See the world as your self. Have faith in the way things are. Love the world as your self; then you can care for all things.

- Verse 13 Tao te Ching; Stephen Mitchell translation

Art Quilts: Emerging Genres

February 4th, 2011

This is the text of a lecture given on February 1, 2011, in conjunction with the Form/Not Function art quilt exhibition at the Carnegie Center for Art in New Albany, Indiana.

One aspect of art history I find fascinating is the connections that exist from one art movement to the next.

Looking briefly at a few major periods in art history helps us to understand the evolution of art quilt genres – and gives us a sense of place and context – perhaps indicating what we need to do to further the growth and expansion of the art quilt movement.

It makes sense to begin an art history slam with the period referred to as Romanticism – from roughly 1800 – 1850. JMW Turner initiated a gradual shift away from classicism with breath-taking paintings, which were as much about light, as about painting.

Eduard Manet’s famous Luncheon on the Grass represents another shift, this time away from Romanticism, inching ever so gradually toward what we now call Modern Art. His painting caused a scandal in the established French Salon world and was a precursor to the age of Impressionism.


Most people are familiar with Impressionism – the movement that made it ok to paint from an intuitive or feeling, rather than from a realistic portrayal of the subject matter. But we don’t always think about how revolutionary these new approaches to painting were. Breaks with traditional art making were controversial, ridiculed, and shunned. But artists kept moving forward into new art territory in a process we can only call evolutionary.

Here’s another interesting fact: almost every artist who was living and working in Europe at that time tried on impressionism for size – at least briefly. In the Museum d’Orsay in Paris there is an entire wall of the same street scene, painted by a who’s who of painters from that period. Some of the paintings, including one by Matisse, are horrible. What do we learn from this? That even good painters made bad paintings, and that everyone has to struggle to settle on an individual style. We know, as far as Matisse is concerned, that he didn’t stick with Impressionism. Instead he cultivated color as a language, and established a niche that was firmly and unmistakably his own.

We could talk about Expressionism, Art Nouveau, The Blue Riders in Munich, and Gustav Klimt’s role in an effort to unite fine and applied arts in Germany. These avant garde movements upped the controversy ante and inspired a subset of lesser known movements, including Futurism, Orphism, Rayonism, Dada and the establishment of the Bauhaus Design School. Why does it matter to us?

Because in every case, artists introducing a new way of defining and quantifying art met resistance from the galleries and artists who were the established powerhouses of the day. Most of the movements I’ve mentioned were actually labeled as degenerate by the Nazis.

In 1900 Pablo Picasso was born. It’s probably fair to say that he single-handedly developed one style or period after another, as only a true visionary can do. Revered during his lifetime, which is not always the case, his work still represented the continual tug of war between the establishment and the challengers to tradition.

We can skip ahead past Cubism, Surrealism and Abstract Expressionism. If you aren’t familiar with these periods of art history, do yourself a favor and surf the web. Each period is a fascinating study of artists seeking the new, the fresh and the original. Artists pushing boundaries.

One artist we can’t ignore is Robert Rauschenberg. A twentieth century visionary, Rauschenberg introduced work he called Combines – pieces that were still primarily canvas, but which featured an assortment of 3-D elements, including the one most familiar to quilters – a canvas with a quilt glued to the surface and partially painted. A picture of this piece is included in Robert Shaw’s wonderful The Art Quilt, suggesting that Rauschenberg’s work has played a role in influencing art quilters who incorporate mixed media elements into their quilts. Sad to say, Rauschenberg’s combine probably sold for more than all art quilts sales combined in 2010.

So what does this have to do with art quilts and emerging genres?

The field is now 40 years old, and genres are emerging. Some are recognizably linked back to traditional quilts. Others are not. What is true is that the same struggle to find a unique voice that characterizes ALL of modern art history is going on now – as art quilts evolve as an art form.

I wanted to know whether or not art quilt forms could be arranged into A CLASSIFICATION SYSTEM of stylistic influences or genres, so I researched the idea. I was able to identify a list of six basic categories into which art quilts fall. These are not all influenced by traditional quilts, but surprisingly, are influenced by the various art movements I have described.

There is overlap, of course, just as in other media where approaches to materials and processes merge and co-mingle. This classification system is still a work in progress. But here is what I have observed to date:

I. Quilts Inspired by Traditional Patterns and Processes
There are three sub-classifications.
1. Pieced Quilts:
Jan Meyers Newberry’s work is an example of a quilt based on a traditional design. (The Nine Patch)


2. Whole Cloth Quilts:
These are quilts where the pattern references a traditional pattern but the method of achieving the pattern is contemporary. Ellen Oppenheimer’s silk screened quilts are an example of this category.


3. Mixed Media Pieces:
Again, the design references a traditional pattern, but the quilt is made from surprising materials. John Lefelhocz’s Match Schticks – made from glued matchsticks – is a great example of this category.

II. Innovative Pieced Quilts Inspired by Traditional Piecing
Nancy Crow’s work is probably the best known work in this category.

She, as well as several other quilt artists, was influenced by the seminal work of Anna Williams.

