Looking down the tunnel, photo by Stefano Catalani

Last week I had the great pleasure of working with Rick Araluce on the finishing touches of his installation, The Great Northern, at MadArt in Seattle. I’ve been a big fan of Rick’s since I saw his installation, Uprising, at Suyama Space. Rick plays with scale to help us really see what surrounds us, usually something plebeian like a stack of pallets in front of an eroded brick wall. Sometimes the works are miniatures and sometimes larger than life, but all are meticulously crafted and just a little bit creepy. He’s a truly gifted artist whose day job as a scenic artist at the Seattle Opera contributes to his ability to create magical deception.

Rick and Lara Ann laying out the ties

So when I found out that Rick was creating a half-size scale replica of the train tunnel that runs under Seattle in the MadArt gallery space, I was determined to lend a hand. A little bit pushy, even. Rick knows my work and that I’m pretty detail-minded myself, so he invited me to come down and help.

Affixing the ties, notice knife for scale

I spent the first day with Lara Ann, a student at Cornish, laying out the rail road ties, sized from 7/16″ to 3-5/8″ wide and then affixing them to the floor. When I returned two days later, Rick had laid the rails, and Lara Ann and I spent the day on our knees packing gravel in between the ties and rails. We gradated it in size from playground sand in the very back of the tunnel to 1/4,” to 3/8,” and finally to 5/8″ to keep the illusion of the forced perspective. I relate to the gestalt of taking care of every detail. Probably no one will ever see some of those details, but they are sure to sense if something is wrong.

playground sand for gravel at the end of the tunnel

It was fun to be down at MadArt, too. I was an artist in the first MadArt project, creating The Act of Becoming as part of The Window Art Project. I got a chance to catch up with Alison Milliman, the Founder and to get to know Tim Detweiler, the Director. The have a great mission, supporting artists creating large-scale installations. I really got more credit from them than I felt I deserved for my contribution, but there’s a lot to be said for showing up at the right time with the right attitude.

I have been so lucky in my work to have fabulous volunteers help me realize my own large-scale projects. It felt good to give back, paying it forward, or backward, or something like that. It was fun to just show up and help Rick, and not have to do the hard work of planning or thinking, but just putting in time and labor. It’s like my long ago days in theater, or working on the Solstice Parade, where everyone does their part to make the whole.

I’ve been working on the railroad.

And really, although the work itself was somewhat grueling, there was plenty of joy in it, too. While I was working in the back of the tunnel, brushing tiny gravel fragments between the ties with a brush, Scott Bennet who designed the sound and lights for the installation and Rick were fine-tuning the sound. Inside the tunnel, hearing the sound of a train approaching from a distance and then retreating over and over again, I experienced a little shift in reality. For a moment, I was a giant in relation to my surroundings, filling the Great Northern before the moment passed, and I was myself again.

And then there was the laughing. Rick is the funniest Guggenheim Fellow I know. Anytime Dude, really.

The Great Northern
Exhibit: January 17th-February 27th, 2016
Hours: Wednesday-Saturday, 12-6pm (and by appointment)

The Great Smoky Mountains National Park

From October 8th to 11th I attended Made/Aware, the Surface Design Association Intensive at Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, on the edge of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Over the course of four days, twelve time slots were filled with over 20 presentation options to hear from makers and curators working in socially engaged practices with textiles. In between these sessions was a reception for Materialities, SDA’s 1st International Juried Members Exhibition (selected images are shown in this post), shared meals, conversations in the hallways, and the opportunity to spend time with the thoughtfully curated exhibition. Intensive was an appropriate title for the experience.

Ori-Kume #45, Susan Cavanaugh, Cloth, stitched and dyed, 2014

As a presenter myself of 10x20x20: Socially Engaged Work by SDA Members, a pecha kucha-style panel (see previous blog post for more information), I really enjoyed feeling a part of the whole. It was a delight to meet the members of the panel in person. Each of them had shared such personal work that it was a pleasure to connect with them.

#433 Local Journey: Dawn, Day, Dusk (detail), Janice Lessman-Moss, Linen, paper core, digital jacquard, hand-woven TC2, shifted ikat weft, 2014

Namita Gupta Wiggers, curator of Materialities, opened the Intensive. She spoke of her curatorial process for the exhibition. Over 2000 artworks were entered by over 500 artists for the 91 artists in the catalog and 51 in the exhibition. I was disappointed when I got my rejection notice but once I saw the show I understood that my work didn’t fit. (It helped that there were many of us there, including leaders and mentors, who didn’t get in either.) Namita spoke of her investigating question, “What do textiles/fibers and their associated processes offer artists that cannot be achieved in other media?” The textile works she chose referenced the essential building block of the media, the grid. She also selected those works that then broke the grid and those that address other surfaces than the wall. All of these pieces illustrated the very “materiality” of textiles. Two video pieces illustrated both making, and unmaking, of garments imbued with culture and tradition. Work made with traditional fibers was shown alongside textiles in 2- and 3-dimensions created with metals, fishing net, clothing, paper, feathers, and even a mop. Techniques included weaving, embroidery, sewing, felting, dyeing, painting, and photography, all with a direct connection to the hand.

