Progress shots

People ask me all the time if I have a plan in place for the work I do.

I don’t. Not anymore.

There are enough raw materials in my studio to inspire me to experiment rather than plan . I have come to understand that my process is more important than the final product. So I play instead of work. I daydream instead of analyze. I start instead of stall.

This piece, Beware the Jabberwock, revealed itself after much experimentation.

Discarded scraps were a starting point for this figure. It didn’t really turn into a being until I saw that eye.

I had some great green and orange patchwork that didn’t work out in its original composition so I cut it up and added a background to the figure. I did notice that he was centered within the green and black portions of the layout and decided I had to change that so that he was more off center. I also didn’t like the way that vertical like when through the top of his head.

The nice thing about using cut up scraps is you can reposition them by just cutting out a hole and filling it with a different piece. Since I was hoarding the green and orange bits I decided to add a third element with the bright white and multicolored bits from a different quilt. Adding more green and orange moved the figure slightly off kilter.

I really started to like this piece so I decided to make it larger by adding yet another grouping of scraps to the bottom edge and the top corner. Then I noticed for the first time that there are two figures, the little tan guy in the center and the monster eating his head in black. Balance problem solved.

Almost done. Just some extra details here and there. The jabberwocky has horns, there is a bit of chaos, the edges are raw. They suit my mood.
Beware the Jabberwock. 40” x 49”, Paula Kovarik

Beasts

Some movies, like art, stick in your mind and haunt you for years after you have viewed them. Back in 2012 I watched Beasts of the Southern Wild, a brilliant allegory about love, danger, courage and chaos. The raw story covers themes of climate change, health care, coming of age rituals, family loyalty and dysfunctional government. It touched my heart and lingers there still. In it the Beasts were represented by an ancient species called Aurochs. These are the creatures that the cave painters illustrated. According to their DNA, they are a precursor to our modern cattle.

Playing with three dimensional forms I found a way to change a square into a 4-legged beast.

Here one day, gone the next.

While the aurochs were a robust species they went extinct around 1600 because of over hunting and loss of habitat. It’s a sad but all too common story on earth. 

Cattle are followers.

In our modern day, one may ask: should we act as cattle? Can we decide for ourselves what is right or wrong? Should we succumb to the barrage of media and managed images aimed at twisting our minds to follow or forget? As another failing species, do we not know that war is wrong, lies do wound, and a society built only on individual freedom is bound to hurt us all? When do we change from an I, ME, MINE society to the WE that will heal the rifts?

These guys are not so much an invasion as a reminder that if we go brainless into the future our future will be fraught.

My beasts are cuddly.

Creating headless beasts from previously made quilts is a way I can process the chaos and dangers I see and hear all around me. They are huggable in their innocence. They are each defined by their raw materials. They make me laugh and I imagine them herding together for safety. 

I hope they regain their heads. 

Balance and trajectory

I listened to a podcast about speed yesterday (Radiolab). Not the kind we used to take in college to cram for exams, the kind that makes you move from one place to another. They talked about the speed of light, the speed of sound and how this era counts in microseconds and databits.

I experienced the opposite of speed on my travels back from Oregon and the wonderful Design Outside the Lines retreat I taught with Diane Ericson. (f you ever have a chance to study with Diane I highly recommend it. Her approach to garment design changes the axis of the earth.) The folks at the retreat were all hard-working, curious and talented artists. What a joy to work with them!

It took 3 days and 3 cancelled flights to get home. I stood in a lot of lines. I spent time on my phone waiting for help from American Airlines customer service (over two hours!). I had a lot of time to just think and observe. The sound of luggage carts traveling over tiled floors was my soundtrack. It was a test of endurance and one in which I challenged myself to see the humor in it all.

This image really does exist in the Dallas airport. It stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t imagine why they wanted to show this woman with a lizard on her three breasts.

I saw this unique flower while waiting on hold with the customer service agents. It waved at me.

This little sunscape is actually the leftovers of a STAND 6Ft. APART sticker in the airport security area.

Just when we all thought that the worst was over all the phones in the Dallas airport started buzzing with weather warnings. The PA system told us to move away from the windows and shelter in the bathrooms. We were in the bathrooms for about 30 minutes (luckily I didn’t have to go as it would have been a bit embarrassing. I counted over 50 people in the bathroom I was in. Luckily no damage but the thought that the storm was traveling in the same direction as we were going gave us some pause.