Within this category there are numerous works that tread a fine line between improvisational piecing and pictorial quilts. In those cases, a piece may fit either category, but I place it in the category by which it is more clearly defined.
Lisa Call’s current work effectively balances improvisational piecing with a story line.

III. Narrative or Pictorial Quilts
Within this category pieces may address controversial or socio-political themes or not. Some works have abstract elements but most of the time one aspect of the piece dominates over the others – it may be abstract, but the figurative or pictorial elements are critical to appreciation of the message.
There are four sub-classifications:
1. Quilts that represent (or are drawn from) a real life image:
These may be impressionistic or EXPRESSIONISTIC in terms of how the materials are used. The quilt may be pieced, appliquéd or created using surface design techniques. Lori Lupe Pelish is a master of this style.

2. The Self Portrait:
An entire lecture could be devoted to this fascinating sub-category. Alison Whittemore’s Funny Looking Kid is a delightful example.

3. Quilts with a strong graphic arts influence:
What I mean by this is several things: text may be used, or images that are graphic in the style of clip art – the shapes are typically flattened. The color palette is often simple, employing pure or bright color combinations.
Bean Gilsdorf’s piece is an example of this style.

4. Visionary Quilts:
This is one of those classifications where you know it when you see it. I was uncomfortable with the term folk art as it implies a simplicity that lacks sophistication. But outsider art isn’t right either – as it implies someone not connected to any part of the art world experience.
Susie Shie’s pieces are thoughtfully conceived and executed but she is definitely not an art quilt world outsider. She is a visionary.

IV. Quilts that Reference Formal Design Concerns
Quilts in this category are often created by artists who have moved to quilt-making from other art backgrounds, or who have art degrees, but this isn’t always the case. It’s quite possible to study design and color theory independently and to use that knowledge to fuel a body of work. I would never insult any of the fine art quilt makers whose work fits this classification even though art school was never in the picture. There are three categories within this genre.
1. Abstract Compositions.
There is overlap here with innovative piecing. Darcy Falk and Sue Benner are great examples of artists who work in this style.

2. Color Field Compositions.
These pieces are characterized by the role color plays in the development of the surface – either because it dominates other considerations or plays a singular role. Emily Richardson continues to produce mesmerizing color field works.

3. Whole cloth pieces created through the use of a series of surface design processes.
These include but are not limited to dyeing, discharging, painting, foiling, silk-screening, and the use of resists. Astrid Hilger Bennett’s work is an example of this style. Whole cloth surface designed pieces may be the fastest growing category of art quilts in the world today.

V. Mixed Media.
A catch-all, right or wrong, of pieces that rely primarily on the addition of components that are non-traditional in use and application. There are two sub-categories in the mixed media genre.
1. Whole Cloth Quilts.
Fran Skiles pioneered this approach to the art quilt.

2. Assembled Quilts.
The term assembled is used here to separate the action of adding elements to a surface from the acts of piecing or appliquĂ©. Pat Kroth’s eye-popping thread pieces are examples of assembled work.

VI. Three Dimensional Quilts.
This category is defined as any piece that exhibits three-dimensionality as a key aspect of the presentation. Susan Else’s humorous sculptures are just one example of this quirky genre.

SO.
My original plan was to draw conclusions and propose goals art quilters could work toward into the future. But although I worked on ideas for this lecture several weeks almost nonstop, when I started to write it I found I had only a few observations to share.

There are some intriguing oddities in the art quilt movement. Among them:

1. Art movements have so infiltrated popular western culture we reference them without evening knowing we are doing it. Case in point, the number of art quilters who are not familiar with any art history because they have never been exposed to it, or haven’t taken an interest in learning about it.

2. This is a field made up predominantly of women, which is contrary to every art movement to date. Form/ Not Function had one male participant. In the recent Surface Design Journal, twenty-four women artists were mentioned in articles. Only four men were included in that issue.

How does this gender reality affect competition? Or pricing?

3. Art quilting is like a huge organized religion, which is also unlike any art movement to date. The Studio Art Quilt Associates is an example of women artists taking matters into their own hands to develop the venues that are desired and needed in order to progress. Without being overt, this is a socio-political statement. Art quilters are no longer waiting to be invited into the mainstream art world. They are creating venues for parallel play while devising efforts to go mainstream. This has so far, been relatively frustrating because the art world is territorial and also traditional in the sense of how the “rules” work. Hark back to every art movement in history, kids.

With such force of numbers why aren’t art quilters taking the mainstream art world by storm? Maybe we don’t care? Or is this one of those shifting societal issues that does effect change, but more slowly than we would like? Forty years is not that long. Evolution is long.

Other questions and observations:

Have we created a textile ghetto by being willing to develop our own venues?
Should we be trying to play by insider rules? Could we alter some visual clues – like how a piece is finished – in order to remove references that don’t serve moving forward?

Would we be willing to re-characterize work as mixed media construction in order to help it go mainstream? Is the resistance semantic?

Because women ARE so nurturing and sharing, do we run the risk of becoming too homogenized? Frankly I think women are very competitive – many times in unhealthy ways. But can we intentionally or consciously marry our nurturing ways to good boundaries?

