a studio visit

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, 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?

May we all rejoice in small miracles and find the strength to fight large beasts.

isolation

I am watching the news with ever growing anxiety. I worry for my family, friends and neighbors. I look for evidence that our government has a plan that will get us over the challenges we face today. Economic collapse, healthcare systems in chaos, supply chains disrupted — we are in one heck of a mess.

Knowledge Has Raw Edges, detail. Paula Kovarik

My natural mode is self-isolation. I prefer to be alone. But I can imagine that others who are forced to do this will have a hard time adjusting. Bills are already piling up. Grocery shopping requires a battle plan. Visits with friends are relegated to that little screen in our hands. Text messages are replacing hugs. Sniffles feel like serious threats instead of seasonal annoyances. We need to reconfigure.

Un-Disrupt.

The toxicity of anxiety will only make things worse.

Here are some of my diversions for joy:

Browse

Hyperallergic.com has a list of museums that have virtual tours of their collections. The Guggenheim, The Rijksmuseum, The National Gallery of Art, The Louvre, The Pergamon Museum, among many others. Totally amazing.

The Moth has hour-long stories that can make you feel like you are human again. A personal favorite is this one sent to me by Kevan Rupp Lunney, about Joy

Want the real scoop on data? One of my all time favorite websites is Information is Beautiful. They have a wonderful series of infographics that will awe and amaze you. Here’s one about the Coronavirus.

Send me your favorite browsing places

Read

Cozy armchair, cup of tea, soft light and a book — the ultimate comfort food. While the beans are brewing on your stove take some time to nourish your soul. Here is a list of some of my recent excursions along with some of my all time favorites.

Mink River by Brian Doyle, The Other Wes Moore by Wes Moore, Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward, Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel­, A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towle, The Overstory by Richard Powers, The Book of Delights by Ross Gay, All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr, A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley, Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Stroutt, Life After Life by Kate Atkinson, The Glory and the Dream by William Manchester, The Lives of a Cell by Lewis Thomas, Silent Spring by Rachel Carson and any Dr. Seuss book you can cuddle up with.

Send me a list of your favorites

Such a lovely thing that nature creates. This little weed of privet gives me a new direction for thread.

Act

If our leaders decide to send you $1000 (per month?), and you can afford it, donate it to refugee organizations, local bartender and restaurant employees who will struggle, homeless shelters who need more safe beds. We need to pull together.

Start a journal.

Nap. When do we ever have enough time to nap?

Plant seeds. Spinach, lettuce, greens, radishes, peas can all go into the ground in many places right now. The seedlings bring a ray of hope at every stage.

Rest, drink fluids, make stew.

Walk. Outside. With no specific goal in mind.

Make art with joyful color and expressive line. Get out the finger paint and make a mess.

This will pass and we will be better for it.

They say

It’s never easy, they say. Struggle comes with rewards, they say. It will all come clear with focus, they say. Put your head down and work harder, they say. Trust your gut, they say.

Get out the rotary cutter, I say.

About two months ago I was between projects and didn’t know which way I was going as a next step. I had this ragged piece of thin cotton that I kept trying to iron flat . For some reason the wrinkles wouldn’t go away. So I decided to stitch them in permanently.

I just kept adding texture and color and pattern with stitch until I had a piece that was about 3 x 4 foot that made no sense at all. It was chaos and wrinkles and pretty little textures. A study in thread on a wrinkled piece of fabric. Ho hum.

Then I dreamed about pink rivers. Don’t know why. Just did.

The textures in the cloth reminded me of topographical maps and gridded land masses. The wrinkles stood in for the rivers. So I got out the rotary cutter and sliced and diced and added pink to the stitched cloth. I layered those squares with organza over a vintage tablecloth full of flowers because I had decided that I wanted beauty in my life that day, not worry. (I’m so tired of bad news.)

The squares looked great on the tablecloth and the organza gave me the opportunity to let the rivers flow underground. But when I stitched it all together it was a mess. The organza didn’t want to be layered, the tablecloth was wobbly and the squares of texture ended up looking like a bad craft project gone wrong. YUK.

