Enough time to just think. And stitch.

I spent the past week sewing like a madwoman, hours and hours in joy and contemplation. Thinking about influences. And inspirations. The Stitched festival at Crosstown Concourse that I organized and facilitated is over. So now I have time to think.

The work started with these three pieces that did not resolve well. So I cut them up into 5” equilateral triangles.

Though I am jazzed about the work and feel that I really have no choice in the matter—I have to do it— I still have that consistent question hanging over the work at all times: I make art—so what? Some people see it—so what? So what now?

I experimented with a lot of different configurations of these triangles with the underlying thought of what the hive mind can do to ideas. Here they became a beast.

It’s not a self doubting thing. On the contrary I believe the artist mind is critical to society. Its more like I am conscious of other things that seem so much more important. There are people shooting people down in the streets in this country. Lots of them. The government is relaxing standards for environmental stewardship and doubling down on fossil fuels. Our newspapers are failing and fake news is everywhere. Racism, bigotry, nationalism, terrorism, etc. etc. etc. The chaos of all these threats brings a foreboding reality.

Since the precut quilt pieces already have stitching on them the challenge I faced was how to connect the diverse patterns. I was thinking that ideas and communications can be like viruses, floating through space. But also how we suture together a narrative based on our own biases. Standing alone in the midst of forces that are hard to define.

I channel these worries into the art but feel like a micro blip when it comes to reaching an audience. Is it just therapy for my unsettled mind? Do I obsess over stitch to treat the anxiety I feel with regards to the future?  How do you process these thoughts? Do you have them?

Hive mind, Paula Kovarik, 40” x 43.5”, 2019

My act of making art is cerebral, logical and also intuitive. The sense of play is important to me. Seeking meaning through pattern and stitch allows for connections that are not always apparent at first glance. Letting the medium tell me what to do feels spiritual and mysterious. But am I acting in a vacuum? Does art become important only after it is released to the public? Or does the act itself activate an individual wholeness that the artist seeks and therefore adds to the cosmic underlayment of society?

At play in the garden of stitch

Three weeks, three pieces, three inspirations. My weeks have been full of obligations and distractions so I haven’t been able to concentrate on much of anything in my studio. The distractions were also inspirations. So my art shows it.

Those who follow my work will know that I tend to avoid patterned fabrics. Since my focus is on the stitching I like a background that is open and structured. This piece is exemplary of that technique.

Whispered nothings, Paula Kovarik.

These detailed stitch drawings bring story to shape. In this case the story is about the media and how we get our news. The texture that develops can add another layer of drama.

Detail stitching both by hand and machine betray my tendency to believe that more is, in fact, more.

But what now? After a workshop with Pamela Allen I did some hand stitching. This time patterned fabrics were part of the composition — foreign territory for me. I am not a patient hand stitcher so I started machine stitching after awhile.

Patterned fabrics add a sense of mystery to this composition. Stitching adds texture.

This one will stay on the board for awhile until I have the patience to stitch on it some more.

And then I spent a few days with Maria Shell building a community quilt with some folks in Memphis. Her fabrics added a sense of joy and energy to our community quilt that challenged my vision of how things go together. I mined the garbage can to come up with some scraps that I could experiment with on my own.

The scraps are ironed onto a navy blue background.

Added some stitching

And some more stitching.

Then some more stitching. I want to call this “We don’t know what’s down there” because it reminds me of a National Geographic special on the ocean that I watched last week.

I’ve been so happy to have the time to work on these experiments. And happier still to have the opportunity to learn from other artists. Thanks to Michael Brennand-Wood, Pamela Allen and Maria Shell I have a new box of toys to play with.

No turning back

I had the privilege of spending a week at a Shakerag Workshop with Michael Brennand-Wood this past week. It was partially an escape from Memphis and the quilt festival that has entangled my spare moments and partially a way to peel back ossified habits and open up new space in my brain.

It worked on both accounts.

Fungi is an assemblage of quilt pieces, wire structures, wood, stitch and felt—A study in growth and emergence.