And what about the charge that art quilters don’t take critical analysis seriously?
There is a palpable tension between the desire to welcome newcomers/beginners non-judgmentally and the reality of the importance of refining standards of excellence, so that collectors will take art quilts seriously.

These are choices that can be made collectively if we orchestrate a dialogue, but they are also choices that must be made individually – which is where we have the only real control. In any event, there is much to discuss and I hope this lecture will get the conversation started.

Because of everything I’ve said, it is interesting to note the classifications… and It is grist for the mill to point out the observations


but the most significant reality is that it still comes down to one artist, in one studio, becoming intimately aware of her own process and preferences; actualizing her own quest for meaning and/or creative growth, and then having the courage to pursue it independent of others. We must do whatever we can to honor that impulse.

Huh?

January 30th, 2011

In 2001, I was still the chair of the Surface Design Studio at the Southwest School of Art and Craft. Complex Cloth was selling well, and I was getting invitations to teach in other locations around the country. I struggled with leaving a program that was near and dear to my heart, but my job had turned more administrative than artful and I finally decided to go solo. It wasn’t an easy transition, but it did feel right.

Almost ten years later, I ran into a former colleague at a dinner party. “Jane,” he said, “I’ve always wanted to tell you how sorry I was that you got fired.” I looked at him in disbelief. Fired? Huh.

I called up a close friend the next day. “Hey,” I said, “Did I get fired from the Craft Center?” She laughed. “Of course you did, Jane!” She paused and continued, “Everybody knew that.”

Huh.

I had the same feeling this week when I read the headline to an article describing my current exhibition and visit to the University of Louisville. The headline in the Louisville Courier-Journal read Repairing Textile’s Tattered Reputation. Huh?

The article was fine. Elizabeth Kramer, the reporter, was fun to talk to, and she definitely got it. Where the headline came from, I don’t know. But seeing that headline certainly made me stop and think. I’ve been thinking about it all week. Is this just another indication that textiles are getting a bad art rap?

The corner of the world I occupy is lively, inventive and challenging. Just as it never occurred to me that I’d been fired (gee, I could have collected unemployment…) it has never occurred to me to think of my textile world as one with a tattered reputation.

On the other hand, I talked with a guest at my lecture the other evening about just this issue – why textiles aren’t more MAINSTREAM – and we agreed that it wasn’t technique or quality or message as much as it was marketing.

What can we do about that?

Discharge! The Emperor’s New Clothes

January 22nd, 2011

Last time I wrote an essay, I offered up the question Why do you make? I was delighted by the heartfelt responses you’all shared with fellow readers. Thank you, thank you to everyone who took time to write.

We didn’t determine anything definitive when it came to addressing the gender issue – which was a subplot in my previous post. It’s too big an issue to settle in a blog essay or two. But I’ve continued to ponder gender bias this week as I finished the text for my lecture. (which I’ll reprint here after I’ve presented it to the public on January 29.)

Serendipitously, a friend sent me a link I have to share with you. The Gagosian Gallery in New York City is currently showing the works of Piotr UklaƄski, in an exhibition titled Discharge! I read the description of the artist’s work, and could feel the color rising – or was it the hairs on the back of my neck? Or maybe my pulse?

Frustration?
Delight that a surface design process has gone mainstream?
Or the usual pissed off reaction I have when the “lowly” techniques I employ to make art are simultaneously appropriated and marginalized?

The review states,
“As with the crayon- shavings paintings, torn-paper collages and ceramic-mosaic tableaux, UklaƄski opts for low-fi, household wares — in this case, commercial bedding and bleach — over conventional, codified art materials with which to make his art.”

And don’t ask me how we could possibly go from the aggravating (as opposed to the ridiculous) to the even more aggravating (as opposed to the sublime) within the framework of one web link, but here goes. On the same page where I read about Uklanski’s Discharge! there was a link to an image of a textile piece entitled: Woman Recreates da Vinci’s ‘Last Supper’ with Lint. Of course this piece isn’t displayed at the Gagosian Gallery; it’s offered up by Ripleys Believe it or Not.

Am I crazy? Is there a disconnect here?

Does anyone else think it’s maddening that these two artists could easily be swapped, if only we had a magic wand handy? I can picture the lint pieces on the wall of a famous gallery, commanding top dollar, if only the artist knew how to work the gallery scene.

I can just as easily imagine the bleach paintings on a wall at Ripley’s – because there are loads of folks out there who would never believe that art can be made with chlorine bleach.

Is it the luck of the draw? Ambition? Asking the right questions and getting the right teachers? Gender bias?

I just hope he neutralized those rather large investments before they went public.

Why do YOU work?

January 12th, 2011

Why do you make? And why do you make what you make?
Have you spent time thinking about these questions?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot – partly because as a working artist you have lots of alone time, and although I adore audio books, I’ve recently chosen solitude over information. I need time to think.

Today what I really want to know is why other people do what they do, but specifically why people/women/men make art quilts or art work with a textile component.

Here’s why. I’m writing a lecture to be given alongside the current art quilt exhibition, Form Not Function, at the Carnegie Center for Art and History in New Albany, Indiana. As preparation, I looked at the quilts in the show. Then I started looking at all kinds of art quilts in all kinds of places. Famous quilts, not so famous quilts. All of the Quilt National shows since 1999. Fascinating. Genres have definitely emerged. More on that later, after I have introduced my classifications in the lecture.

