Category Archives: Inspiration

The Dresses, part III

These dresses have me in thrall. I’m fascinated by them as part of a process and also as objects. They hold meaning by their existence, their former use and age, their preciousness and fragility. They are poignant and they are beautiful.

one of the dresses on the screen before I take it off for printing

Here are some photos from my last printing session with them. I’m enjoying how they are changing, as they absorb dye, are washed, and are dyed again.

When I think and write about my work the overarching theme is change over time, whether glacial or within our lifetimes. Even though this work is vastly different from what I’ve been doing for the past few years, I think it fits within my body of work. For now, I’m not worrying about it too much. I’m exploring and following my passion.

another dress on a screen

the dress silhouetted from the other side of the screen

the dresses after I take them off the screens

the screens ready to print

printing a screen

breakdown print 1

print 2

print 3

Closer to Home

Several times while I was in Paris I had conversations with people about my home, Seattle. I was always a little surprised that they were so interested in visiting here. Why on earth would someone from Paris want to visit here?

One day during our trip I wandered into a beautiful little ribbon shop on the Place des Vosges. It was so precious and I was overwhelmed by the selection. I wanted to buy something, but what? Feathers? Sequins? Delicate white lace? My husband was waiting outside so I just took some pictures and let it go.

There’s nothing like travel to give you new perspective on your life. That ribbon shop in Paris helped me remember Nancy’s Sewing Basket here in Seattle. Nancy’s is a boutique fabric store with the finest fabrics in town. It’s where you go if you’re making your wedding dress, need some fine wool for a suit, a special button, or, yes, some lovely ribbon. My husband and I bought ribbon there almost 20 years ago to tie each of our wedding invitations. It’s that kind of place.

It was time for a visit. While I was there I tracked down some very fine and sharp hand sewing needles and bought some quarter yards of lace to use for breakdown printing screens.

I travel because it opens my mind to new experiences. It also reminds me of what’s special about coming home.

a selection of ribbons at Nancy's

Paris!

What an amazing city! I spent 8 days in Paris with my family over our Spring Break. I took over 800 photos so it’s taking me some time to edit them down. Here are just a few shots of the city, the museums, and the glorious food. Much more to come!

at the Louvre

door detail at the Louvre

in the Islamic Wing at the Louvre

door detail in the Islamic Wing at the Louvre

the back of the door

an installation being prepared at the Louvre--looks like fiber art to me!

at Pere La Chaise Cemetary

Pere La Chaise

detail of the steps at the Eiffel Tower

the Tour d'Eiffel!

the window at Deyrolle, a famous taxidermy shop

a well deserved break after all that walking

inside the D'Orsay Museum

the D'Orsay

Sacre Couer on the top of Montmart

street art

cassis and pistachio marshmallows at Pain du Sucre

a beautiful tart at Pain du Sucre

the Carnavelet Museum

the Carnavelet

booksellers

a ribbon shop on the Place des Vosges

The Big Island of Hawaii

I just got back from a dance and yoga retreat on the Big Island of Hawaii. I didn’t take many pictures because we were in class for about 4 and half hours a day!

sunrise

Here a few though, always focusing in on patterns and textures. Enjoy.

jackfruit

lava patterns

Ironwood tree

ironwood needles making pattern on lava rock

at MacKenzie Beach Park

Costa Rica

I just returned from a family vacation to Costa Rica. It’s a beautiful country and we enjoyed the warm weather, flora, fauna, friendly people, and good food. As always, I took lots of pictures of plants. Here are a few images of the amazing plants from the three different ecosystems we visited: lowland tropical rainforest, cloud forest, and a working organic farm.

palm fruit

heliconia

achiote or lipstick plant

gunnera

giant fiddleheads

pineapple

banana

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

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.

Stitch on Paper

For the last few weeks I’ve been working on a book. I started it in my workshop with Larry Calkins and it’s what I focused on during my Orcas Island retreat. It’s a repository of marks. It’s a place to make without engaging my inner critic. It’s a place to play and experiment. I’ve been obsessed with it, working both at the studio and at home after everyone’s fed and the kitchen is cleaned up.

In the book I’ve experimented with a lot of different techniques but with a very limited palette: black, white, and brown. I used sumi and walnut inks, white acrylic paint, black and brown water-based printing ink, toner transfers, black and white thread, charcoal, graphite, and conte crayon. I painted, printed, drew, cut, tore, collaged, and stitched. I worked back and forth through the book, adding layers until each page felt complete.

Over the years, my studio-mates and I have critiqued each others’ work both formally and informally. It’s been pretty informal for the last 18 months or so because of transitions in all of our lives. But now that the Fall is upon us we are back to planning and scheduling our sessions. I went first today with my book.

I was excited to show it to them. The book feels big to me, like a dictionary of my personal language of imagery. But I was also nervous. Would they flip through idly? Say, “hmm, that’s nice.” It is, after all, not a finished piece or something I would show in a gallery, but a record of being in the moment. It is an attempt to reset my brain and my hand after a long slog through production before I jump back into the process of making.

sumi and walnut inks, toner transfer

walnut ink, brush pen, stitched paper

monoprint, walnut ink, stamped acrylic paint

I didn’t need to worry. Paul, Anna, and Pam pored over every page. They asked questions, oohed and aahed, got into my process. They really saw the book as the big step that I feel it is. They made suggestions of ways to build on what I’ve started. Ideas of developing some of my visual ideas into drawings or prints. Ideas that make me nervous because I don’t know how to do that yet. Ideas to push me out of my comfort zone. But isn’t that what I’ve been after?

So what have I learned about myself, my process, and my language of mark making? I’ve learned that, at least for now, stitch is integral to my work. By making the choices I did with my media, from stitching on paper to drawing lines of dots to transferring copies of my dyed fabrics, thread and stitch are what I’m drawn to over and over. Color, form, and texture are all important, but stitch is constant.

So where does this lead? What is next? How do I incorporate this into my existing work? I don’t know. I think I just have to start and it will seep in to the new work. It’s already there.

sumi and walnut inks

walnut ink stamped on to stitched paper

walnut and sumi inks, brush marker, toner transfer

collage, printed cheesecloth, stamped and painted walnut and sumi ink

collage, monoprint, walnut and sumi ink

monoprint

monoprinting with stitched paper

Retreat to Orcas Island

on the ferry to Orcas

I spent three days alone on Orcas Island this last week at Doe Bay Resort. It’s a lovely spot that I’ve been to many times, but not since my kids were born. I rented a little cabin all to myself and filled it with food, music, and art supplies. I took hikes, drank tea, listened to music, and played at art. It was a retreat, a chance to get some head space after the busy summer, to make marks on paper without attachment, and to be reinvigorated by nature.

the trail at Obstruction Pass State Park

big leaf maple

I was drawn to the San Juan Islands for their beauty and specifically for the madrone trees. I’ve been thinking about them as inspiration for my next body of work. Madrones, arbutus menziesii, are spectacular trees. Their rough outer orange bark peels away to reveal a muscular bright green inner bark. They grow on rocky cliffs and outcroppings overhanging the sound, twisted by storms. Their textile-like bark sheds and collects in piles at their bases. It was gratifying and satiating to just sit with them.

arbutus menziesii

On my last day on the island I went to a spot that a local told me about that’s not on the tourist maps. It’s a point of land that juts out into the sound and is sacred land to the Lummi Tribe. Like all the hikes I did in my three days, I was completely alone with nature. I followed the faint trail, breaking spider webs, through the brush until I found groves of madrones. It was a special place, quintessentially northwest. As I turned back to my car and the 12:10 Ferry, I stopped and thanked the spirits of the land. It felt right.