First, let me praise Shakerag Workshops. This place is a magical oasis in the hills of Tennessee that brings serious artists (both skilled and unskilled) and teachers to play with each other. The atmosphere is educated, welcoming and full of joy. And the food was from the gods. Go there. No, really, go there.

Michael’s class was called Random Precision: 3-Dimensional Line, Stitch, Structure and Light. We used drills, saws, glue, paint, thread, nails, twisty ties, wires and our thoughts to explore space, light and structure. Michael talked about building artwork physically but also conceptually. We considered the push and pull of dark and light, hard and soft, and structured and unstructured bits. It was a joy. And, it will change the way I look at my own work.

I have been eager to explore 3D qualities with my stitching. Through quilting I can build or deconstruct a flat surface that speaks to my fingers. The traveling thread becomes a narrative element that translates my thoughts. Now I will explore how that thread can build space, encapsulate ideas and stretch the boundaries.

Meek is a bundle of threads and wires.

Eek celebrates stitch and fabric by offering up samples to consider.

These figures and assemblages spoke to me. They tickle my fancy and release the prankster within. They breathe life and rhythm into my space.

Thank you Michael. One of the most generous teachers I have had.

Quilt National 2019

My piece, Disruption, will debut at Quilt National tomorrow in Athens, OH. The Dairy Barn is a treasured space for art quilts and art quilters. I have met some inspiring folks there, seen some inspiring works. I wish I could be there this weekend during the opening festivities. It would be great to get to meet some of the first time artists and catch up with the artists I have met before.

Meanwhile my work will speak for itself. It’s a little raucous. A lot anxious. Ragged on one side and dark on the other. Not sure if the folks at QN will hang the piece away from the wall so that you can see it from both sides. If not, and you are there, ask them to show you the dark side. It’s full of stitch.

The piece is made with a quilt top I pieced then printed with a steamroller. — yes, the same machine they use to flatten roadways. I was given a 4’x8’ wood panel to carve. It was inked, placed on the road and covered in fabric, paper, a felt blanket and wood panels then rolled over with the steamroller. More about that process here and here.

My best to all the artists who will be celebrating this weekend in Athens. I’ll have to wait to see the show some other time.

Disruption, 90” x 40”, 2018, Paula Kovarik

Disruption, the dark side, 90” x 40”, 2018, Paula Kovarik

On expectations

Recently my son unearthed my case of Barbie clothes from the attic and brought them to me. I don’t remember playing with this doll. My memories of early adolescence are og building forts and planning getaway destinations.

My Aunt Emmie provided most of the clothing for this doll with her expert knitting. I’m amazed at her skill now though I don’t remember admiring that skill then. We took it for granted. She had a thing for pink.

All the essentials of a 60s girl were there: swimsuit, cocktail dress, wedding dress and housedress. The clothes gave us a map of expectations. I can see by the rat’s nest of hair that dear Barbie went through some tough times. She ditched the three piece red knit outfit for a mini-skirt and tights. I don’t see any professional clothes or workshop gloves. There is no briefcase, no computer. Yet there are two aprons, one practical with a matching chefs hat and one frilly one to greet her husband upon his return home. I do love to cook.

Barbieclothes.jpg

It’s a box of propaganda that made sense to the executives at Mattel at the time. I’ve heard that Barbie has evolved over time with scuba gear, ski togs and business attire. But she was not evolved while I grew up.. We tried on these women’s uniforms to suit society’s norms. We told these stories to each other through dating games, house play and dress-up. We learned how to walk in heels, put on make-up and wish upon a star. There is probably a version of this narrative out there for girls under 16 to this day.

I’m glad I didn’t follow that pathway. I’m glad that I grew up during a time of questioning authority — a time when women fought for equal rights, a time when civil discourse turned to difficult subjects. The subjects are getting even more difficult now. Our planet, our rights, our nations, our health….all at risk.

So when I look at this little box of expectations I am thinking about how we’re still swimming up stream in a one piece suit, constrained by expectations, overruled by rulers. I think we might need to add some armor to the closet. We’ll need resilience and a fierce belief in each other. We’ll need to put on our big girl pants and stand up, move forward and speak out loud.

Now where did I put that rotary cutter?