My original plan was to draw conclusions and propose goals art quilters could work toward into the future. But although I’ve worked on my ideas for several weeks almost nonstop, I find I have only observations to share.

There are some intriguing oddities in the art quilt movement.

For instance, it’s a field populated by women. There is only one man in the Form/Not Function show. In the last issue of the Surface Design Association Journal, which featured the art quilt movement, four men were included alongside twenty-four women. Neither SAQA (the Studio Art Quilt Associates) nor SDA knows for sure how many male members are enrolled, but it’s not a very large number.

This is the reverse of almost every art movement to date. Men have dominated painting from Romanticism until Now, with women making inroads, but not definitive or speedy ones. From Mary Cassatt to Georgia O’Keefe to Lee Krasner, women were the exception, not the rule. Feminism influenced this of course, but the movements associated with women who acted partly from a Feminist stance are still subjected to faint disdain as far as mainstream Art is concerned. Maybe the playing field is finally leveling among young, aspiring artists, (I haven’t researched it – anyone have personal experience with this?)

But what’s going on in the art quilt world?

I guess it’s not surprising, since sewing has always been a girl thing. But it just feels odd. On the one hand, quilt making is huge because it gives so many women a context in which to be artistic. But quilt making still isn’t mainstream art – could it be because it is primarily a female arena?

Women are by nature supportive and encouraging. Quilt guilds have flourished in part because they provide connection. Organizations like SAQA have harnessed an incredible female energy, one that continues to rise – generating shows and exposure for the membership.

That’s good. But also problematic. If we get our own little club going here, then maybe we aren’t as inclined to venture out of the comfort zone. Do we care if we never make it into the mainstream art world? Are we happy here in the textile ghetto? Would we rather not compete with each other, or with other media?

It feels itchy to me. It’s too easy to ignore the fact that some of the issues we face might be rooted in gender inequalities that aren’t yet resolved. But maybe we’re at the best party in the world, with lots of women we like, so it doesn’t matter if we’re not invited into major galleries on a regular basis, or that often our work doesn’t sell for the price a comparable painting would command.

Disclaimer: Some art quilt artists DO command comparable prices to paintings and get them. Is it unreasonable to ask whether these numbers are lower than they could be, were quilts to be more widely accepted by the art buying public?

I’ve got some observations about steps that could be taken to move more aggressively toward the mainstream market. But that’s another subject. What I really want to know right now is all about motivation.

Another concern: If art quilters are content existing in the lovely world they’ve created for themselves, will challenges to refine, strive for quality, question design, color, innovation, and/or presentation be embraced? Maybe that’s an individual decision rather than a group one.

So:
Do you work just because you love the work?
Do you aspire to exhibit and sell your work and what does that look like? To friends? Through a gallery? Through exposure at exhibitions?

I welcome your thoughts.

Loving in the New Year

January 3rd, 2011


Last Thursday I shipped 48 pieces to Louisville, where my work will be installed at the Hite Art Institute (University of Louisville) this month. If you live in the vicinity, come and join me on January 26, for the lecture and reception. It’s free.

On Friday morning I woke up thinking about what to do next. I won’t start right away, as I believe a certain closure is usually needed when a body of work or a project is completed. For me, closure doesn’t come until I breathe a sigh of relief seeing the work installed in the gallery space.

But I was already living in the future – imagining how similar images and formats could employ saturated color and the entire color palette. I guess I missed vibrant color while I was working with the achromatic scheme I chose for the recently completed work.

I’m also reading Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention, by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Wow. Highly recommended. And the inspiration for this essay because of how his ideas segue with my own experiences of making.

Lots of artists work because of what they think will happen if they can only be good enough to get some attention. Most people have a scenario playing out in their heads when they imagine where their art might lead. Winning a major prize in a juried show. Getting a book deal. Being approached by a public television producer interested in filming an interview. Our culture sets us up for this. Don’t you want to be in a tabloid at the grocery store so everyone will know your name?

I digress. Csikszentmihalyi suggests that we usually put the cart before the horse. This is true in many domains – not only within the domain of art making. We imagine what we hope to achieve as part of the impetus that inspires us to keep working. The thing is, without building a knowledge base so that we can be really good at whatever we do, and without choosing to do what we do because we find it endlessly fascinating – a practice we must do, as opposed to a practice we find mildly interesting – we easily lose the desire required to keep the practice going.

In Meg Cox’s fine anthology on quilters and quilting making,The Quilter’s Catalog, she quotes one young woman as saying quilting is something she must do – it is as important to her as breathing. That’s the kind of attachment to a practice that will keep it going, no matter how busy life gets and no matter how many other “to dos” come pounding on the door.

It’s not a bad idea to visualize where you want your work to take you. A five year plan is a good thing. It’s important to know how to write an artist’s statement, and to acquire the self-confidence it takes to approach a gallery. But those are learnable skills. Loving something enough to want to do it whenever you can is less tangible. And not negotiable. It’s what wakes you up in the night, thinking into the future about color.

