Monthly Archives: November 2012

Making Paper Patterns

I’ve just finished roughing out paper patterns for 18 new wall mounted works for my March show at Foster/White. It’s hard to show what I’m doing in this phase because it’s just white on white. It’s a little crazy-making working on these day after day but I am definitely feeling a sense of satisfaction in seeing them pile up around the studio.

Mia, my intern, has started prepping the wood panels for them to be mounted on. She sealed them yesterday and will start painting the edges tomorrow.

For this series I’m working more directly from photographs than I have before. The following are the patterns for Madrone 17 and 18 and the photos that inspired them.

Madrone 17

Madrone 18

I’m approaching the work in a different order, too. Usually I pick a color palette and do a bunch of dyeing before I design the patterns. Then, once I have the patterns done, I play mix and match with the fabrics. This time I made the patterns first. It should streamline the process and save me some time.

The problem is I’m kind of sick of white on white and little bits of paper. I haven’t decided whether to keep at it and refine the patterns while I’m in the groove or to take a week off from patterns and play with color.

It may depend on the weather. If we go into another rainy spell I may just need to get out the dyes to get some color therapy.

A Visit to Jan Hopkin’s Studio

Last Saturday I visited Jan Hopkin’s studio in Mukilteo with Marci Rae McDade and three of her students. Marci is the editor of the Surface Design Journal (and a pal) and was up here for the celebration on Friday night of High Fiber Diet at Bellevue Arts Museum. We all had a regular slumber party here after the event and then went on an art viewing trip on Saturday.

Jan gave a talk a few years ago at the Contemporary Quilt Art Association about her work and her methods. She’s amazing! Her methods and materials present modern takes on the traditional skills of basket making. She uses them to address contemporary themes, specifically those facing women. Fantastic stuff!

I was excited to see where she works and also her store of materials and I was not disappointed. She started by showing us around her house and her collection of ethnographic art. Her husband is also a painter and the house is filled with art and with reminders of their ancestors.

Sometimes I get stressed and disgruntled about how labor intensive my pieces are but a visit to Jan gave me some perspective. Each of her pieces take her about six months to make. The hours she put in are astonishing.

Here are some pictures (not very good, I’m afraid) of her studio and storage area.

a terrible picture of Jan in her store room (bad lighting)

 

lotus tops with cedar bark looping

grapefruit peels, one of Jan's non-traditional materials

 

Thrashing About

I’m working on a new series for my solo show in March at Foster/White Gallery. The work is inspired by Madrone trees and is actually going well. It’s just that I’m both developing patterns and writing an artist statement (due tomorrow). Hence the aforementioned thrashing.

After a couple of days of writing I think I’m getting close to my statement. It seems that I have to spiral in to it. I start with some research and then begin writing.

My first draft reads like a middle school science report. So I write some more and then I edit,

and edit,

and edit,

and then edit some more until I finally get to the kernel of what I’m trying to say. My hubbie, who is an excellent writer, copy edits it for verb tenses, etc and then it’s done!

Having done this many times before there just don’t seem to be any short cut in this process for me.

Above is a pretty picture of the Smoke Bush leaves from my garden and below are some sketches of the new work. They are a little hard to see in these photos but they are full size drawings of designs for three-dimensional works that will be on panels.

I’m going back to thrashing about.

An Ending

Today I took down the remains of The Orchard Room with help from my husband and daughter. It took the three of us 45 minutes to take down what had taken six people 8 hours to put up. But that’s the way it always goes with these things.

Endings are a time for reflection. The time is fitting, coming as the leaves are falling and compacting into a wet mulch around the bases of the orchard trees.

On my first visit to the orchard the trees were in bloom and white petals floated down to the damp grass. When we installed the grass was covered with drifts of tiny daisies and little hard fruits were beginning to grow. The fruits swelled with the seasons as the ribbons faded in the strong Summer sun. During the harvest season we talked of art and sang songs of love. In October we lit our lamps, shared hot cider and wended our way out of the orchard together, carrying our lights with us.

Vida with the last ribbon

This installation gave me a sense of rootedness in the seasons, with this specific patch of land between four trees, and with my family and community. My intention was to create a place for people to meet and share experiences. By defining a room with trees as walls and the sky as a roof, we placed ourselves in nature and in time.

There were some disappointments along the way, there always are, but it was deep for me. My hope is that it had meaning for others as well. It definitely created a time and place in memory for my family. My girls are growing up. They will be finding their own lives and paths away from us soon. They already are.

Today we saw the salmon fighting their way up the stream in their last effort to lay eggs for the next generation. They struggle so hard, battered by their journey, on their way to their deaths. People cheer as a big male makes it over an obstacle, commiserate as he slips down again to rest, and then to try again.

Rest and regeneration. Life and death. Flowers to fruit to fallen leaves. In the ending is the beginning. As we headed back to our car I found myself thinking about next year. Would I apply again to make art at Carkeek Park? Perhaps.

But first, the quiet of the Winter must come to the orchard, where the trees will sleep, dreaming of the sun’s return.

Fall Color In and Out of the Studio

The Fall color has been lovely this year. The rain intensifies the color. The brilliant yellows contrast against the dark wet bark of the trees.

This shrub in my neighbor’s yard took my breath away. Even though I was running late I had to pull my camera out of my bag and document the rich oranges, yellows, reds, purples and greens of the leaves.

Those same colors have been warming up my studio on these rainy afternoons. And I can pull them out again in drab February and reminisce about Fall color.