taking stock

Yesterday it was Spring. We were taking stock of all the plants that were hit by an unnatural freeze. The garden changed this year. Despite losing a number of trees and cherished bushes, it regenerated. Bushes are shorter, downed trees left open space for new growth and critters found new homes. Nature shows us that growth, death, rebirth is a cycle. I often have to remind myself of that in my work. Nothing is permanent.

Each day we walk through the garden taking stock of the survivors. We tend to the broken and sweep up the debris into mulch piles. Then the cycle can begin again.

Though I know that it was not Spring yesterday it feels like 2023 passed too quickly. My sense of condensed time continues to spur me on. I have so many ideas to test out, so many techniques to try. So I took stock. I asked myself what, exactly, did I accomplish this year? How do these works inspire more? Should I concentrate on one direction? Or, continue to experiment with new techniques? Does it matter?

Below is a summary document of all the work I created in 2023. Some were successful. Some were learning tools, some were cut up and started over. Click on the image below to see the variety.

Do you take stock of the work you have created in a period of time? Does it energize you to do more?

I’ll be teaching in 2024 at the following venues.
Sign up now to reserve your space!

Stitchin’ Post Workshop
Sisters, OR, Apr. 29 - May 3

Shakerag Workshops
Sewanee, TN, June 10-15

Quilting by the Lake
Auburn, NY, July 15-19

Madelaine Island School of the Arts
Madelaine Island, MN, Aug. 26-30

Front Range Contemporary Quilters
Denver, CO, Sept. 13-16

Design Outside the LInes
Taos, NM, Sept. 22-28

The leaves were dancing

The other day I was driving home after doing some errands. I saw autumn leaves dancing in the street from the turbulence created by the cars driving by. They twirled, jumped and rained down from the sky.

For many years I have been collecting the final scraps of each project. I stitch them together to create garlands of scraps. They remind me of those beaded curtains we used to have in the 70s.

That day they reminded me of the leaves dancing in the street.

Each scrap reminds me of former projects.

That night I watched the news about the wars in Ukraine and Israel. The photos showed remnants of buildings, explosions from bombs, scraps of life. It’s so hard to process that horror. So many people affected. So many lives lost. When I got back to the studio the scraps of stitched fabrics became those scraps of life to me.

I made more.

And more.

The announcers on the tv were talking about collateral damage. How does that make any sense at all? When does it end?

Influences

It’s impossible to process

I hesitate to post these thoughts. Watching the horror on the news is too big, too evil, too dark. I feel the weight of Ukraine. I feel the weight of our dysfunctional political system and now…Israel and Palestine.

It’s dark. Overwhelming. I can fall into despair with each news segment.

While working on this piece for the past three weeks I started with the idea of those invisible things that happen in biological systems. Blood cells, bacteria, infection, growth, coded genomes, and bodily structures. And also the way soil has populations of organic matter full of life and motion. I wanted the detail and texture to represent the complicated environments within and without.

But then the news got more dire. A congress that can’t get their act together. People banning books. War in Ukraine continuing and winter coming. And then Israel and Palestine.

The piece got darker. and darker.

Incursion, 30” x 46”, canvas, ink, batting. Paula Kovarik

Breathe, breathe.

Experiments in texture

Since I am unable to stand for very long while my foot heals I am focusing on things I can do while sitting. And, luckily, sitting at a sewing machine is one of them. I am using this time to do a little experimenting. Experiments in texture.

I use prepared quilt sandwiches that are always sitting at the side of my sewing machine. These 14” x 14” squares are easy to manipulate, unintimidating and always available. I can stitch on them without the feeling that they have to be masterpieces. I can twist and turn on them, splash paint on them or add new layers to them. I can even cut them up to make something new.

I started with this experiment:

I used a lightweight cotton canvas, wool batting and black thread to stitch these rectilinear forms in clusters. Each form is a simple wonky square or triangle that spirals into the center. The thread stops and starts in each form. Normally I would knot and bury the threads at the end and beginning of each form but with this experiment I just clipped them. Leaving the center of the spiral blank left little textural crowns in each form.

I have a lot of batting in my studio. These are three I used in these experiments. The two at the top are wool, my favorite batting. Sometimes I use two layers of wool batting or one of wool and one of cotton to a piece if I want the texture to be more defined. The one on the bottom is an upholstery batting used to cushion arms and seats on chairs. It’s almost one inch thick. I used it for the next experiment.

Notice that the “crowns” are even more defined using this batting. And the rippling that occurs when I stitched the horizontal lines coming out of the forms is very strong. This fat batting actually caused the square to warp and cinch into the middle. It gave me the idea for another experiment: How can I use that cinching to my advantage? Hmm…more on that later perhaps.

Next step, how does a patterned stitch affect the bumpiness of the surface? Notice how the closer I stitch the flatter the fabric. The open repeat pattern in the lower left has pronounced bumps while the sitched repeat patterns at the top right are flatter and more subtle.

I love the bumps, who doesn’t love bumps? The challenge is how to add those bumps in a way that makes sense. Bumps can be heroes or pimples on a flat. They can be intentional or accidental.

In my piece, Stream of Consequences, I used the idea of bumps to define the clouds in the composition. The transition from the flat repeat horizontal lines at the top left to the cloud like bumps at the right shows how controlling your bumps can define the message of the piece.

I start with these questions with each piece that I work on: What combination of fabric and batting is appropriate for my message? How does the patterned stitching I use add to or detract from the whole? How close should my stitching be? What color of thread works for the message I am trying to communicate? How big should the bumps be?

Start small

I have big ideas but small energy. The boot around my foot is like a concrete buoy. I float in and out of possibilities but feel like I can only bob in place. I can’t really stand up for long so cutting and ironing are on hold.

So I started small—A little hand stitching, a little scribbling, a little free motion stitching and I feel like I might be able to think about the big things again. One broken foot does not equal one broken brain.

Flight path is in response to the yellow swallowtail butterflies flitting through the Abelia bush next to the back porch. They are joyous in their feeding frenzy.

I’ll be able to make big things in the future. For now, small is the challenge.