If you are struggling to stay focused or to find time to work, use your new year energy to take stock. What do you love? Haven’t found it yet? Keep looking.

Maybe you’ll find Mary Chapin Carpenter’s lyrics encouraging:

You might still be searching every face
For one you can’t forget
But love is out there in a stranger’s clothes
You just haven’t met him yet.

Loving in the New Year

January 3rd, 2011


Last Thursday I shipped 48 pieces to Louisville, where my work will be installed at the Hite Art Institute (University of Louisville) this month. If you live in the vicinity, come and join me on January 26, for the lecture and reception. It’s free.

On Friday morning I woke up thinking about what to do next. I won’t start right away, as I believe a certain closure is usually needed when a body of work or a project is completed. For me, closure doesn’t come until I breathe a sigh of relief seeing the work installed in the gallery space.

But I was already living in the future – imagining how similar images and formats could employ saturated color and the entire color palette. I guess I missed vibrant color while I was working with the achromatic scheme I chose for the recently completed work.

I’m also reading Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention, by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Wow. Highly recommended. And the inspiration for this essay because of how his ideas segue with my own experiences of making.

Lots of artists work because of what they think will happen if they can only be good enough to get some attention. Most people have a scenario playing out in their heads when they imagine where their art might lead. Winning a major prize in a juried show. Getting a book deal. Being approached by a public television producer interested in filming an interview. Our culture sets us up for this. Don’t you want to be in a tabloid at the grocery store so everyone will know your name?

I digress. Csikszentmihalyi suggests that we usually put the cart before the horse. This is true in many domains – not only within the domain of art making. We imagine what we hope to achieve as part of the impetus that inspires us to keep working. The thing is, without building a knowledge base so that we can be really good at whatever we do, and without choosing to do what we do because we find it endlessly fascinating – a practice we must do, as opposed to a practice we find mildly interesting – we easily lose the desire required to keep the practice going.

In Meg Cox’s fine anthology on quilters and quilting making,The Quilter’s Catalog, she quotes one young woman as saying quilting is something she must do – it is as important to her as breathing. That’s the kind of attachment to a practice that will keep it going, no matter how busy life gets and no matter how many other “to dos” come pounding on the door.

It’s not a bad idea to visualize where you want your work to take you. A five year plan is a good thing. It’s important to know how to write an artist’s statement, and to acquire the self-confidence it takes to approach a gallery. But those are learnable skills. Loving something enough to want to do it whenever you can is less tangible. And not negotiable. It’s what wakes you up in the night, thinking into the future about color.

If you are struggling to stay focused or to find time to work, use your new year energy to take stock. What do you love? Haven’t found it yet? Keep looking.

Maybe you’ll find Mary Chapin Carpenter’s lyrics encouraging:

You might still be searching every face
For one you can’t forget
But love is out there in a stranger’s clothes
You just haven’t met him yet.

More on the Power of Limits

December 17th, 2010

Anyone familiar with traditional quilting knows it originated, at least in part, from the need to use worn out clothing and scrap fabric. Sewing bits together was a functional act of making driven by the goal to produce a bed cover that would keep someone warm on a cold winter night. Who knows when the tedium of hand stitching ignited the veritable inner light bulb – the maker’s realization that the scraps could actually be sewn together to produce a pleasing pattern? A single thought possessed the power to turn an endlessly tedious chore into an exciting task charged with potential.

Welcome to another conversation about the power of limits. This week I’ve been with my sister, logging a week of chemotherapy. Sitting and thinking, or trying not to think, is part of the game. I brought along twelve pieces of a current series, each of which required hand stitching in order to be complete.

I thought I brought all the thread I needed, but in one of those last minute packing flails of omission, I never packed four of the perle cotton colors I intended to bring along. Drat. A small town. Twenty four inches of snow. What to do?

The second morning I walked to a spiffy store called Dig. In addition to the fresh home furnishings, indy craft books, and objects Dig features, there was a rack of sewing thread. Not the richly saturated perle cotton colors I prefer, but a solid selection of cotton sewing threads. I switched mental gears and selected the colors I needed, and then a few more.

As is often the case, the lighter weight thread was a better match to my art work than the perle cotton I’d brought, which was all wrong in terms of scale. Making blows my mind on a regular basis. The thing I think will be the perfect resolution is too big (and overwhelms) too small (and disappears) the wrong color (I didn’t take the colors around it seriously enough) or just plain wrong. (Get out the critique sheet and figure out what went screwy.)

But the thin, sewing thread was just right. And there were enough color choices in the stash I’d purchased to make every combination of background and thread perfect. No settling. This Goldilocks was a happy camper.

Once the immediate design decisions are made, there is plenty of sweet time to think. I thought of an exercise, which is a variation on others I’ve taught in the past:

Pick a color, or a stitch, or a thread. Or a pencil. The first part of this has to be tailored to whatever it is you do and hopefully love.

Painter? Pick painting. Poet. Pick haiku. Stitcher? Pick the Wrapped Back Stitch.

What can you do with what you’ve chosen? How will limiting what you use to one primary action or format actually free you?

