the uncanny

A while back I was driving down a long highway listening to a podcast about the iconography of halos in history and art. The halo, a perfect circle, often glowing, is situated above a person’s head. It’s a signifier of holiness, otherness and mystery. But then, as my mind wandered over the ideas of perfect circles and mystery, a car drove by towing another car that had the words broken halos printed on the back.

That’s what I mean by the uncanny. There are messages buzzing through this universe that, if I pay attention, if I concentrate on the now, if I notice what is odd or exotic, I may get a glimpse into the magic of being in this universe.

Gestation, Paula Kovarik, 2023

Have you seen those photographs of the universe lately?

I’ve been thinking about species and the vast number of them that are disappearing. I’ve been thinking about politicians and how they are lured into power vortexes where progress and empathy for the other is thwarted. I’ve been thinking about our species and how we seem to be pre-disposed to war. I’ve been thinking that life is short—too short to answer any of my questions with reliability.

I’ve been thinking. What if we are just another Petri dish in the grand experiment of the universe? Which vectors will finally bring us to nothingness? What will be left? Will new species emerge?

Sniffer skin, Paula Kovarik

Sometimes I just have to shut it all down. The questions are too big. They bring anxiety, anger and worry. Stitching helps. If I consciously tap into the motion and method of stitch I come closest to BEING HERE NOW. I think that all artists, writers and musicians seek that motion. Maybe the politicians, judges, generals and bosses would benefit from a little stitching. A little ripping out. They could get their own perfect circle hovering above their heads.

A new species

A litter of sniffers, Paula Kovarik

I created a new species this week. Using the stitched canvas shown above, these little guys emerged from the ooze. I’m naming them Sniffers. I have a litter of eight. The little slideshow below introduces each one of them.

Sniffers, a slideshow of fiber art by Paula Kovarik

If I place them just so, they create a perfect circle. Sniffing the air for answers. Big questions or small, my focus is on noticing. Change. Mystery. Differences. Words. Species. Developments.

The Uncanny.

fraud, fallout and fervor

I spent last week full of imposter-syndrome doubt. Looking around the studio I saw past efforts, early experiments and final failures. The cacophony of the surroundings not only confused me it also impeded my thought process. I kept staring blindly at the design board and finding ways to avoid anything at all having to do with making art. I walked out and sought solace in distractions. Database cleanup? yup. Instagram surfing? too much. Fabric folding and organizing? Ad nauseam. Asking questions like “what’s the point?” oh yes.

Fallout

I am a determined artist. I believe that process will bring insight and stalling is part of it. Though those gaps in activity engender a feeling of inadequacy I must try, discard, try, discard, try, discard. I have to be relentless. When I could find an opening in the doubt cloud I worked on this piece called Surge. It’s about deterioration as well as growth. Inspired by rotting wood, colonies of organisms and pathways of growth, it gave me a map to follow in my panic. Yes, it is a kind of panic for me. A feeling that I can’t come up with something original, something that transcends the obvious.

Surge, Paula Kovarik, 2022

Fervor

Nature has it right every time. As an example I have this magical driveway. Every time it rains the cracks in the surface are revealed. They fascinate me. The organic shapes and fissures tell stories. It’s like the earth below is trying to burst out. They beckon me with the mystery of that transformation.

I have begun the process of interpreting these magical messages—it’s a start for a new map. I don’t know where it will take me but I feel the fervor again. Reminding myself that it is process not product that is important.

I will start again.

each one teach one

I love teaching. Especially teaching people who are ready to experiment. I learn something from each person in the class. I love to see the variations that people come up with. We have so much fun comparing notes, trying new things and letting ourselves travel unknown pathways. My Miami class had some really skilled and creative folks in it. They were a joy to watch.

The At Play in the Garden of Stitch workshop presented by Partners for Art + Design in Miami

The Miami workshop organized by Abbey Chase of Partners for Art + Design was in an exquisite historic church. The light was fantastic, the stitchers enthusiastic.

Here are some of the things I learned from my students.

When filling a square with stitch, play with different patterns that repeat. Let your imagination go wild.

Let your stress be released. Nancy called this her divorce.

If your tension isn’t working right, go with it. We all loved this bearded back.

Consider fringe. Use fabric that already has texture.

If your pig needs wings, find some and add them to your composition.

Celebrate color and pattern. Let your edges be active.

