinforced the top and bottom edges with a pvc pipe insert it hangs fairly evenly.

I’m still working out some details. I embroidered a strip of fabric on the inside that says calm_down_calm_down____calm_down__calm_down. And I am rigging the globe so that it can hang from a hook at head height.

So, now, if the news is making me crazy, or my thoughts are too scattered, I can retreat into my own little isolation chamber. A quiet space.

Do you find that you need a space to escape?

It didn't work.

I’ve had this idea for years that I could build a quilt in a globe form and make it into an isolation chamber. And boy, are we isolated. My dreams had a room full of these things that people could put their heads into. They might see the inside of the outside idea. The undergrowth of the wild surroundings.

So I studied globes, brushed up on my geometry, ordered some paper globes, cut out patterns, and experimented with stiffening substrates. I sewed the substrates into fabric. Glued stiffeners to the underside of pieces. Experimented with zipper and hook and eye closures. Built stainless steel rings for support. Developed a pattern big enough for a head.

This quilt, Stream of Consciousness, seemed like the perfect candidate for my isolation chamber. The quilt is a series of 4” squares with drawings that I did with a fabric pen in one sitting. I then sandwiched those drawings with colorful fabric and quilted them all together.

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Here’s what’s left of the quilt after cutting out the orange peel sections.

Then I thought I had it. The patterns worked in muslin. I was ready for prime time. I sliced up the Stream of Consciousness quilt for the body of my first isolation chamber. Sewed it all together, tore it apart, sewed it all together with some interfacing, tore it apart, sewed it all together with some Buckrum, tore it apart and started building cages.

I’m not good with metal. And, by this time, I am getting frustrated. So I set it aside. And used it as a punching bag for a couple of weeks.

Today I realized I have to give it up. Start fresh. Do another one with studied engineering solutions. This one is just too overworked.

The globe hangs in the middle of my studio in its unfinished form. I use it as a punching bag on bad days. It’s quiet inside. Stops the whirring in my brain.

I’ve been adding more stitching with each iteration of assembly. I’m loving this layering of detail.

I do have some pretty strong ideas on what I will do with the next one though.

There were days when I felt deflated. Here’s what happened to the muslin version of the globe. She looks much calmer than I feel.

It’s process not product, it’s process not product, it’s process not product.