Dorothy Caldwell - Human Marks Workshop

As an artist, I have understood the connection between the creative spark from the brain/soul/heart through the hand into the processing of material, stone, fabric paper etc.

After experiencing this workshop, and listening to Dorothy Caldwell, I have a greater understanding of the human factors within this creative transition.  There is a physicality with the use of the hand, an ability of muscle which includes strength, flexibility, and individuality. Tension, length, rhythm, are personal traits of the processes used in creating. Stitch, cutting, lettering, marking with so many instruments and methods are individual to the maker.  Handwriting can be read by an expert and personality traits can be assessed.  The writing can be assigned to a specific individual. So can the result a the physical touch of an artist, a maker, a craftsperson in their hand created pieces.

I can have more joy in the results of my quilts, vessels, painting -  appreciating the  personality, the individuality of  my marks, my stitches.

Not only can I accept the individuality of my marks, I have a better understanding of the history of my marks.  I have a connection to stitchers, mark makers of the generations of the human race before me leaving their marks on what they touched.

I am grateful to be a maker today, using a huge dictionary of marks, using old and new techniques,  using the old and new  products.  I can be traditional or unique and be part of the stream of makers putting their mark on their creations. I can appreciate the individuality of my marks and appreciate mark makers before me.

My tension, my pressure, my rhythm, my creations.

In Order to Race, I have to Slow Down

It's not the tortoise and the hare.  I am the only one in the race.  The race is.....?

Is there a race? Should there be a race?  Do I have to race to fulfill my goals, or do I have to change what I want from art?

What are my goals? What do I want from art?  Some of my friends can answer that question, not for me, but for themselves. 

What I want to say- to express, gets all mixed up with what I can produce, my ability with technique-  my ability to produce, ----my ability!

So, I worry that I am not there yet.  Where?  The finish line?  The final lap of what race?  I came to art late.  I have been creative all my life.  I have only been exposed to fiber art for the last several years.  These years were spent absorbing possibility.

Now that I have found an idea, a method of expression-  I am afraid that I will not  fulfill my expectations.

I think I have to mute my expectations and enjoy the process.  Slowly, with enjoyment, find the opportunity to express with the tools, actual and internal, that I have without worry of the result.  Be true to me and what is important to me.

Enjoy the process.

Start and Stop Art

When I stop in the middle of handwriting a letter and start again, the handwriting never looks the same.  The pen may be different.  The slant of the letters may have varied.  The size of the letters is different.

My mood is different.  I may be more or less relaxed.  I may have a time restriction and hurry.  I may have lost the train of consciousness from the first part of the letter. 

It is different.

So, too, are the pieces I lose touch with and don't complete.  Picking up the feel, the touch, the emotion from the beginning of a creation is difficult with a pause in the work..  The idea is still there.  The materials are still there.  The intension is still there, but the I don't seem to be able to find the same flow.

I have just finished two pieces that were begun several months ago.  The work had passed through the mechanics into the final stages.  They were both disasters.  The colors were not right.  The pieces didn't seem to fit together. I struggled.  I had lost the flow of the piece.

Lesson learned.  Follow through, enjoy the process.

Rosalie Dace Workshop

What a marvelous, creative! I am so glad I had the chance to take a workshop with her.

Three days working with talented FRCQ artists, creating, learning, listening.

"Trees" was the exercise.  Talk about unlimited options.  I have always been fascinated with trees.  I suppose most artists have been at some time in their career.  Not that I have a career----.  I learned about trees from my Godmother, Helen Turner and from May Watts of the Morton Arboretum outside of Chicago. At age 6, Mom and I took a class together learning the names of trees, the shapes of their leaves, special things about them.  There seem to be more species in the east than here in the Colorado plains and foothills, even the mountain forests and waterways. Illinois, where I grew up, is at the edge of the of the native forest and the prairie.  It is a place of mixed ecology and there are changing plants and trees and landscapes that continued to evolve as the cities replaced the open space, as cultivated fields replaced prairies, as suburbs replaced farms.

There is just too much to think about in the wide open subject matter of trees.  Symbolisim, genealogy, ecology, texture, color, shape, line, singles, bunches, forest edges, aspen glades, were all options.  Simplify - start with one tree, start with the trunk, show it in its place. A TREE IN SITU.

I have a great stash of commercial fabric and I chose pieces that would work for me, close up grass, tree line farther back and a fall foliage as a canopy.  I usually work in smaller pieces with more organic shapes.  This piece is larger and the fabrics became a horizontal stack creating depth with a lot of interest. The tree was a hoot, stripping warp and weft to create texture.

Here is a picture if the top in its unfinished state. Maybe I will be able to post future updates.

 

Multi-media = Multi-mess

My space!  Oh, my!    Working in multi-media, I collect all kinds of "stuff" that I might use one day.

Many of my pieces have been enhanced by just the right piece of something that I have had for years.  I am so used to moving things of ancient age from one place to another that they have become friends.  I don't discard friends!

If I have saved  special beads since I was a teenager, they must have value, at least merit.  What ever happened to the " If you haven't used it in six months- pitch it."?  It takes more than six months to mull over an idea, much less execute it.  And- if the stash of stuff doesn't work for today's piece, it may work for one next month, or next year.

My mother's organ finally could not be repaired anymore. She didn't play it because some of the notes were so out of tune.  There were no buyers.  It had no purpose.

My grandson and I took it apart.  We saved all the screws, wires, pedals, keys, circuit boards and the carved wood music rest.  We loaded several plastic bins with parts and the pieces too large for a bin were hung on the wall in the garage.

I passed on the larger pieces, took the circuit boards to the studio and my husband made a board to hang keys from the music rest. He, at least was productive.  But -

A Call For Entry

A recycle challenge - there it was!-----  I used the circuit boards for my entry and the piece hung in a show last fall. Here are pictures to prove that some hoarded objects can be "just the right thing".  Just where do I store them?

This piece is called Beaded Circuit. Subtitled: Organ Donor 1.  I hope there will be more.

40 West Arts - a creative district

I have become a member of 40 West Arts.  This is a creative district along Colfax in the Denver metro area.

Last fall I had a piece juried into "Farm to Table", Things that Grow on Vines.

This was a piece originally inspired by a challenge to depict what you saw when you opened your refrigerator.

I used painted fabric background, thread painting, applique and twine and organza..

Here is the piece:  Fresh Vegetables

New Opportunities - New Workspace

New opportunities are waiting for me.  I have a new space in which to work!  Situations change.   I have more time and have switched the guest bedroom and the sewing room.    Sorry -- quests will have to do with the smaller room.

Here are a few pictures of my new space.