the uncanny

A while back I was driving down a long highway listening to a podcast about the iconography of halos in history and art. The halo, a perfect circle, often glowing, is situated above a person’s head. It’s a signifier of holiness, otherness and mystery. But then, as my mind wandered over the ideas of perfect circles and mystery, a car drove by towing another car that had the words broken halos printed on the back.

That’s what I mean by the uncanny. There are messages buzzing through this universe that, if I pay attention, if I concentrate on the now, if I notice what is odd or exotic, I may get a glimpse into the magic of being in this universe.

Gestation, Paula Kovarik, 2023

Have you seen those photographs of the universe lately?

I’ve been thinking about species and the vast number of them that are disappearing. I’ve been thinking about politicians and how they are lured into power vortexes where progress and empathy for the other is thwarted. I’ve been thinking about our species and how we seem to be pre-disposed to war. I’ve been thinking that life is short—too short to answer any of my questions with reliability.

I’ve been thinking. What if we are just another Petri dish in the grand experiment of the universe? Which vectors will finally bring us to nothingness? What will be left? Will new species emerge?

Sniffer skin, Paula Kovarik

Sometimes I just have to shut it all down. The questions are too big. They bring anxiety, anger and worry. Stitching helps. If I consciously tap into the motion and method of stitch I come closest to BEING HERE NOW. I think that all artists, writers and musicians seek that motion. Maybe the politicians, judges, generals and bosses would benefit from a little stitching. A little ripping out. They could get their own perfect circle hovering above their heads.

A new species

A litter of sniffers, Paula Kovarik

I created a new species this week. Using the stitched canvas shown above, these little guys emerged from the ooze. I’m naming them Sniffers. I have a litter of eight. The little slideshow below introduces each one of them.

Sniffers, a slideshow of fiber art by Paula Kovarik

If I place them just so, they create a perfect circle. Sniffing the air for answers. Big questions or small, my focus is on noticing. Change. Mystery. Differences. Words. Species. Developments.

The Uncanny.

A little respite

This year has been a whirlwind. I traveled more. Taught more. Made more art. Had more questions and found few answers. I am in a state of transition I think. So much of making this art is about questioning why and for whom and for what?

I spent the past couple of days creating a catalog of the HERD show in Clarksville, Tennessee. It was a good exercise. One that summarizes the statement I was making. The show was a lot of work. As I explored the medium and the 3D forms they took on a life of their own. Even headless they spoke to me. The folks at Austin Peay State University made it even better by supporting my vision. I especially loved talking to the students at the university. Many saw fiber art for the first time. I felt good about the result and didn’t really question why I made this art until it all came back to me and invaded the studio. Making it was a natural result of being in process. Thoughtful explorations resulted in work that was bigger than I thought it would be. And now it goes in storage.

The work ahead is to find other venues to which I might send this menagerie of thought and process. That’s the busy work of being a non-represented artist. There are few opportunities to take over a gallery with stuffed headless creatures.

And that’s why I am asking why and for whom and for what.

Click on the image to see the entire catalog in pdf format.

Share your thoughts:

Herd

Two years of work, all in one place. The Herd has invaded the Austin Peay State University New Gallery.

Headless Herd members march into the exhibit on a platform. They are built of quilts made over the past ten years. Photo: Amir Aghareb

My art has an undercurrent of peculiarities and humor. I look for things that are uncanny—those elements in life that don’t quite make sense. They’re on the edge. Darkness seeps in with the cares of the day and moods of the moment. Scratchy, murky textures appear. Grids dissolve. Patterns stop repeating. There is often a dissolution in the narrative.

Moving from two-dimensional surfaces to three-dimensional forms, I built a herd this year. The members have no heads. They are diverse and a little disturbing. Where are they going? What has the herd heard to draw them here? Let loose upon my studio floor and tables, they wandered aimlessly. They could be me and you. They could be them. They stay together, they move as one, letting someone else or something else dictate their actions.

The Herd marches on its platform to watch the I watch too much tv news show.

At the gallery the Herd is flanked by Yesmen. They nod yes when you pull their strings. Area Environments provided some of the designs I created in the form of wallpaper. The piece hanging in front of the wall on the left (Many Moons) is the original that created the wallpaper behind it. Amazing to see my stitching in giant form.

Herd of stuffed headless beasts

photo: Amir Aghareb

One of the Yesmen floats in space with a chuckle on its face. photo: Amir Aghareb

The Dark Matter wallpaper, provided by Area Environments, frames these three pieces: Silos, The Usual Suspects and Thugs. I like how they merge with the patterned paper.

photo: Amir Aghareb

I love watching people get close to my work, zooming in on the detail of the work. Dark Heart, detail. photo: Amir Aghareb

Silos, detail

Michael Dickins at the sewing machine.

