cut and come again

In vegetable gardening the term cut and come again means you harvest the outer mature leaves of lettuce, spinach or greens and let the inner leaves continue growing. I thought about that when I cut up a couple of my quilts this month. Disrupting and Disruptors are two quilts made from cloth I printed with a steamroller a few years back. The design began as a sketch, was transformed to a 4’x8’ woodcut, printed onto fabric with a steamroller and then quilted into three different quilts.

The final quilts looked like this

One of them (the green one below) actually ended up in Quilt National. But the other two travelled a bit and ended up in my storeroom. Because they had similar stitching and similar content I thought it might be interesting to cut them up to create a new piece.

I started with the Disruptors piece by cutting small pieces to create a traditional Storm at Sea pattern . It had light, dark and medium areas that would work for that pattern.

I spent about a week rearranging and cutting pieces up to create variations of this pattern. But I wasn’t getting anywhere, the piece looked boring, bland and bad. I needed more variety and depth as well as a looseness that the Storm at Sea pattern didn’t give me. So I took out the second quilt and cut out some more of the pattern pieces. Adding color to the monochrome composition helped but didn’t inspire me to continue. I piled up the scraps and waited for a miracle to give me a new idea.

I thought that I had just ruined two good quilts.

It’s process not product

When I got into the studio the next day one of the quilts was laying on the table with the holes cut into it. I realized immediately that I liked it better than the patterned work that seemed so labored and boring.

I filled the holes with pieces from the second quilt. The inserted fabric pieces are connected with a ladder stitch by butting the edges together. Then, more stitching merges the background with foreground. Below are some details of that added stitching.

Thus, two became one. I’m still fiddling with more details and I’ll have to stabilize those loose ends but I think this one is about done now. On to the next challenge.

Layered Chaos, 66”x44”

speechless

Navigating the new normal, I am speechless. I can’t seem to get my head into the holiday spirit. It is almost 70 degrees here in Memphis, blustery. That’s just not right. There are hardly any acorns in the yard. The news keeps offering challenging perspectives. Another shooting. More variants. Planes grounded. I could go on. and on. I look for ways to escape the worry by using saturated colors, stitching in mandala form, creating puffy, comforting soft rounded shapes with a hint of rebirth.

At play with stitch

The galleries below offer some distractions in the colors of the season (thank you Kaffe Fasset for the jumping off point). These are 7.5 x 2.5 little collages that give me room to play. I might go looking for some spring colors next. Can you cure melancholia with color?

Many wishes

May your new year be filled with more good news than bad. More potlucks, less politics. More quality, less inequality. More dancing, more laughter, more hugs, more color, more sunshine, more music, more family.

Second thoughts bring primary focus

I’m not known for my color expertise. I look fondly on work that bursts with saturated color and sigh most of the time. Rousseau, Gaugin, Pauly, Hilma af Klint, Butler and Kusama all stun and amaze me. As a designer I tend toward khaki, gray, muted pastels and black and white. As an artist black thread on light cloth just makes sense to me. If you are drawing lines you need to see them right?

Settling back into a daily practice after five weeks away turned out to be harder than I expected. My mind was so filled with inspirations that it was hard to sort through what my next step would be. I decided to just put colored pieces together. Primaries first.

Starting a piece without a specific idea is all about process. The underlying meaning doesn’t exist so I am only cutting, sewing, cutting, sewing and cutting again. I trust that at some point the compositions will tell me more than I think I know. There was a lot of cutting and sewing and cutting and sewing in these pieces. So much so that I thought that I might instead focus on this wonderful pile of scraps instead of the structured pieces that were being created.

As I started to put the scraps together nothing worked. The compositions were uncomfortable and the light yellow patchwork squares were distracting. It just made me feel weary. Though I wanted the piece to have a joyous exuberant burst it started looking like a carnival gone wrong. Blech! The next day I stitched the pieces together into random rectangles and then cut those into seven inch squares.

There is just something about cutting things up that clarifies things for me. New beginnings restart my thought process.

At all times I know that I am willing to throw it all into a bin if it doesn’t work out. It focuses me on the process rather than the product. And, sometimes, the pieces make more sense than the whole.

After reassembling the seven inch squares into a new composition I ended up with a stronger composition and a playground for stitch.

Second Thoughts, 32” x 25.5”, 2021, Paula Kovarik

There is color. There is energy and there is meaning in it (for me). I call it Second Thoughts for the way it made me doubt my direction. Second Thoughts for the way doubt can play havoc with progress. Second Thoughts for that moment in time that allows me to let go and start over.

Detail, Second Thoughts

Detail, Second Thoughts.

Where do your second thoughts lead you?

Returning from a long journey

Right before leaving for this five week journey I was invited to the Visions Art Museum for a solo show. Here I am talking to my audience.

I’ve unpacked, sorted through the gifts we purchased, did the laundry, read the mail, paid the bills, and reopened the studio. After five weeks and over 3,000 miles across six states, home looks foreign.

I taught an amazing class at Arrowmont with five of the most talented experimenters in the Midsouth. Then my husband and I traveled through Tennessee, North and South Carolina, Massachusetts and Maine on two lane highways and in the air. We visited six art museums, several arboretums, an aquarium and three magnificent beaches. We ate seafood.

I keep looking for ways to avoid the studio so I made yogurt, started a slow cooker meal, washed the dishes, made granola and sat stunned in front of the morning news.

I am not myself.

I am not even close to reprocessing what I saw—the colors, the art, the textures, the sounds, the details, the grandeur, the squalor, the light, the dark, the uncanny.

How can I possibly organize my thoughts when I have witnessed so much great beauty, sad destruction and limitless water and sky?

Here’s a sampling of what we saw. A glorious fall. The sound of wind and surf.

I'm a little worried

Being away from the studio can disrupt the momentum I have in my work. Having just returned from teaching in San Diego and about to leave again for the East Coast, its hard to think about big projects. So I have been doing little things in preparation of the upcoming trip—experimenting with texture, stitching a series of mandala shaped studies (see my previous post here), organizing paperwork, scheduling next year and doing some research. It all feels very minimal.

These lovely bubbles animated the coast while I was in San Diego.

These lovely bubbles animated the coast while I was in San Diego.

I’ll be driving around the Eastern seaboard in the next 5 weeks. Breathing in sea air and exploring new spaces. I get to teach again in the mountains of Tennessee for a week. That always brings inspiration and ideas. I have decided to bring a sketchbook this time. I don’t normally work in a sketchbook. I have several laying around with the first few pages filled and then nothing. Maybe I can build that practice during this trip.

I’m still a little worried. Breaking momentum tends to loosen the strings of ideas. I flounder, get inpatient and ping pong around the studio. I like being isolated in my studio for hours. And, I like traveling too. Both contribute to my stream of consciousness. Both bring insight and energy to my work.

bubbles broke - 1.jpeg

I think worry is a baseline in my personality. High expectations, subliminal doubt and a sense that I can’t control everything contribute to it. I’m saying it out loud here so that I don’t dwell too much on it during my absence from the studio. Maybe that will work.

Click on the book cover for a link to Alibris booksellers.

Click on the book cover for a link to Alibris booksellers.

Thank you to all of you who have purchased my book. I’ve had so many people comment that they have enjoyed reading it. It’s a real boost to me to think that I can inspire people to try new ways to stitch. I love teaching these techniques. If you are interested in checking it out you can purchase it online or order it from your local independent bookstore. At Play in the Garden of Stitch provides new ways to think about using stitch in artwork and includes exercises, sewing tips and quilt stories.