Blogsence*

My apologies to any of you who may receive this twice. I was editing on 2 computers and accidentally pressed "Publish" before I was done. Here's to "blogsence"!

I went over to my friend's house Saturday for some studio time--playtime really. As we talked and caught up, she said that she hadn't received any of my posts for a while and thought that perhaps there was something wrong with the delivery system.

"Um, well, no, not exactly. Its just that I haven't been writing them." As I was leaving later that afternoon, my friend pointed out her calendar to me. I thought she might want to show me an amazing picture. What she pointed to was a series of red dots, extending from the end of April and into the beginning of May.

Pictures that she's sold? I wondered. No, it turned out that these were days that she planned to keep free with no obligations. That explains my blogsence* perfectly. I was taking time to catch up with myself around the edges of work and family.

I also threw myself into an exciting online quilting class with Lisa Call: "Cutting and Piecing Without a Ruler,"

I loved it from start to finish. Lisa's critiques were supportive, and gave me great ideas about how I could build upon what I had learned in class.

Although we pieced a number of projects in class, I didn't quilt them, that is, I didn't add batting and backing and stitch the whole sandwich together. In fact, I've rarely stitched a quilt sandwich and am reluctant to do so.

Gathering courage in hand, I put together a kind of sampler piece that I could practice on. I read various instructions, gazed through books with images of completed quilts and began.

After quilting the first few sections, I was convinced that I would never do anything like this again. Eventually, I got a rhythm going and it was fun, and the action of pushing the fabric through the machine, turning it at regular intervals and watching the pattern emerge was soothing.

By the time I finished, I was ready to begin again (this reminds me of when I gave birth to my first child and was so thrilled by meeting him, I was ready to do it all over again...no, I know it's a stretch to compare childbirth to quilting, but it was pretty cool.)

I decided to take detail shots of the piece above and divide it into roughly 4 sections, exploring the possibilities inherent in each one. So that's what I'm doing. My iron is ready: full steam ahead!

*Blogsence: Absence from blogs and blog writing

Staying Open...in the Studio

When I began this piece, I wanted to find a new way to work with triptychs. My love for the magical number 3 and Amish quilts stimulated the idea of a 3 panel piece using a traditional 9 patch block worked out in paper instead of fabric.

I extended the idea of the botanical blocks from previous pieces, but combined them with pieces of children's school work. I combed the streets around my house for fallen pieces of paper and other wrinkled script that caught my eye.

The piece was created block by block, assembled, and then reworked so that the blocks harmonized.

As I stare at it now, several months later, I'm struck by the contrast between the squares containing children's numbers, letters, drawings, and the more adept collage squares.

It reminds me of trying to balance the improvisational demands of practicing art therapy in a busy urban hospital with my more considered collage work in the studio.

I also thought about the concept of "blending" in the Japanese martial art, Aikido. The Japanese character ai, or, harmony, can be thought of as blending energies or forces. The principle of harmony is to avoid conflict by transforming the energy of opposition into a new form of resolution. That's what I'm working towards.

With this in mind, I've made a big decision. I backed out of our city's Open Studio.

Recently, two close family members were diagnosed with serious autoimmune disorders. There have been a lot of doctor's appointments and shifting of priorities, and for now, I need to keep my concerns closer to home.

It's funny; in encircling my wagons, I've actually spent more time in the studio and without the concerns of showing it, I've had more energy to explore new directions in my work.

Initially I was very sad; about the huge changes that illness can bring and the loss of opportunity. But for a long time, I've wanted to learn new techniques, take classes in art and design, without the concurrent pressure to produce for shows. If what they say is true, that when one door closes,  a new window opens, I think I've found that opening.

Opening a Studio

I recently googled the history of Open Studios and discovered that the open studios, called salons, were started by a certain Madame De Scudéry in Paris. It was a place where intellectuals, writers and artists gathered for discussions.

More recent open studios, the article said, focus on the creative act of making and sharing. And while that definition applies to studios where people are making art in a common space, I like it: a place that focuses on making and sharing.