This sort of experiment is perfect once a day for a few minutes. You may sit and stare at the color, or the pencil or the needle at first, but try to get past the fear and begin. When your hand is moving your brain can engage. It’s a bit like learning to drive a car with a standard transmission. You can sit and stare at the clutch for an hour, but the car won’t move until you put it in gear and hit the gas.

Practice turning off the Judgment Function in your mind. Tell yourself you are just seeing what will happen. You are curious where this could go. If it really doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, lighten up. Make it a meditation. Draw or stitch straight lines for the whole session. Cut the paper you painted up into strips or squares. Keep your hands moving. Really stuck? Switch to a material you’d never think of taking seriously. Glue black bean designs on 5” squares of cardboard. Really.

Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. Observe the ideas that flow once self-conscious awareness disappears into the activity at hand. Write those ideas down before you forget what they were. Present time thinking is fodder for future projects. Sit in the moment of making and relish the simplicity of working within limitations. Anticipate where it will lead.

And then get up and do some laundry. Or the dishes.

Limitations: Clearing Out Stuff

December 13th, 2010

This is a season focused on giving and receiving. In an effort to continue the discussion on the power of limitations, I invite you to think about what you could give away.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve already got too much stuff. I don’t want any gifts this December. If anything, I want a gift I can give myself – of inventorying my stuff and divesting of as much of it as I can.

Recently I noticed a property for sale in my neighborhood – perfect for a retreat center/teaching studio. Never mind that it’s on the market for way more than I can afford. I had to have a look. The formerly grand 1920’s house stands on a promontory with a view of downtown San Antonio. Situated on over an acre, there is plenty of space for a new studio building – and maybe even a guesthouse. (Let me know if you have some funds to invest!)

While I practiced active imagination envisioning what I could do with the house I noticed something else about the property. It was clear the owner had issues when it came to parting with stuff. Two cars, carrying plates that hadn’t been current since 1999, were parked in the large driveway. The inside of the house confirmed its occupation by a seasoned stuffologist. Every room was stacked with boxes. The spare bedroom had been turned into makeshift closet for hundreds of pieces of clothing – more than any person could wear in one lifetime. I felt sad for the owner, and also slightly claustrophobic.

To break free from that level of acquisitive behavior probably requires help. We all know people who can’t give anything away. I encounter them in workshops all the time. One student I adore had five bags of denim in her studio, just waiting for the right project to present itself. That alone might not have been a problem, but the garage was full of stuff too. And neither you nor I can pass judgment on this. Last April I helped my mother clear out a basement’s worth of stuff, in preparation for a move to a new home. Our time together in the basement produced touching memories and several belly laughs. It’s hard to get rid of things that remind us of the past. The electrically heated melamine baby dish with the shiny moon and stars on it (my youngest sister is in her mid-forties) tugged at both our heartstrings, but it had to go. And what about the dozens of cereal box fronts, carefully trimmed into 9” x 12” pieces? “You never know when you might need a good piece of cardboard,” my mother explained sheepishly. We both laughed. The cereal boxes went into the paper-recycling bag, although I can’t help but wonder whether some of it was vintage, and worth something.

And that’s the hook. We’re easily duped into keeping far more of the stuff we own than we will ever need or use, because we are sentimentally attached, or motivated by a belief that somehow the stuff will bring us money. If we got busy and listed everything on Ebay, or tagged it all and filled up tables in the driveway, it would. But there’s one niggling detail. Actually doing it.

My point is that the more stuff you have, the more stuff you have to take care of. Sooner or later there’s a tipping point. You’re serving the stuff instead of allowing the stuff to serve you.

So give yourself the gift of dumping some stuff this season. Face the facts. Will you ever get a garage sale organized? Will you ever learn how to use Ebay? For that matter, will you ever use those five bags of fabric scraps you’re currently hoarding? Or all of the old copies of Quilting Arts you have stacked in the corner of the bedroom? Do yourself a favor and clear some stuff out. And don’t focus on how much it cost originally, or whether it’s worth money now. Pay it forward, and give everything away. Use freecycle.com or send a note out to fellow artists. I know one group in San Antonio that hosts a clothes swap twice a year.

How about an artists’ swap? Or the good, old-fashioned Salvation Army? It’s been proven that those who give without worrying about getting anything back have actually healed physical maladies. Check out Cami Walker at 29gifts.org. Suffering from multiple sclerosis, she determined to give 29 gifts in twenty-nine days. Amazingly enough, during the course of the giving her symptoms actually abated.

I know when I cleared out my closets and studio in September it was as though a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Is it a coincidence that the pain I had in my back also went away? I don’t know. I do know the coats that went to the homeless shelter are needed this morning. And that all the textile paints I’d accumulated but was never going to use found a good home with a young student living on tips as a waitress. And it makes me smile – and feel considerably lighter on my feet – to imagine what someone must have thought when they encountered the original artwork (old and no longer viably salable) that I donated to Goodwill. I just hope it didn’t go into a bedroom stacked with so much stuff it won’t ever be truly enjoyed.

But that can’t be my concern. All I can do is keep clearing out – creating plenty of healthy psychic space for new ideas and new work. Which is just another version of working within limitations and staying in present time.