SDA has published a beautiful catalog of Materialities that includes artist statements, essays, and illustrations of all the works. It’s a valuable survey of some of what is happening internationally in fibers. I enjoyed looking at the work with the other artists, often trying to puzzle out how it was made. We fiber people are curious sorts, I think a result of the process-driven investigations that are inherent in our practices. I wonder if there are any other media that are as broad in materials and technique as fibers?

Materialities, Letters from Broadway, Judith Plotner, Fiber/Mixed Media, 2014

Friday morning began with a moving and motivating talk by Mary Fisher, artist and HIV/AIDS activist, whose passion for art and activism are intertwined. She rejects the idea of being a victim of disease, stating that illness is just a part of life like motherhood or caring for the elderly. She drew a comparison between the bravery of living with disease to that required to be an artist and encouraged us to look beyond self-interest and self-promotion and use, “what is holy in us to help others.”

Materialities, The Impossible Dream is the Gateway to Self-Love (detail), Ruth Miller, Hand-stitched embroidery, wool on jute cotton fabric, 2013

Fisher’s talk became a touchstone for the Intensive, giving attendees a way in, a way of seeing themselves in solutions. She spoke of her current work developing the 100 Good Deed Bracelet which both supports small business for women in Africa and encourages people to anonymously go out of their way to help others. It may seem odd, but I thought of Burning Man and how the ethos of gifting is one of the 10 Principles of the event. Although perceived by many to be a hedonistic party in the desert (it is that, too), it was founded to be a model of a different society where a gift is a helping hand as often as a consumable object.

Friday afternoon’s session was co-led by Namita and Rowland Ricketts, a professor at Indiana University. In this session they took us out of the passive role of sitting and listening and into an active role, writing, responding, and moving in a meditative silent exercise. Although I think it would have been more successful in a smaller gathering, I appreciated the chance to step literally outside of the box. The participants seemed willing participants and for me, the writing was a fertile beginning to a longer writing about personal process.

Materialities, Variance 1, Mary Babcock, Reclaimed gillnets, nautical maps, deep sea leader line, 2011

Other speakers included Laura Sansone talking about the Textile Lab, a project where she and her students bring natural fibers and dyeing to their local Farmer’s Market and introduce the community to processing and dyeing wool with the plant materials found there at the market. Carole Frances Lung, aka Frau Fiber, talked of her radical performative actions designed to educate people about where their clothing comes from and the our unsustainable system of “Fast Fashion.” Rowland Ricketts took us along on his personal journey and fascination with indigo.

Materialities, Transformation, Joyce Watkins King, Acrylic and stockings on cradled board, 2014

Ann Morton led a breakout session on socially engaged art. Her work with the homeless population of Phoenix, Arizona is both accessible and conceptual. She avoids the taint of the “do-gooder” by observation and listening, understanding and speaking to homeless individuals and their experience, while creating installations that are undeniably art. After her presentation, Ann led a successful group conversation about the difference between “socially engaged practices” and “social work.” It was highly participatory and good to hear the opinions of those in the room.

10x20x20 was Saturday afternoon and was a huge success. All ten presenters did a fantastic job and received a well-deserved standing O. I loved hearing their stories after all the time I had spent looking at their images. It was a huge pleasure (and relief) that it fulfilled all of the hopes I had for it, connecting members and allowing for deeper conversations. I received many compliments on putting it together and was asked by the Board to repeat the panel at future conferences.

Materialities, Self Portrait (detail), Howard Ptaszek, Cyanotype on mop, and yarn, 2014

The weekend’s sessions were closed by Charlotte Kwon of Maiwa Handprints, a Canadian company that works with native artisans in India to produce hand-made textiles for the western market. Her work in India has supported the resurgence of native craft and use of natural dyes. Her presentation was very inspiring. The scope of what she has supported is enormous. Through Maiwa, her vision and determination has bridged gaps between western and eastern culture and provided income to native populations that has allowed these unique arts to survive in the modern world.

Overall, the excellent programming and the intimate setting of this Intensive made it well worthwhile to fly across the country for a long weekend. Personally, I would have enjoyed broadening the topic beyond natural dyeing to include ways to use synthetic dyes in a more environmentally responsible way. There is more to reforming the global fashion industry than boiling up carrot tops and many of the presenters spoke to the fact that their practices are not scaleable to a larger industry, at least not yet.

meeting my doppelganger!

But I truly enjoyed it and hope that SDA continues to present these smaller, more focused Intensives. As I wrote on my Facebook page on Saturday night after a couple of margaritas with new friends, “I’ve had such an amazing and thought-provoking time at the Surface Design Assoc. Intensive at Arrowmont in Tennessee. If you are an artist working in textile materials then these are your people.” After time to digest this full feast of inspiration, and fully sober, I would say the same thing.

The road leading to Burning Man

This year’s trip to the Black Rock Desert was very different for me than last year’s. In 2014 I co-created Playastan Crossroads, an art installation, for Burning Man. The project was ambitious, heartfelt, and a mountain of hard work for our crew. Unlike my other trips to the playa, I was a working artist. I was Cameron Anne Mason, tied to my default persona, and although it was a deeply satisfying experience, it wasn’t that much fun.

