Pile of wood awaiting removal |
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Lichen covered branch - can you spot the three different types? |
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Do you see a knot - or an eye? |
I took this photo because of the lines in this broken tree stump - and didn't notice until afterwards the photobombing bee! |
I create dynamic fibre art from repurposed materials, and am fascinated about how creativity helps our own personal journeys. My fibre art is inspired by the "wow" of nature's lines around us. I make my art by sewing layers of fabrics together, then slash, deconstruct and heat distress revealing the layers below, and a bit of myself in each piece. Lastly, shaping, stitching and embellishments highlight the beauty within. I am trained in the expressive arts therapies and event management.
Pile of wood awaiting removal |
![]() |
Lichen covered branch - can you spot the three different types? |
![]() |
Do you see a knot - or an eye? |
I took this photo because of the lines in this broken tree stump - and didn't notice until afterwards the photobombing bee! |
Fibre 15, a local fibre arts group I am part of, is preparing for an upcoming gallery show - we've called it Conversations, and described as:
What is a conversation?
Employing a diversity of fibre media, Fibre15 members explore this theme, challenging assumptions about how and what we exchange.
There are 10 of us in this group show being held June 4-26, 2022, with the vernissage on Friday, June 3rd from 6-8 pm, at the Stone School Gallery run by Art Pontiac, at 28 Rue Mill, Portage-du-Fort, Quebec. The gallery is open Thursdays through Sundays from 11 am to 4 pm.
The support from the gallery has been superb as we get ready for this show. Even though I have an events management background, I'm always surprised just how much work and detail shows such as this can take:
Of course, someone really needs to be the lead on this whole effort, to ensure no tasks are overlooked, communicating with the gallery, getting answers to questions.
All this while we still had to find time to make our art. That, after all, is what the show is about - our art and the theme.
I have six works ready (4 are pictured below), but am not yet sure which of the six will actually be in the show. A curating team has been assembled who will make the final decisions around space, cohesiveness etc.
And three of us also applied to teach during this show - I will be teaching collage & embroidery on paper. Here is the same piece - there is more information on the Art Pontiac website at https://artpontiac.com/en/category/course-2022/
Hope to see you at the show!
Growing up, I wanted to be an architect or interior designer. I signed up for architectural drafting classes in high school, and while I enjoyed the detailed layouts, I didn't love the precision required. But I was fascinated with all types of houses, especially older ones, the floorplans and the architectural ornamentation.
Trips to Europe and Asia introduced me to even more styles of buildings, from the narrow homes on Amsterdam's canals, to the temples of India and Thailand, to the renaissance elements of buildings in Belgrade, Serbia. My hundreds of photos have given me lots of references for future art pieces.
And while I didn't end up in a career related to architecture, I did land in one requiring very detailed work. My interest in buildings has continued, however, through my art, first painting, then in coloured pencil, then in 2016 designing a three dimensional village from repurposed items: cardboard, fabrics, used teabags, ceiling tile, an old table cloth, bobby pins and more. This village, titled Urban Refurbishment was part of the Colour Unboxed show of the Out of the Box Fibre Artists that same year at the Mississippi Valley Textile Museum.
While taking a psychodrama class in an expressive arts facilitation program, our prof suggested I further explore my fascination with houses. My thought at the time was that she was suggesting I explore the idea of "home", not "house", but I knew that was not the issue.
I was curious, however, about where this interest came from. Both my parents were creative, as are many of my relatives: we have several writers in the family - journalists, an author, even a poet - all on my father's side. And knitters, sewers, tatters, painters and other creative talents on my mother's side. All this leads me to believe our interests can be genetic (we do have a geneticist in the family although I have not reached out to him with this question). Certainly my creative side comes naturally to me. But I was unaware of anyone else with the same enthusiasm for architecture or old buildings. Until now.
Fast forward to the present, and I may have the answer. My sister sent a link to an obituary about our great-great-grandmother. Said article also included information on her many brothers and sisters: it seems my great-great-great uncle on my father's side was an architect, and my great-great grandfather, also on my father's side, was both an architect and builder. From there we learned about a few of the buildings each had worked on, and just a two-hour drive away from where I live today.
Whatever the answer, what matters is this has given me a connection to my ancestral past, and I plan to continue pursuing this interest and see where it leads. Do you or someone else in your family have an interest that may have been passed down? Perhaps one that no one else seems to share? Ancestral memory may just be at play...