The wrinkling, wobbling layers did not match my vision of a unified surface.

Enter the rotary cutter. Because within each disaster is a masterpiece. They say.

I took the squares with me on vacation and added hand-stitched details. And, I really do like the way they look. They are intimate, abstract and multi-layered.

Upon return to the studio I saw the leftover piece of textured wrinkled cloth and decided I would combine it with a quilt I made (and never finished) 15 years ago. The combination of the white textured cloth and the subtly colored quilt was intriguing. Using both as raw materials I cut them, combined them, stitched over them and sewed it all together. One day it seemed great.

But the next day I realized it was all wrong.

Though I really do love all that texture, it was hard to focus on this piece. No center of interest, no pathway for the eyes.

So I got out the rotary cutter again.

Now I have these little “masterpieces” that are traveling across the design board asking for a home. I have some new ideas for them this week, and probably will have more ideas for them next week.

They say if the fabric is ugly, cut it up into small pieces.  If it’s still ugly, you haven’t cut it small enough. I don’t think these fabrics are ugly. But I do know that they haven’t found their permanent home yet.

It’s all about the process, they say.

Inspirations and year end insights

Inspirations all around. The spells generated by books, politics, nature, artists and musicians fuel my journey as I create my art. Here are some of my favorites for your end-of-year browsing pleasure.

Beastie Boy and His Pals will be part of the Stitched Dissent show at Christian Brothers University Beverly + Sam Ross Gallery in Memphis, TN January 10 - February 12

Theo Jansen creates spectacular strandbeasts of wood and plastic that come to life when exposed to the wind. I could watch them for hours. He says that he wants to put these animals out in herds on the beaches so that they can live their own lives. I think about my artwork as it travels into the world, living its own life. Check out his video explanations of how these beasts work. Fascinating.

Leo Ray gives us joy and play and commentary and history and calligraphy and dreamscapes in his Infinite Painting. His canvases are all the same size and each one abuts the previous one to add to the inner dialog he is translating for us. There is a wonderful slide show of the painting you can visit with this link. The work ranges from abstract to cubist to surreal to realistic, freely combining texture, rhythm and color over the surfaces. There are over 100 canvases to date. He calls it a “public-access diary”. And isn’t that what all artists do when creating their work — releasing the inner to the outer?

Ragnar Kjartansson’s, The Visitors, left me spellbound when I saw his nine-screen performance at the Columbus Art Museum in Ohio. The performance combines video, music and poetry in a way that I have never before experienced. I floated through the space with a longing, a sadness, and a joy that stays with me to this day. This video link doesn’t really do justice to the experience in person. If you can imagine walking into a room with nine huge screens each showing one of the musicians and their instruments in separate rooms of a historic mansion you might get an inkling of the experience. The music builds and ebbs. The musicians move in and out of the rooms. I am still humming this evocative tune 2 years later.

As for me? I put together this little movie of the work I have done this year. It was a great year. I finished 14 pieces and I’m in process on three more. I led a 3-month festival (Stitched: Celebrating the ART of Quilting) in Memphis, taught three week-long workshops (Quilting By the Lake, Focus on Fiber and Art Quilt Tahoe), and took a brilliant workshop by Michael Brennand-Wood at the Shakerag Workshops in Sewanee, TN. I had a solo show at the Rockland Art Center in West Nyack, NY and created a proposal for a show devoted to our political realities (Stitched Dissent) that will travel to two different venues in 2020. Just in time for the vote.

Please vote in 2020.

Here’s a little summary slideshow that highlights some of my favorite moments.

Insights?

I know that I am inspired by reading. Reading feeds my inner voice and gives my artwork ballast. I know that I need to find beauty in everything to keep myself grounded. I know that sometimes my mind will not rest until I have worked things out in stitch. I know that the challenges ahead in our government, our environment and our health will affect the way I think and work. I feel like time is condensing and I am breathless and restless with the ticking sound of not enough hours in the day. I know that I need to learn to rest.

Best in stitches to you all. Thank you for taking the time to read thoughts .