And that's exactly what I'm going to do April 12 and 13th, when along with 23 other artists, I'm going to be part of an open studio tour sponsored by our local Davis, CA gallery, the Artery.

I'm taking on the challenge because for a long time, I've really wanted to share my artwork in an intimate space; it's intimate work and the more impersonal walls of a gallery don't always do it justice. It looks good in a gallery, but in the home, it looks great.

When one of my friends pitched the idea to me, I bit.

I also decided to extend the open studio into my blog and for the next several posts, I'll introduce you to some of the work I'll be sharing in April.

The piece above is part of a series I worked on over the last summer. It's called Mending Wall, after a poem by Robert Frost.

Before I built a wall I'd ask

What I was walling in or out

And to whom I was like to give offense

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That wants it down.

In the series, I explore how I put up walls with people, when I take them down and under what conditions. Walls are needed in life; the trick is to figure out what to do when.

The process of putting the text and image together was not unlike building a wall. I used watercolor paintings of jade plants, which I had cut into squarish "stones" and blocks of text from some papers I'd found at my father's: 50 year old documents from his career as an English professor.

Lest I sound like I'm still in an English lit. class, I have to tell you that when I made the collage, none of this was conscious. I was spurred on by sensation and under the spell of memory.

Pocket Change Unfolds

Several days ago, I found a rather large white box in the mail. It was bulging at the seams and when I opened it, out poured a tantalizing array of envelopes covered with stamps from far away lands. Artist Trading Cards for the 6 Degrees of Creativity Pocket Change swap!

I invited my sister Amelia over to help with the swap; why not spread the fun? An amazing afternoon unfolded as we carefully unpacked the cards and laid them out on the tables, marveling as each envelope revealed new treasure.

Oh my gosh, how we were going to choose which cards went where? Amelia took on wrapping the cards; that meant I was going to do the selection. I decided "intuitive" was the way to go. Once I stopped worrying (and honestly there wasn't much of that), the cards seemed to sort themselves.

During the time that the cards were laid out, there was an air of expectation and exuberance in the studio, but most of all,  all of the love and caring that had gone into this awesome effort.

There was no way I could have anticipated the sheer creative goodness shining forth. Thank you so much to Beth Rommel for gathering  envelopes from every corner of the world and creating parcels for Gretchen and I to sort and swap. (The three of us each sorted about 50 packages!) Thank you also to Gretchen Miller without whom, 6 Degrees of Creativity  and Pocket Change would not exist. And thank you especially to every artist and agent of change who participated--I look forward to hearing your stories.

The Power of Inventory

This past week I've been looking for the origins of my own artwork so I can create a database, in other words, I'm doing an inventory.

The word "inventory" is close to invention, don't you think? One dictionary says that it comes "from the Latin inventus, pp. of invenire "to find" (see invention)."  I've tried to do this "finding" in the past and always abandoned the effort, overwhelmed by what feels like the task of herding cats.

I tried to keep an open mind though, even as I asked myself  "when did I create this picture? And what was I thinking about anyway?" I must have wondered about all this in less than a whisper,  because my husband abruptly asked, "why are you doing this?"

Good question--one that deserves an answer.

As each year collects itself like a growing season, bringing in a harvest, artwork accumulates. The more it piles up, the less I remember about its origins. So, I realized, in an odd way, I was rewriting my own history as an artist.

It was a surprising thought, one that buoyed me up and reminded me of something else my husband had said earlier: "You're sewing yourself into the universe everyday. Otherwise you won't feel a part of it and you'll be out of it, ill at ease and maybe even dis-eased."

A wise person, my husband. I thought he'd nailed it.

Since then, what began as something of a forced march has turned into a wonderful wild scavenger hunt--one requiring the detective skills of a Sherlock Holmes as clues pop up in the oddest places; a misplaced file, photographs hidden in plain sight on i-photo or a picture hanging in the corner of our meti-dia-beading (short for meditation, dining and beading) room.

It may take me another two months to complete this, but at the end, I imagine that I'll have a good list of "what is found"--from Medieval Latin inventorium--and the pictures to prove it.