Hello out there. I just noticed that it has been over a month since I last posted anything about my practice. Too much time in the isolation chamber I think. The silence can be like an extra layer of batting between brain cells.

My first Isolation chamber. A quilt that I made back in 2010 is repurposed for this piece.

It’s about this time of year that I do a little housekeeping and rearranging. And, that’s not happening. In past years, I might take the time to look forward to new challenges. And, that’s not happening either. New Year’s resolutions? More of the same.

I’m reading Annals of the Former World by John McPhee. In it he describes some of the processes of planetary formation and geological deep time. Deep time. Billions and trillions of years. Getting my head around that concept inevitably sparks a sense of inconsequential reality. On a planetary time scale we are but a nanosecond of reality. And how can I even think about the size and scope of NANO seconds? Smaller than a breadbox? My life is a micro micro nanosecond in the annals of time. The fact that I am trying to express how I feel, think and act through my art is ephemeral and inconsequential as it relates to the reality of the big stuff around me. So little in something so big.

Nevertheless, I persist. Because art is life. Life is precious. Time is short.

Below are some of the things I worked on this year. If you click on an image you can read a little about each piece.

I spent a lot of nanoseconds in the studio this year. And for that I am grateful.

We live in challenging times on a miraculous planet.

How did you spend 2020? Tell me your tale!

Stitched Dissent , a solo show, opened the year and traveled to 2 other venues.

We traveled to Montgomery, Alabama to visit the National Memorial for Peace and Justice dedicated to the legacy of enslaved Black people. A moving and unforgettable experience.

I continued exploring the possibilities of stitching a continuous line to tell a story.

The year started with a focus on cutting things up to repurpose them.

Pink Rivers is a collage of cut up quilts.

Masks made their appearance this year.

The Covid virus became a life threatening danger early in the year and continues into 2021. Contagion was made in response to that.

One day I couldn’t focus so I started cutting up fabric into 1” strips.

A series of black and white masks started with a quilt that no longer made sense to me.

Silos is in response to the separation of factions by media outlets.

I continue to explore pattern with stitch.

The Urban Arts Commission in Memphis, TN asked me to provide some art for a billboard. This is Decision Points, writ large.

3D forms took center stage in the studio.

Masks with character, made with quilts with no character.

I cut up a Quilt National quilt, The Secret Life of Stones, to produce this 9 patch of masks. It now has new life.

Suspicious eyes.

Who doesn’t love a sausage quilt?

Building isolation chambers has been on my to-do list for a long time. This was my first iteration.

More cut up quilts made into sections for another isolation chamber.

The inside of this chamber is lined with lace and has a continuous ribbon embroidered with the words Calm Down Calm Down Calm Down….

The pile of cut up pieces of quilts gives me endless variation for future assembly.

Pod lights can be turned on and off with a remote control.

Alone Together, made in response to the Quilts in Common group prompt of Isolation. The traditional Dresden Plate pattern is missing pieces.

My first isolation chamber kept collapsing so I cut it in half and made a porthole.

Anybody out there?

I’ve been watching the news a lot lately. Looking for hope, solutions and solace. I come away with anxiety instead. I enjoy an occasional good news story when I can find one. John Krasinski has started an instagram feed with his SomeGoodNews show that has lightened my spirits. I’ve finished two large jigsaw puzzles and I think that should be on every doctor’s prescription pad. Reading takes me away (I recommend Bridge of Clay by Markus Zusak and Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead. I just started Adam Bede by George Eliot but I am not sure why) . Yet, I still fall into darkness when I think of the effect of this pandemic.

My life is relatively normal compared to many. I spend a lot of time in my studio. I call and write to friends and relatives to be sure they are still OK. We gather at zoom meetings to say I love you again and again. And I make art.

The pandemic has wormed its dirty little fingers into that work.

Contagion, 28”x28”, Paula Kovarik — *Contagion*, 28”x28”, Paula Kovarik

Contagion, detail. — *Contagion*, detail.

Building these masks has been a challenge. I have a mechanism inside that allows their tongues to wag. Still debating about their bodies.

The studio is full of diversions. But I am questioning the reasons to pursue them.

It is a bright and perfect Spring outside. The garden is ablaze in color. Noticing that is a daily gift—a major miracle that reminds me that life is abundant and thriving.

There really aren’t any words I can find to process this experience. I feel it on my skin. It streams in my ears. The distraction of worry seeps into my core. And life is beautiful and abundant and hopeful at the same time. How will these challenges change the way we live life from now on?

What are your strategies for coping?

send me a note, a whisper