As part of the exhibit I had the opportunity to talk with community members about my work during an artist talk. There were a number of people with excellent questions, some of which I really had to think about before speaking. It’s great talking with people who are engaged and curious. The next day I entertained a large group of students during a gallery talk. What could be better? That evening the gallery was open to the public again. I set up a sewing machine so people could try drawing with stitch.

The folks at Austin Peay have been welcoming and supportive. Michael Dickins, the gallery director, created an environment for the work that enhanced the message and invited people to spend time thinking about the work. Dr. Dixie Webb wrote an essay about my work and the show that places me in the slipstream of other artists and art movements. Tobias Layman built benches and the platform to accommodate the works. The addition of the wallpaper from Area Environments topped it all off. As an artist I feel honored to have been invited to have this show. The bonus of meeting and working with these folks has been better than I could have imagined.

The show is up until September 16 in Clarksville, TN—a short hop from Nashville. A little bit of a drive from elsewhere. There is a virtual version of the show on their website.

My heartfelt thanks go to Austin Peay State University department of Art+Design, Center of Excellence for the Creative Arts (CECA), The Association of Academic Museums & Galleries (AAMG) and Area Environments for this opportunity.

Balance and trajectory

I listened to a podcast about speed yesterday (Radiolab). Not the kind we used to take in college to cram for exams, the kind that makes you move from one place to another. They talked about the speed of light, the speed of sound and how this era counts in microseconds and databits.

I experienced the opposite of speed on my travels back from Oregon and the wonderful Design Outside the Lines retreat I taught with Diane Ericson. (f you ever have a chance to study with Diane I highly recommend it. Her approach to garment design changes the axis of the earth.) The folks at the retreat were all hard-working, curious and talented artists. What a joy to work with them!

It took 3 days and 3 cancelled flights to get home. I stood in a lot of lines. I spent time on my phone waiting for help from American Airlines customer service (over two hours!). I had a lot of time to just think and observe. The sound of luggage carts traveling over tiled floors was my soundtrack. It was a test of endurance and one in which I challenged myself to see the humor in it all.

This image really does exist in the Dallas airport. It stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t imagine why they wanted to show this woman with a lizard on her three breasts.

I saw this unique flower while waiting on hold with the customer service agents. It waved at me.

This little sunscape is actually the leftovers of a STAND 6Ft. APART sticker in the airport security area.

Just when we all thought that the worst was over all the phones in the Dallas airport started buzzing with weather warnings. The PA system told us to move away from the windows and shelter in the bathrooms. We were in the bathrooms for about 30 minutes (luckily I didn’t have to go as it would have been a bit embarrassing. I counted over 50 people in the bathroom I was in. Luckily no damage but the thought that the storm was traveling in the same direction as we were going gave us some pause.

I found a new artist to study—Phillip Curtis. This is his Travelers painting in the Phoenix Art Museum. They look like they are having a lot more fun than I was.

Listening to this podcast brought me around to the present and what I was going to do with it. I am energized, motivated and moved by the details of life — those little uncanny moments of wacko. It is spring in Memphis and my headless team greeted me at the door.

I think I will make more of these until they start making sense to me. You have to have a sense of humor right?

I love a parade

Wrestling with rectangles to create 3D forms just seems like the right thing to do right now. Slicing, folding, forming, stitching, stuffing and exploring dimensional work is a substitute for the quiet contemplation that is required for stitching at the machine. I have to find ways to inject humor and distraction into my news cycle. My body is not my body right now. It aches with worry for the future. I have nervous energy. Itchiness at the edge of consciousness. Sorrow for Ukraine, Syria, Afghanistan, Ethiopia. I feel like we are marching into mountains of disaster. I am building a parade—headless beings marching.

These headless creatures have taken over my studio.

I imagine these creatures as travelers. They could be immigrants, exiles, or blind and willful followers. They have piled their belongings onto their backs to move into a future undefined. They carry their wounds, their heritage and history. They leave family behind and seek family ahead.

They toil and fail and get up again.

Each day they join the parade of the absurd.

I might need more space soon.

Art that travels

I teach next week with the Design Outside the Lines workshop led by Diane Ericson. It’ll be new geography for me. They say that Ashland is a magical town. A week away with creative stitchers always inspires me. It might be best all around for me to let these creatures be for a bit.

My piece, In the Weeds, is showing at the Eastern Tennessee State University Slocum Galleries in a show called Positive/Negative 37. So proud to be part of that innovative show. If you are near their campus drop in to see some great work.

I am preparing a show of my work at the National Quilt Museum in Paducah, Kentucky that debuts in May. The museum has offered me a corner gallery. Working with their curator, I have chosen a selection of my work that represents some of the many directions I have traveled as a stitcher.

I am honored to have been chosen for a residency at the Virginia Center for Creative Arts in June. Working for 22 days in isolation among other artists including writers, painters and photographers will be a new challenge for me. It is on the top of my mind these days. What to bring? All the toys or a slim selection? More on that later. What would you bring to a residency?