Related:
Linking to our Past - through Photos
What if you try creating your art with a 4-value scale, instead of the typical 10-value scale.
Painting - or otherwise fashioning - a 10-value scale has been an exercise in many art classes I've taken. It can be intimidating, and didn't feel valuable to me. Oh, I understood the importance of learning about values, yet I was never really sure I ever applied the learnings afterwards, intimidated as I was by such a range of values on the scale.
Yet, the value scale definitely has, well.... value. Understanding how our value choices create depth in our pictures, add dimension, or impact through contrast, are important to our designs. Referencing and finding my way through a 10 value range, however, is overwhelming and intimidating.
Recently I listened to a two different master artists discuss the 4-value scale. This scale ranges from very light to very dark, with just 3 values in between - the idea was to use the dark and light, and 2 of the 3 middle values. What a welcome notion to me, uncomplicated, easy to follow and implement.
Both master artists suggested this simplified scale would be instrumental in ensuring we include the much-needed contrast and thus higher impact, and backed up this intimation with several examples of the 4-value scale used in many famous paintings. I was sold. And, yes, indications are it's already helping my own art.
And I then realized that several visual and fibre artists I know who create stunning art are using this same scale, whether consciously or not.
A few additional tips, while we're on the topic:
What do the natural world and singing have in common? Combining these two dynamisms into videos is a compelling approach to bring attention to the effects of climate change on our beautiful planet.
Katarzyna Sadej, international opera and concert and classically trained mezzo-soprano, embarked on a project 4 years ago to use her voice as an artivist to highlight environmental issues such as melting glaciers and deforestation. She recently discussed this project with Artivism: The Power of Art for Social Transformation, a multi-institutional collaboration to engage people in changing society through the power of art. Her presentation can be viewed through their Artivism YouTube channel.
Katarzyna, through travels in Switzerland, California and Canada, captured her voice in various landscapes on planet earth, while learning videography skills and operating a mini drone. She experimented with how the voice travels in rocky environments, in snow (it's absorbed), across water, even recording the song-like sounds of the insect world. She has taken hours of footage in the last 4 years, singing, pausing, listening to the quiet and sounds, her operatic style complementing each of the environments, connecting with the evolving landscapes.
Her close-up videos of the insect world caught my attention the most. Raw. Slow. Fast. Scales. Flittering. Layering. Mimicking. Experiential. I watched and listened to this part several times, thought how she so aptly married her voice into this unfamiliar environment.
Opera has not been a genre I have had an interest in following, yet she gave me an appreciation for the training, the hours of practice, and the difference between opera and classical voice. And of course, how the voice can be an instrument to highlight the issues we need to learn more about, to protect our world, to help our climate, to preserve its fragile beauty.
On a final note, Katarzyna also laughingly shared with us a blooper reel - turning the spotlight to the challenges she had to overcome, all the while learning to film in all kinds of weather - and in unexpected - conditions: low oxygen environments, wind captured by the microphones, and even cows. Yes, cows. But the importance of laughing at ourselves as we learn is a message we need to hear, a poignant reminder that, yes, we still have much to learn about preserving our planet.
Links:
The Earth Singing Project Presentation to Artivism
Every once in a while we chance upon art that leaves us awestruck. A jaw-dropping calendar of photographs I received in 2015 had imprinted on me the beauty that can be found in this world - and the equally staggering destruction of our climate.
The calendar was created by Louis Helbig, based on aerial photographs from his book Beautiful Destruction, of the Alberta oil/tar sands, and the messages he conveys through his medium and the guest excerpts by several well-known personalities.
This calendar still hangs in my studio, 7 years later, so struck was I by his work: the patterns captured from the air, the expressive perspectives, the barrenness of the landscapes. My hope was that one day I too could capture such beauty in my art, developing my own artistic eye to see these unusual lines, forms, movement and patterns.
While my focus may not be about climate change (although it is a meaningful and important topic), I have begun in the last few years to capture the lines we find around us, both natural and manmade, and often altered or corroded by the elements. My Lineations series has been all about these lines.