I found a new artist to study—Phillip Curtis. This is his Travelers painting in the Phoenix Art Museum. They look like they are having a lot more fun than I was.

Listening to this podcast brought me around to the present and what I was going to do with it. I am energized, motivated and moved by the details of life — those little uncanny moments of wacko. It is spring in Memphis and my headless team greeted me at the door.

I think I will make more of these until they start making sense to me. You have to have a sense of humor right?

I love a parade

Wrestling with rectangles to create 3D forms just seems like the right thing to do right now. Slicing, folding, forming, stitching, stuffing and exploring dimensional work is a substitute for the quiet contemplation that is required for stitching at the machine. I have to find ways to inject humor and distraction into my news cycle. My body is not my body right now. It aches with worry for the future. I have nervous energy. Itchiness at the edge of consciousness. Sorrow for Ukraine, Syria, Afghanistan, Ethiopia. I feel like we are marching into mountains of disaster. I am building a parade—headless beings marching.

These headless creatures have taken over my studio.

I imagine these creatures as travelers. They could be immigrants, exiles, or blind and willful followers. They have piled their belongings onto their backs to move into a future undefined. They carry their wounds, their heritage and history. They leave family behind and seek family ahead.

They toil and fail and get up again.

Each day they join the parade of the absurd.

I might need more space soon.

Art that travels

I teach next week with the Design Outside the Lines workshop led by Diane Ericson. It’ll be new geography for me. They say that Ashland is a magical town. A week away with creative stitchers always inspires me. It might be best all around for me to let these creatures be for a bit.

My piece, In the Weeds, is showing at the Eastern Tennessee State University Slocum Galleries in a show called Positive/Negative 37. So proud to be part of that innovative show. If you are near their campus drop in to see some great work.

I am preparing a show of my work at the National Quilt Museum in Paducah, Kentucky that debuts in May. The museum has offered me a corner gallery. Working with their curator, I have chosen a selection of my work that represents some of the many directions I have traveled as a stitcher.

I am honored to have been chosen for a residency at the Virginia Center for Creative Arts in June. Working for 22 days in isolation among other artists including writers, painters and photographers will be a new challenge for me. It is on the top of my mind these days. What to bring? All the toys or a slim selection? More on that later. What would you bring to a residency?

I'm breaking out of the rectangle

Cutting up quilts has become a hot topic out in the quilt universe. Many fashion houses and Etsy shops and clothing designers have recognized the incredible raw materials of hand crafted textiles and are beginning to offer items using those scavenged quilts as raw materials for their products. Everything from placemats to red-carpet robes are multiplying and monetizing something that should really be honored, cherished and preserved. Mary Fons made a great presentation regarding this issue on You Tube that has since been taken down. But you can find discussions about it elsewhere on the web.

I remember seeing an ad with the Kardashians in underwear sitting on quilts. I admit I was affronted by it. The juxtaposition of a vintage quilt and white tidy-whiteys on social media personalities was somehow reprehensible to me. It felt like appropriation of something I held dear. I do understand why the art director thought it might be clever though. Quilts have gravitas, memory, comfort and soul.

Melee is breaking out of the rectangle that normally holds my work. This piece includes pieces of cut up quilts that have diverse textures, colors and stitching. It has since been morphed into a pod seen below.

Some have asked me what I think and how my practice of using cut up quilts fits into the discussion. Yes, I do cut up quilts. They are quilts that I have made or have acquired through friends. They represent work that I did in the past and no longer seems relevant in my here and now. The act of cutting them up is deliberate, catalytic and scary. I know when I get out the rotary cutter that I could ruin something that I once cherished.

At first I was using cast off trimmings in the new collages. Then I looked around at some of the pieces that I had created earlier in my career and realized that storing them rolled up in the back room was getting me and them nowhere. Many of them had excellent texture, color or story in them that could live on in a new piece.

Here’s my base understanding as an artist: It’s process, not product. If I think of a piece as something that could have monetary value or brand recognition it loses it’s soul. I will cut up my work to use it again. I will not cut up someone else’s quilt without permission. I won’t cut up vintage quilts found in estate sales. Those have soul. Those have history. They are still warm, comfortable and represent someone’s careful work.

For now, I am cutting up quilts to create 3D forms. I connect the pieces, cut in darts, resew and add curves, then stitch again.

It’s process, not product.