Thursday, September 21, 2017
Thoreau warned us to beware of enterprises requiring new clothes; I might revise that advice to cover new clothes requiring alterations, since I'm the one in the family who has to make the alterations. While I adore mending, I'm not so hot on alterations. Nevertheless I do them.
Yesterday I got to step up to the plate for Isaac's new Cub Scout uniform, which set his mom back more than $100 (!?!?!?!?!?!?) at the Scout store on Tuesday. Cubs Scout pants have to be the only kids' pants still sold in the United States that come without hems; they're made six inches too long and somebody has to take them up. I wonder how families without sewing grandmas deal with this challenge.
But I rose to the challenge, not only with hemming the pants but also sewing the troop number on the sleeve. I was happy that the other patches, indicating the local Boy Scout Council as well as the American flag, came pre-sewed. After years of mending only for big men, I had forgotten how small little boys' sleeves are and how hard it is to get your sewing machine in on those little numbers without inadvertently catching some other part of the garment in the seam.
I guess the Scouts still value those old traditional survival skills like sewing. I wonder if they will instill them in the boys as well as demanding them of the moms and grandmas!
Monday, September 18, 2017
I've been trying for the last several months to get rid of things that I no longer need, but keep coming across boxes of stuff stowed away in closets and under worktables. Sometimes it's straight to the grab bag pile, but other times I find work in progress, often things that I started in workshops years ago but never finished. And often those things aren't half bad, just not exciting enough to have made me work on them once I came home.
I've thought, seriously, that perhaps my next body of work should be using up all those partially pieced expanses. Because my fine-line piecing is so complicated and labor intensive, there's an awful lot of work invested in those little bits, and I hate to flush it down the drain. Uncut yardage can always be donated for charity quilts, but who wants to inherit a bunch of little modules of varying shapes and sizes that cry for more intricate piecing to match?
Last month I found a box with leftovers from an experiment in piecing with stripes. It happened at the Crow Barn in 2007 or 2008. I was struck by this array of batiks in the fabric store, variations on brown and chartreuse. I was just starting to experiment with striped fabric as the very fine lines separating my small shapes, so the striped fabric was also appealing. I also bought a chartreuse fabric marker so some of the white dots in the brown-and-white fabric could become green.
I sewed up a bunch of samples and was unimpressed. I have never been a fan of brown, and though I love chartreuse, there was too much just-kinda-plain-wishy-washy-green in this bunch of fabric. But I carefully folded and bagged up everything and took it home with me, to languish for a decade.
Halfway through I realized that I needed to make a quilt for my International Threads challenge, on the theme of "integration," and this could be it. So I made the piecing fit the IT size, quilted it up, and sent it back to Europe with Uta Lenk, who was visiting.
Not a masterpiece, but finished. Actually, not half bad -- I like the graphic contrast of the light and dark, and the many different variations on the simple three-color palette. And I love how all that long-ago sewing paid off in the end. There's plenty more unfinished piecing where that came from, and maybe I'll start working with those UFOs. I have enough square footage already sewed to occupy me for the rest of my life.
Sunday, September 17, 2017
In 2013 I had a solo show at the beautiful art gallery at St. Meinrad Archabbey and Seminary, a monastic institution in St. Meinrad IN, an hour or so west of us. It was founded in the 1850s by Benedictine monks sent from Switzerland to the frontier; their presence generated a large and thriving Catholic community that still exists in southern Indiana.
My husband and I drove over to deliver the quilts, and as we went through the closed gallery we saw that the artwork from the previous show was still there, leaning against walls and stacked near the door. It was sculpture by Brother Martin Erspamer, a monk at St. Meinrad with an MFA who paints, designs worship spaces, and makes furniture, ceramics and stained glass.
Ken fell in love with a ceramic Jesus and we bought Him and took Him home with us. It's a ceramic bas relief, about an inch thick and amazingly heavy. After we got it home I went to hang it on the wall and realized to my dismay that there was no hanging apparatus -- no holes so you could slot the piece over nails in the wall, no wire loop embedded in the clay. Hmmmm.
Jesus leaned against the wall in Ken's office for several months until my wonderfully practical son figured out how to put Him securely on the wall. The solution was two wooden railings, long enough to be screwed into the studs, rabbeted to make lips that keep the ceramic slab from coming loose.
I particularly love this piece of art because it was Ken's choice. For 47 years he has been graciously welcoming art of my choice into our home, with only a few pointed comments about how so few of my paintings have any people in them. (Yes, I'm a landscape junkie....) This time he got what he wanted.
Friday, September 15, 2017
I always look forward to Friday's New York Times because it has a whole section on art, with reviews of several current shows. And this morning's paper started out well, with a review of a fiber art show in Boston that wasn't the least bit condescending, didn't refer to anybody's grandma, and talked about "the timeless, haptic allure of fiber art." Bravo!
But farther down the page, by the same reviewer, came a description of a show by Sanford Biggers, an African-American artist who makes paintings, collages, sculptures and videos. One of the pieces that the reviewer described is a large sculpture made from antique quilt fragments.
|Marianne Boesky Gallery|
The reviewer explains that antique quilts "are central to the art of the African diaspora" (true) and "were signposts used on the Underground Railroad" (FALSE!!!!!!!).
I am so sick of hearing this fake news, which has been debunked so many times, such as here by the scholar Henry Louis Gates Jr. Just as disappointing as hearing that these are or aren't like your grandma's quilts.
Thursday, September 14, 2017
What a great week I just had!
First, I took a carload of fabrics to my friend Ann, whose quilt guild likes to make charity quilts. I've given them four carloads in the last several months, and maybe this is even the last of the bunch. I've saved out the Kona solids, and all the commercial striped fabrics, and the batiks, and the African fabrics, and some other stuff to precious to give away, but now I think all the other quilting fabric is gone.
Tuesday, September 12, 2017
A couple of months ago I got the idea to buy wood painting panels as supports for collage. I thought they would give substance to the work, and avoid the necessity and expense of framing. So I bought a five-pack of 9 by 12 panels and set to work.
I decided to work on all of them at once, and that all of them would have the same general elements. At a workshop last year I made several pages worth of calligraphy, just writing in black india ink, sometimes overlaying the first page of writing with more writing in a different scale and a different direction. I used those pages as the bottom layer.
Each collage would include a map, most would include an old photo, and I found four old books that I would tear up as collage elements for each of the pieces. Then I added bits and pieces of this and that until the collages seemed finished.
The advantage of working on several pieces at once was that it gave me time for the various paints, inks, glues and mediums to dry; by the time I had worked on all five panels the first one was ready for another step. I used plenty of matte medium as the top coat, or I should really say top coats, because I kept slathering that stuff on until some of the the surface resembled encaustic. Toward the end I added some mystery junk for 3-D interest.
The five panels that I started with eventually grew to about ten, and I kept working on them bit by bit through the summer, not sure whether they were done yet. The first one to be declared finished was a birthday gift, on a smaller but deeper panel that allowed me to add stuff on the sides and a roof on the top.
This week I declared two more finished so I could put them in the sales room at Pyro Gallery.
Messages: Eschenbach (detail below)
Messages: Allouez (detail below)
Good thing, too, because there are at least a half dozen more of these in the studio waiting for something before they too can be finished.