Tree Rings |
I like to photograph these elements close-up, capturing snippets and affected areas that have rusted, corroded, decayed, weathered. The Japanese philosophy, Wabi-sabi is all about the beauty of things imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete, and plays a part in my art these days. This concept has given me a unique perspective as I look at the world around me. I now see with new eyes the beauty in rust, a flower past its prime, peeling paint, crumbling stone, the wrinkles in aging hands.
During a hike on a local trail last month, we happened upon a number of abandoned and rusted items - farm equipment, cars, a stove, fridge, tools - seemingly left behind on what used to be a farm in the 1950s. I likened these discards to outdoor art - and took many photos - suggestive of ideas for my own future fibre art.
A few years ago I embroidered a series on hands - the aging hands of four women over the age of 80 - along with a small biography on each of the very creative women I picked. I'm still fascinated with hands, as there is so much history, wisdom, and experience in their lines and scars. I called this series "Hands of Time".
To represent the timeworn lines of my subject, I like to use the sew 'n slash technique of layering fabrics, then cutting and distressing with agitation and heat, as well as adding embellishments, all revealing the characteristics and secrets hidden below the surface.
Okay, I admit it. My plan to do a daily textile practice with a specific piece of fibre art has fallen off the rails. I missed the goals posts on this one. Maybe it was doomed from the beginning because, after all, I didn't follow my own advice when making the plan. That advice being that, if I'm unsure of the next step on a piece, I should let it sit for a few days until the answer comes. That is exactly what my plan didn't include. And what I didn't follow at first.
But these last couple of weeks I did let it sit. I did turn turn to other works to create, and happily got drawn into those instead. So it's not like I wasn't doing something daily.
And then that lightbulb moment did arrive, which got me back on track with this piece, and gave me the next step.Quite simply, I realized it wasn't a piece to hang against the wall - it needed some shaping, forming, some kind of structure - to add some dimension. To change the conversation.
And so it is now a piece in the round. The hanging bits, which I didn't think worked earlier, now work. I also added more dark fabric around the top and bottom edges, adding contrast next to the lighter areas and hanging bits to help them pop somewhat. .
I really do like how it's hanging now. Is it done? I need to leave it for a few days to decide.
Related Posts:
6 ways to determine if your artwork is finished
Why Silence is Powerful in Art
It's easy to fall into the trap of making art that is too busy. To add too many elements to our designs. When we do that, we dilute what is important, we lose sight of the message we are trying to convey. The focal point can get lost. And our art becomes less memorable. It's the quiet - or silent - areas of our art that gives power to what should be in the spotlight.
We need to choose - and remember during the creation process - what we wish to take centre stage. To remove the elements that don't belong. We may be in love with a detail we have added and be reluctant to discard it. But if it doesn't add to our message, it needs to go. It needn't to be lost forever, it could simply become the focus of another piece, an idea to explore separately.
Like in music, our art needs both quiet parts where we can take a breath, and energetic areas that are in the limelight. The silent, subdued areas of our art allow the eye to rest, acting like an interlude, leading to the more intense and emotional sections our eyes are drawn to, just like the climax in a musical score. This is the power of silence in art.
My latest additions to my daily textile art piece have led to busy-ness. There is now too much going on and not enough restful spots. My eye doesn't know where to look. I had very much wanted to add ties pieces at the bottom, hanging down below the art, but it now needs tweaking.
That back & forth process of adding, layering, masking, removing elements is a necessary part of the creative process. And remembering to add quiet bits. Just like the music composer, parts are written, erased, changed, altered again, arranged, and so on until we find the right fit for our message. We seek balance, harmony, and movement, giving structure to our compositions, setting the stage for our audience.
It means not rushing, as that will result in frustration and pieces we are not happy with. Taking our time is what is needed, stepping back, letting it unfold. Letting the process roll out, not focusing on the end results. It's a dance of creation that we are experiencing. Enjoy the dance. Enjoy the rhythm. Allow the quiet spaces to emerge, giving power to where the energy needs to live.
In my last post I mentioned I felt there was a bit of a "map" theme going on in this art piece. I haven't pursued this just yet - it may still be an element that comes through. I may need to add more areas that do look like water, which will add some of the much needed silent spaces. So maybe the map will still come through.
Related Posts:
Art Destruction, De-construction, Re-making
Adding Contrast, My Daily Textile Challenge
Art Challenges Online - Do they Work for You?
