Nano-second update

January 7, 2021

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.

The Evolution of one piece of work

October 16, 2020

Back in 2015, I had the opportunity to do an artist residency in the dunes of Lake Michigan. I was captivated by the lake stones. They had personality, presence and power.

Soon after I started stitching them.

They populated my studio to the point that I had faces looking at me from every corner. So I started putting them together. I had this idea that they were trying to tell us something but in a language all their own.

I liked how the stitching looked on the front as well as the back of the work. I hand-stitched more texture, added extra batting, and let them tell me what they wanted to say.

The final piece, called The Secret Life of Stones, was juried into Quilt National 2017 and traveled for three years.

The Secret Life of Stones, Paula Kovarik, 2016, 40” x 47”, canvas, cotton thread, wool and cotton batting. — *The Secret Life of Stones*, Paula Kovarik, 2016, 40” x 47”, canvas, cotton thread, wool and cotton batting.

It came back to me last year and went into storage. I really didn’t know what I was going to do with it so I stacked it up with the others and waited until it spoke to me. And, if you follow this journal, you will know that I am in a cutting up kind of mood. Nothing is precious. All things must evolve.

So I cut it up.

And made some masks.

And some more.

It’s showing up in other experiments too. Playful things that give me a little laugh during these stressful times.

There are still some scraps to consider. They’ll join the rest of them in my scrap box.

Every so often one or two of them speak to me and give me something else to think about.

Cutting up what might be considered precious allows me to let go of the legacy of it and be in the moment. I seek that feeling of exploration and discovery in every work I create. Using up, re-configuring, re-imagining raw materials can lead to disaster or development. When it is a disaster, I learn. And that’s what I am here for. To learn, to excite, to think of alternatives. All things must evolve.

Would you like to make a mask with one of your pieces? Email me and I will send you a pdf pattern for the base.

send me a mask pattern!

speechless

March 17, 2017

Deep silence within. Sorting through the mumbo jumbo to sift away the hype. I am speechless.

Speechless, Paula Kovarik, 2017 — *Speechless*, Paula Kovarik, 2017

seeking solace

July 22, 2016

I took this picture a few years ago. It speaks to my yearning for a community that gathers with compassion. Meeting on the town square used to be a way of sharing good news and consoling those with bad news. We would keep tabs on the latest births and nod in agreement at how difficult life can be. Lending a hand if need be. Touching each other with soft embraces.

Today the town square has been replaced by media channels that shout about our differences and post horrific news via 140 character soundbites. Even the weather channel is now called the Severe Weather Center. Our communications have been reduced to photos with captions, videos with click bait and two-thumbed typing with hashtags. Essayists have difficulty getting published because so many publications are being gobbled up and shut down by the mega corps. Our newspaper in Memphis is now going to be produced in Nashville. How can we possibly get a feel for community that way?