Fun to see how a friend will be displaying her blob cluster. Because it will be hanging on a neutral wall, she designed a close fitting backing and covered it with an emerald green paper. Display variations on these multiples are endless!
THE FELT STORE SPONSORSHIP
I’m happy to announce that The Felt Store has supplied a stash of remnant pieces of their wool blend craft felt for use in a new body of work. These pieces will further my work to date making abstract organic forms using stuffed and folded fabric elements, with the usual dose of surprises along the way, no doubt. With a working title of Every Last Drop, the project continues my commitment to utilizing scrap materials in my creative process and also refers to the many drips, bubbles, and ripples of this series.
It’s such a gift to be able to use this extended season of Covid to experiment with multiples at home on my own timeline. I’m reminded that last summer I strained to keep up with the prompts I had created for myself for participating in the 100 Day Project. Over the project timeline, a creator is supposed to brainstorm and iterate daily on a theme for over three months. This could be as simple as draw a cat or as complex or conceptual as one’s own imagination. While it is a powerful way to push through blocks and those nagging questions of whether something is ‘good’ and just keep going, it was difficult for me to share pieces on social media that I didn’t love, which is simply inevitable over that period of time.
That said, it was also during this period that Guide Stars rushed into being, a body of work that I’m quite proud of, so I’m convinced of the value of the effort while at the same time wish there was a way to hold one’s self accountable without having to publicly post so many duds. This summer I’ll enjoy going at my own pace and presenting images of my work when I’m satisfied with them. Without the other experience, however, it’s likely that I wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate the beauty in this kind of slowing down. Despite the challenges brought on this year, I hold huge gratitude for the endless opportunities to reflect, create, and grow.
MAKING EMPTY HOUSES HOMES
A couple of weeks ago, Claire, in her alternate role as marketing director at the Houston Furniture Bank, asked me if I might donate work to the inaugural show and auction at their art gallery. I’d never been to the space and offered to drop the pieces off and get a tour. I’d be remiss in mentioning that a car trip outside of my neighborhood held a rare thrill given 2020’s unique terms.
In hindsight, I could have made more of the opportunity to pose with a heap of foam, but I suppose after months of solitude, any performative instincts will require some warm up.
I donated Spring Moon to the auction and Blue Drip to the gallery. While I was delighted to learn that the former sold to an eager bidder, I was more excited by how quickly I was notified that the other piece had also been claimed.
I do hope that other artists in town will consider contributing pieces to the effort (details here). The auction raised funds to provide new beds to children in need in Houston, while the gallery donation provided a family with an original work of art to take home. The experience really made plain to me the thrill of adding to the energy of a fresh start and I look forward to fueling this initiative into the future.
RED ALERT
After an especially gray week that essentially felt like one long rainy afternoon, the mere sight of sun, not to mention how it saturated the piece I was working on, seemed worthy of adding to my list of everyday magic. Less welcome and hardly a surprise, however, was the notification I’d received earlier in the day along with other Houston residents announcing that the virus threat had escalated to its most severe level, a most unfortunate coincidence.
FLATTENING THE CURVE
While I hope that in the not too distant future, the title of this post will confound a reader, right now, it refers very obviously to the shared global experience of staying put and limiting social interaction in the hopes of slowing the spread of coronavirus, our current pandemic .
Faced with the suggestion of weeks under ‘lockdown’, I’ve overheard many different sentiments, mostly on the nope, can’t do it side of the spectrum. For me, spending expansive stretches of time by myself is a givenn — in solitude is how most artists breathe — so I had no concerns about my psychological ability to handle the situation. What I didn’t expect was the absolute relief it has offered. At the risk of sounding sanctimonious, being freed from all expectation of social participation has been among the more expansive sensations I’ve had. It’s as if the energy I donated to the ongoing inner conflict of whether or not to attend this or that event has poured straight into the vessel of creation; truly, I can’t remember the last time I felt such a fire to experiment, prototype, and create.
That said, what I’m up to now draws heavily on a previous work, Ripple Effect. While that piece was made of discarded neoprene sponge gasket centers, these pieces employ the leftover stash of virgin felt acquired during a commissioned project. The term ‘ripple effect’ has jumped out to me numerous times daily in reading about the potential economic aftereffects of the coronavirus. Similarly, at the time that I first made that piece, the fallout from the 2008 crash was continuing to regularly conjure the metaphor.
These new pieces I’m making, like their predecessor, employ accumulations of folded fabric, yet are wall mounted sculptures. While they may appear three-dimensional, the works all have flat backs, hence my reference in the title to the tagline of public health initiatives. My other intention with these new pieces is to create noise-canceling decorative works in joy inducing colors and textures. With all of the time we are spending at home these days, I feel like anything that may mute out the neighbors, not to mention the constant clang of the media fear machine, is urgently useful.
INSTALLATION AT AMARILLO MUSEUM OF ART
On a more random note, I swooned at signage for New Age Beverages hovering over a Topo Chico display, which made me wonder a couple of things. First, does this signify that some part of me truly misses Texas? The only grocery store I'm aware of that refers to cold brew and fermented delights this way is the Fiesta on Wayside in Houston. And second, if mineral water is new age, then what’s left for crystals?
From Carlsbad, I ventured up through Roswell and then back in to Texas to install Soft Targets at the Amarillo Museum of Art.
I had Sunday to play with while in town and went out to Palo Duro canyon, yet learned upon arrival that all of the trails were closed due to half a year’s worth of rainfall soaking the area over the last four days. When the ranger suggested I take a scenic drive I thought about all of the miles I’d already covered and politely declined. On the drive back into town, I saw what I didn’t realize would be one in a herd of horses marking any kind of business you could imagine—bank, Starbucks, funeral home—all in the same staggered pose.
The current AMOA Biennial, Textile + Fiber, opens October 11th and is curated by Alex Unkovic of the Fabric Workshop and Museum.
Don’t be fooled by this initial install shot—over ninety clusters make up the piece I’m presenting at the museum and I spent the better part of a day on site clustering them into place.
While I was there, it was awesome to see sister Houston artist and friend Claire there in spirit with her contribution, Sprung.
IN THE WILD
One of these soft sculptural components didn’t make it into the finished installation. The result? Basically me wandering around outside the house with it a couple days after getting home, in a desperate attempt to come up with a gesture for The 100 Day Project. I was so tickled by the sight of this blob emerging from a strip of ferns by the driveway, of course, that now I’m tempted to take it around with me and plop it on EVERYTHING…