Your work does not need to fit into a rectangle. It doesn’t even have to be a rectangle.

You can tell a story in four squares.

A beach can become a vase. (Turn this one 90 degrees clockwise and you can see what I mean.)

I am thankful for all the time I spend with my students. Each session brings delight and discovery.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. May your turkey be moist and your potatoes buttery.

A little respite

This year has been a whirlwind. I traveled more. Taught more. Made more art. Had more questions and found few answers. I am in a state of transition I think. So much of making this art is about questioning why and for whom and for what?

I spent the past couple of days creating a catalog of the HERD show in Clarksville, Tennessee. It was a good exercise. One that summarizes the statement I was making. The show was a lot of work. As I explored the medium and the 3D forms they took on a life of their own. Even headless they spoke to me. The folks at Austin Peay State University made it even better by supporting my vision. I especially loved talking to the students at the university. Many saw fiber art for the first time. I felt good about the result and didn’t really question why I made this art until it all came back to me and invaded the studio. Making it was a natural result of being in process. Thoughtful explorations resulted in work that was bigger than I thought it would be. And now it goes in storage.

The work ahead is to find other venues to which I might send this menagerie of thought and process. That’s the busy work of being a non-represented artist. There are few opportunities to take over a gallery with stuffed headless creatures.

And that’s why I am asking why and for whom and for what.

Click on the image to see the entire catalog in pdf format.

Share your thoughts:

Herd

Two years of work, all in one place. The Herd has invaded the Austin Peay State University New Gallery.

Headless Herd members march into the exhibit on a platform. They are built of quilts made over the past ten years. Photo: Amir Aghareb

My art has an undercurrent of peculiarities and humor. I look for things that are uncanny—those elements in life that don’t quite make sense. They’re on the edge. Darkness seeps in with the cares of the day and moods of the moment. Scratchy, murky textures appear. Grids dissolve. Patterns stop repeating. There is often a dissolution in the narrative.

Moving from two-dimensional surfaces to three-dimensional forms, I built a herd this year. The members have no heads. They are diverse and a little disturbing. Where are they going? What has the herd heard to draw them here? Let loose upon my studio floor and tables, they wandered aimlessly. They could be me and you. They could be them. They stay together, they move as one, letting someone else or something else dictate their actions.

The Herd marches on its platform to watch the I watch too much tv news show.

At the gallery the Herd is flanked by Yesmen. They nod yes when you pull their strings. Area Environments provided some of the designs I created in the form of wallpaper. The piece hanging in front of the wall on the left (Many Moons) is the original that created the wallpaper behind it. Amazing to see my stitching in giant form.

Herd of stuffed headless beasts

photo: Amir Aghareb

One of the Yesmen floats in space with a chuckle on its face. photo: Amir Aghareb

The Dark Matter wallpaper, provided by Area Environments, frames these three pieces: Silos, The Usual Suspects and Thugs. I like how they merge with the patterned paper.

photo: Amir Aghareb

I love watching people get close to my work, zooming in on the detail of the work. Dark Heart, detail. photo: Amir Aghareb

Silos, detail

Michael Dickins at the sewing machine.

As part of the exhibit I had the opportunity to talk with community members about my work during an artist talk. There were a number of people with excellent questions, some of which I really had to think about before speaking. It’s great talking with people who are engaged and curious. The next day I entertained a large group of students during a gallery talk. What could be better? That evening the gallery was open to the public again. I set up a sewing machine so people could try drawing with stitch.

The folks at Austin Peay have been welcoming and supportive. Michael Dickins, the gallery director, created an environment for the work that enhanced the message and invited people to spend time thinking about the work. Dr. Dixie Webb wrote an essay about my work and the show that places me in the slipstream of other artists and art movements. Tobias Layman built benches and the platform to accommodate the works. The addition of the wallpaper from Area Environments topped it all off. As an artist I feel honored to have been invited to have this show. The bonus of meeting and working with these folks has been better than I could have imagined.

The show is up until September 16 in Clarksville, TN—a short hop from Nashville. A little bit of a drive from elsewhere. There is a virtual version of the show on their website.

My heartfelt thanks go to Austin Peay State University department of Art+Design, Center of Excellence for the Creative Arts (CECA), The Association of Academic Museums & Galleries (AAMG) and Area Environments for this opportunity.