flailing

When I examine my progress these past few weeks I can discern a pattern of behavior. Flailing. Boomeranging. Ricocheting. I am lacking the stick-to-it focus that comes when I am inspired. So I dabble, hoping that something points me in a new direction.

Shall I do something political? emotional?

Maybe an experiment in color and texture? (ultimately I cut this one up into smaller units. It’s what I do when I am not happy with results.)

What could I do with patterned fabrics and stitch?

That’s on the cut up table too. You can never have enough little zippered bags right?

Perhaps I should focus on make believe? Love those ink stains.

Or, add a few more 3D forms to the menagerie?

Flailing, ricocheting, boomeranging is for me a purposeful exploration. I may not be satisfied with the results but I sure do get some extra practice and there is really nothing better than the buzz of the sewing machine while I guide the fabric through it.

Heart, Rock, Star

I taught a stitching class in Atlanta recently. They were creative bunch of Studio Art Quilt Associates stitchers who inspired me with their work. I learn something every time I teach and this class was no exception.When I was talking to Christine about her work she mentioned a critique method her art group uses and I thought I should definitely share it here. It is based on three words: Heart, Rock and Star. They break down this way when you are in a position to react to a piece of art, or writing, or whatever else comes your way.

Heart: How the work makes you feel, how it speaks to your emotions
Rock: What bothers you about the piece, what is off about it?
Star: What is the star of the piece, what makes it a strong work, what sets it apart?

What a great idea! I look forward to trying it out the next time I meet with my critique group.

Thanks Christine!

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.

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