I can't imagine making a piece of art, then destroying it. I have deconstructed a few pieces on occasion, salvaging most, if not all, the parts to be used in future. But the only time I recall destroying art was when I really did not like it and felt it could not be fixed or improved upon.
Art destruction is a thing. Some art is made to be temporary - a sand castle, an ice sculpture, cake decoration, the sand mandalas created by Tibetan monks. This latter example especially serves to help us understand that the process of creating is what is important, not the end result.
But re-making a piece of art I can relate to. This I have done. When something is not quite right, or when we realize it can be improved upon, re-making - or combining with other pieces - doesn't feel destructive. It feels like the right step to new beginnings.
At a mixed media class a few years back, we played with collage materials and paint and other delicious ways to make marks on paper. We didn't focus on making finished art, rather the class was about trying out these techniques, playing and seeing what exciting things we could come up with. Our pieces became wonderful backgrounds for future, as-yet-unknown art. I still have the wonderful backgrounds we made, although to this day have not used any of them. They have been awaiting a purpose ever since.
As mentioned in my last blog post, I am now incorporating one of these collaged papers into the fabric piece I am making as part of a daily textile practice. Pictured here is the background I chose, with the fabric portion laying on top.
Admittedly, I didn't do any stitching, sewing, adding or cutting of fabrics for a few days even though my goal was to something daily. Rather, I contemplated how I wanted the fabric and paper collage to work together. The idea that materialized was to cut both so they could be woven together. After living with this viewpoint for a few days, it was feeling right. I was not going to rush - having learned my lesson many times that it's better to wait a few days and feel confident about a decision than to rush and regret it.
The first cut was the hardest. My head asked if I was doing the right thing, There was no looking back after all. My intuition however kept saying this was right. And that is what I had to follow. There was no other answer that seemed correct.
Once the first cut is out of the way, it gets much easier. I cut slits in the paper collage, then began cutting the fabric piece into strips to weave into the paper. With a few decision about parts to not cut (these areas would become features), the weaving is part way done.
I'm pleased with how this is looking so far. Following my intuition was exactly right, not rushing to find the answer. Looking at this photo of the work, I'm reminded a bit of a map. Maybe that's a hint at what my next step should be?
Related Posts:
Adding some contrast - my daily textile challenge
Art challenges online: Do they work for you?
This is an update to my post earlier this week on my textile art challenge. I've been doing a little bit most days, and this piece as part of my new Daily Textile Practice has taken an interesting turn.
I've sewn on a few bits and cut through the layers of some fabrics to get some movement in the piece. I also added a fabric with a pattern I wasn't fabric, but one which I did a bit of eco-printing on - the colours seemed to be a good fit.
Sometimes a piece seems to take a lot of work and many layers before we feel it coming to life, before it turns into a dynamic art piece that reflects the message that we want to convey. This is a very normal part of the creative process, yet one that many people can get hung up on. As one art teacher has so rightly pointed out years ago "art has to go through an ugly stage before it becomes beautiful". It's taken years of art-making for me to learn patience with the progress and building of layers.
For this particular textile piece, I was expecting some construction as well as de-construction, that I would be taking two steps forward and one step back, aa and that at times I would feel some frustration at progress.
But stepping back to allow the next steps to come to us is important.
"...What I normally do is just leave it and let it marinate. Then [I] either go back to it and think, "Oh, you know what, that bit of the lyric is OK but I need to fix it," or write a complete new set of lyrics. But I think everyone gets the block from time to time."
Can you relate to this? And this isn't just a name of someone we don't know, but a real artist we are all familiar with.
As I worked on my piece, I was feeling that while the colours were harmonious, I was a long way from creating a dynamic look.
Then, while tidying my studio, I came across 2 painted/mixed media papers done in a class a few years back, mostly paper, with some stitching, but never finished. I had kept them in case one day, you know, I would find the use for them.
One I thought was the right fit - shown here with the houses - I have loved making art of buildings over the years, and this one to me added a bit of sense of home. And yet it wasn't as harmonious as I first thought it would be. The colours were a bit off, as was the scale, throwing the whole look somewhat off balance
Do you agree with my choice? Here are the photos of the abstract one. I've included black & white photos too which are better at showing off the darks and lights.
Many people tell me they don't have a creative bone in their body. That they can't draw a straight line. Which leads me to the ques...