Why "Art Cloth?" – A Guest Opinion

December 3rd, 2010

Marie-Therese Wisniowski is an artist, lecturer and writer from Lake Macquarie, New South Wales, Australia. She recently wrote this essay in response to a review published in the Winter Edition of the Surface Design Journal. I felt it was worth printing in order to share her ideas with an audience beyond the SDA membership.

Art Cloth was a term coined by Jane Dunnewold at the dawn of this century. Since then it has been widely used to embrace a myriad of “Art” that utilizes cloth as its medium. Jessica Hemmings in reviewing – ArtCloth: Engaging New Visions (an exhibition in which I was the curator) questioned whether the term Art Cloth was necessary, since she thought that “…textiles provide a rich medium for sophisticated communication of conceptual ideas. But I don’t think that textile needs yet another name” [1]. My answer to her assertions is that as much as I respect Jessica’s opinion, I disagree with her viewpoint on this matter.
The history of art is one of continual change. Art is dynamic and so serious philosophical questions have been raised as to whether or not it can be logically defined, identified or even classified [2]. There are numerous philosophical treaties exploring these ideas [2].

There are three basic ingredients (as opposed to definitions) that all artworks possess. When “engaged” they are non-functional, and aesthetic. “Engaging” is an important ingredient, since an unknown buried work is not art. These three conditions are “necessary” conditions and not the “sufficient and necessary” conditions that all logicians are searching for [2]. Note: I use the word “engaged” in a generic sense and so for example, that if all human species were blind we could perhaps “engage” sculpture artworks, although I doubt if water colour paintings would be in our art lexicon.

Historically what is now considered art – by individuals, cognoscenti, populous at large and by art institutions – has dramatically expanded. Furthermore, once a form of art has been accepted, like a biological cell when taken root in a particular form, it can divide and sub-divide itself into smaller sub-units.

Most areas of art are defined by doing nouns (i.e. nouns that evoke images of action): painting, sculpture, and performance art (just to mention a few). Once an area or cell of art has been loosely defined a number of sub-divisions miraculously occur. For example, let us consider the art making area of painting. It sub-divides on process (e.g. oil paintings, water colour paintings, and fresco etc.), on subject (e.g. landscapes, portraits, and seascapes etc.), on art movements (e.g. Impressionists, Post- Impressionist, and Cubists etc.) Those interested are not confused nor fear such sub- divisions or overlapping labeling. Rather their mere existence indicates a growing conscious interest, articulation and sophisticated appreciation of this form of art.

Let us define what is a textile. Basically it is defined as “any material that is woven” [3]. Clearly canvas is a textile and so technically speaking paintings on canvas, linen, velvet and silk are all textile art. Alan Sisley (Gallery Director, Orange Regional Art Gallery, NSW, Australia) is bemused that textile artists exclude canvas from their definition of their area of artistic engagement. “There is a lot of harmonious colour and thoughtful composition in this show [Engaging New Visions] . . . the same things we would praise were it an exhibition of paintings. When you think about it, canvas is also a fabric, so really what is the difference between printed or painted silk, painted canvas or paper?” [4].

The definition of “cloth” is similarly as broad, namely, “ a fabric formed by weaving, felting etc. from fibre used for garments, upholstery and for many other purposes” [3]. The same arguments could be applied against the use of “Art Cloth” as a generic identifier for artworks on fibre – other than canvas – as those that were used against “Textile Art”. There are nuances that tip me in favour of the use of “ArtCloth” in place of “Textile Art”, “Fibre Art” and “Surface Design” etc. For example, the use of “cloth” to define clothing or garments is now obsolete [3]. However, the use of “textile” or “fibre” always evokes textile or fibre design, so important for the Bauhaus school-of-thought that it was plundered by commercial needs to sell fabrics to a large and discerning market for functional use [5] (in defiance of one of the necessary conditions of artwork – its lack of functionality). Whilst its practitioners have spawned future art movements on canvas (especially in the USA) it lost its way as the poppet head of future art movements on fabrics. “Art Cloth” unlike “Textile Art” or “Fibre Art” therefore evokes the three necessary conditions (see above) that all artworks possess.

The word “Art” in general, may be considered by some (but not me!) as too broad a descriptor to attach to “Cloth” since it evokes a non-doing noun. If I had been there at the beginning of Jane’s thought bubble I would have suggested that she should consider the descriptor “Fine Art Cloth” since “fine art” now evokes – “an art form categorized as one of the fine arts, namely, those arts which seek expression through beautiful or significant modes” [3]. “Art Cloth” naturally assumes this role, even though “Fine Art Cloth” technically nails it!

The medium of cloth engages more of our physical and unconscious senses than most media used in art. In theory you can touch it, smell it and see it. The hue it offers is impossible to recreate on canvas. It is no wonder then that Leslie Rice used black velvet to paint his self-portrait to win the 2007 Australian Moran National Portrait Prize [6]. Cloth is like having available to you a Steinway rather than a harpsichord.

I am not at all fussed that Art Cloth is sub-dividing itself. I have often stated that Art Cloth works are exploring a new continent in art [6]. To take this analogy further – like any continent there will be different flora and fauna, landscapes and climates in different regions of the continent – all happening at the same time. The more mature these explorations become, the more sub-divisions appear.