This time I came to play. Like many other people at Burning Man, I have a “playa name,” Trixie LaRue. Trixie is a bit of a flirt, a little bit mischevious, but willing to go deep when the time is right. It’s fun to be someone different for that week away from responsibility and expectations.

Trixie at the trash fence

This year’s Burning Man was dustier and windier than usual (though not as dusty as 2008). And it was COLD. Several days it didn’t get above 70 degrees and it was in the 30s at night. It was a year to stay close to camp, to connect with others who are moved to come to this beautiful and desolate place for its alternative culture. John Curley wrote a lovely post on the Burning Man blog, And that’s that, that summed the intimate feeling of this year’s Festival.

My yearly sojourns to the Black Rock Desert have followed an arc of self-awareness. The first year blew the doors off my mind. It helped me realize how many preconceptions we live with. It helped me get out of my own way on the journey to being my whole self. (10 Principles of Burning Man). Since that first year my husband has come with me and we have learned new ways of being a couple. Years four through six, were the RV years, much more comfortable and much more fun, but I missed the lessons learned through hardship. For me, Burning Man shouldn’t be just a vacation. My seventh burn I made Playastan Crossroads and we celebrated our 20th Wedding Anniversary by renewing our vows there with our playa family.

R-Evolution by Marco Cochrane

This year, my eighth, was not without self-growth along with all the fun I was having. First, I finally realized that there is simply no way to see or experience it all. Of course, that fact is obvious to anyone who’s been there, but this year I finally felt at peace with it. I took my opportunities to get out and see art when the weather cleared, but was happy to stay in camp when it was ugly out. I laughed hard, shared stories and formed closer bonds with our amazing camp family from all over California, Seattle, Texas, Boston, and beyond.

The other thing I realized is that I really don’t like being out at night that much. It’s not just because I’m tired, I’m cold, I’m not a great bicyclist, I’m not doing drugs, although all those things are true. It’s because all the lights, and loud music, and people zooming around me are too over-stimulating for me. I did have some good times on the playa after dark, but I really prefer the days.

A peak experience this year was riding alone across the city from where I was visiting a friend’s camp all the way across from our camp at 3:00 and Illusion as the wind and dust were rising. After eight years, I know how to be radically self-reliant. With my goggles and bandanna to protect me from the fine alkaline dust, I rode straight across the playa, keeping my bearings as the white outs blew through, following the lamplighter’s posts along the Promenades. And as I rode along I felt the powerful among the elements and shouted, “I’m not afraid of Burning Man!”

That, and seeing a flaming piano launched by a trebuchet.

The questions people ask me about Burning Man are fed by the media’s perception of the event. “Did you get bitten up by bugs? Did you get rained out? Is the city being taken over by the rich? Did you see Katy Perry? Susan Sarandon? Anyone famous?”

To which I answer: The Bugopolypse was over by the time we got there. Rain was last year.

As far as the wealth and how it divides the event, Black Rock City is a city that, in many ways, is like any other: There are the haves and the have-nots. I compare a trip to Burning Man to a trip to Europe. Rich travelers travel first-class, stay in fancy hotels, eat at four-star restaurants, ride in taxis. Poor students save up for tickets, travel with their backpacks, eat baguettes in the park, take the Metro, and depend on the kindness of strangers. It’s the same in Black Rock City. Any judgement on the value of one experience over the other is just that, judgement.

And yes, I saw famous people, but no one those asking would recognize. Every morning I saw Lucky Eric, famous for gifting not just coffee, but a choice of cold brew, french press, or espresso with heavy cream. Izzle, who is famous for creating one of the best, low-tech gray water systems on the playa while looking stunning in a little red dress, pearls and a hard hat. And there’s Famous, friend, Ranger, member of DPW who’s still there doing DeCon, and who I suspect is his fullest, best self at Burning Man. These are the people who raise my home away from home, Camp 11:11, from the dust. Camp 11:11 hosts the friendliest bar on the playa, a kick-ass art car, and delicious family suppers every night. It’s the Shvitz Carleton.

Ever since last year’s Burning Man it has been hard for me to move beyond Playastan Crossroads. I put so much of myself into the project that I was drawn dry of inspiration, far beyond what I had experienced before. It was disconcerting that Playastan still had hold of me, that I hadn’t felt a sense of completion, even a year later.

When we hit the road toward this year’s festival my excitement built and something began to shift. As my husband and I  drove south, we talked about past experiences, the campmates we couldn’t wait to see, read the descriptions of this year’s art installations and scheduled events both profound and silly. I began to feel a lightness taking over the heaviness that had been with me since 2014.

That night, lying in bed in our cute little trailer just north of Alturas, California I was unable to sleep. I found myself designing my next Burning Man installation in my head. Less ambitious in design, but still meaningful, it will be a place both open and intimate. It  will provide shelter, shade and a sense of place for those travelers who pass their last week of Summer filled with wonder at beauty of community.

Hybycozo – Deep Thought