Like the mature art of painting, Art Cloth can also be sub-divided on process (e.g. shibori, batik, and digital etc.), on subject (e.g. landscapes, post-graffiti, and social comment etc.), and on movement (e.g. post-modernism, abstract expressionism, and De Stijl etc.) [6]. Those interested in Art Cloth will one day identify new art movements in cloth being born, developed, appreciated and then perhaps discarded. These statements are not predictions, but rather are the artistic cycles witnessed with the exploration of any art medium.

We do not want to lose focus on what is important to us – definitions may come and go and undoubtedly, will keep art theorists and publishing houses very busy producing a vast array of tomes [2]. However, what motivates the practitioner is simply to do and to “engage” Art Cloth! Enjoy, and let those less fortunate and gifted than you argue about such nuances.

Biography
Marie-Therese Wisniowski (BFA) is a full-time artist, researcher, author and casual lecturer at the University of Newcastle (Australia). She maintains the Art Quill Studio at Arcadia Vale, NSW, Australia. She has written articles on the Art Cloth movement for scholarly journals as well as for art and craft magazines and e-zines. She gives lectures and workshops on the concept and techniques in Art Cloth. She is the curator of the – Art Cloth: Engaging New Visions – exhibition that toured Australia. She specializes in the area of Art Cloth and limited edition prints. She has created a number of silk screening techniques (e.g. “Matrix Formatting” and “Multiplexing”), which she employs in her works. Her current work explores contemporary issues and she employs dyeing, discharge, stenciling, hand painting, digital imaging and silkscreen printing to explore issues via her large format works. For more information – see http://www.artquill.blogspot.com.

References:
[1] J. Hemmings, Surface Design Journal, Fall 2010, pages 56-57. [2] N. Carrrol, Philosophy of Art, Routledge, London (1999). [3] The Macquarie Dictionary, Third Edition, Macquarie University, NSW (1997). [4] A. Sisley, ‘Audience Cottons onto Exhibition’ Gallery Pages, Central Western Daily, Orange, 15.5.10 [5] Editor M. Kemp, The Oxford History of Western Art, Oxford University Press, Oxford (2000). [6] M-T. Wisniowski, ‘Exploring A New Continent in Art’, Crafts Arts International, Issue 73 (2008) pages 67-72.

Thoughts on Focusing

December 1st, 2010

The question of how to focus comes up in almost every discussion I lead on the creative process. I think when people talk about focusing what they’re really wondering is whether their work would improve – be stronger, better or more satisfying – if it wasn’t going so many directions. The wealth of available materials and processes is seductive! I’ve been writing about the power of limits in my personal work, so it’s not surprising that I get letters from readers who want to know what they should do to bring some focus to their work, too.

Which led me to this evaluation of the various styles Artists employ when they are making. Where do you fit? If you can’t decide, ask a friend. She’ll be able to tell you!

The Six Approaches to Making

Spontaneous: Throw anything at it and see what happens.

Tentative: Tries something out but can’t decide. Lives with it awhile and one of two things happens: Likes it so far; and continues, Or can’t decide; so it collects dust.

The Planner: Regularly diagrams, journals and plans. Thinks about color, makes lists. The planning is more fun than the execution, so no piece ever gets made. But some great journals come out of the process


The Pragmatist: Uses what she has, right or wrong. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, but at least she finishes things and stays within her budget.

The Collector: Constantly shopping and/or acquiring. Sees Big Ideas when she’s in the middle of a purchase, but nothing ever resolves. Loads of stuff in closets and under the bed.

The Worker Bee: Never didn’t finish anything. What starts as a sample must become a vest or a pillow. Everyone is in awe of how she gets it all done. The downfall? She never moves beyond samples into deeper work.

I bet you’ll see a bit of yourself in at least one of these descriptions. I’ve got bits and pieces of each of them in me, depending on my mood.

But no matter where you fall out on the above list, sooner or later, it begins to wear on you. You tire of the collections, or wish you could do differently, or better. Maybe you begin to realize it could feel great to buckle down and make something you’d be really proud of.

Which leads back to focusing.

I think focusing loses its appeal because we make the mistake of believing that if we decide to focus our efforts, we’ll leave something else wonderful behind. That somehow we’re choosing forever.

Not true! Focusing doesn’t mean you can’t do everything you find appealing. It just means that for some pre-determined period of time you are going to choose INTENTIONALLY to work with some limits. Picture the old mother in the shoe, who had so many children she didn’t know what to do. Every mother knows that each child requires at least a few minutes of individual attention every day in order to blossom into a human being with healthy self-esteem.

So this is your approach – and the first assignment (of which the next blog entries will suggest several
)

Don’t be the old woman in the shoe – with so many projects you don’t know what to do.
Think about each project, technique or how-to book that interests you. DO make some notes about what appeals and then do a little mental ranking. What do you want to do MOST right now – in this space of time? Think about concentrating your efforts on one interest – either for a specific period of time, or until you complete a certain number of works employing the technique, OR until you feel you have mastered it.

When you feel really good about the project or process from one of those angles, you’ll feel equally good about moving on to something new. OR perhaps, about sticking with it even longer – because you have discovered how much more there is to explore.

It’s a win – win proposition.