Posts Tagged ‘documentation’

For The Record

Wednesday, January 22nd, 2025

Every year SAQA calls for applications from art quilters who wish to work with a mentor to guide their development in some aspect of their art quilt practice towards a self identified goal, and a new mentoring year is just underway. For several years now, I’ve volunteered to mentor someone, because it’s one of the several ways that I can contribute to the organisation, and as a mentee progresses towards their goals it gives me satisfaction, too.

I haven’t always found it completely rewarding, though: my first mentee just faded off into the distance around June, without announcing to me, or SAQA, that she was quitting for any reason – suddenly there was just silence, which left me feeling a bit of a failure. The following year my allocated mentee asked for another mentor! which was actually quite a relief, as she was difficult and I think had unrealistic expectations about her committment. The next one, who was really doing very well, suddenly got totally snowed under by an avalanche of adult children’s needs, and though she said ‘I’ll get back to you when things calm down.’, for all I know she is still struggling with all that, because I never heard from her again. Perhaps she had to realign her priorities permanently.

In the past couple of years I’ve had very rewarding mentorships, with women who were articulate and understood their strong motivations; and each consistently worked on their goals during each of our times together. My new mentee and I do not yet know each other beyond the facts on her application form and whatever she read on my volunteer form, the details of which I now don’t remember exactly. I’m sure it will be an interesting year as she sounds articulate, realistic and motivated.

Although I am a former teacher, it is not a teaching position, it’s more one of directing the mentee where to look for the information or technical learning they identify they want/need, of responding with critique when asked, and sharing experience about things like writing artist statements, or some things to do in their studio practice that could help in some way.

Volunteer members contribute by sharing experience, support and advice to fellow members who’ve identified one or several areas of their art practice which they wish to develop, and I’ve found the most frequently expressed goal is wanting to find their own unique ‘voice’. This is more than just developing a particular ‘style’ though. An artist speaks through her work, and developing her own voice involves thinking about personal things, motivations and inspirations, and on developing understanding about whatever it is that the artist holds strong views about, or is deeply interested in. It’s a path of discovery which, once you’re on it, always suggests new steps to take, keeping you moving forward…. and this is a large part of why I write my blog. As my artist’s diary, my posts here record my thinking and that’s part of the documentation of my body of work.

I recently suggested to someone struggling with all this that perhaps it would be a good idea to start a new Word.doc for each new work. I suggested she write in it without any intent to publish anywhere, but to use it to give a frame of reference, a skeleton for more thought about where her work is heading, adding into it any thoughts about why she wants design this work, the technique options, emerging title ideas, lists of relevant words, phrases and possible quotes; research links to facts, a picture or two or work in progress; a sentence on what’s on her mind as she works. From now on this will be one of my key recommendations to anyone who asks for help finding their voice.

My current new work is yet another with a grid layout. I’ve said before that grids really appeal to me, and although I attribute that to enduring influence from my brief immersion in the world of traditional geometric patchwork, and could declare QED, I am currently thinking more deeply about ‘grids’ as in my previous post.

Browsing in Pinterest just now, I came across some really interesting surface design grids in varous media and pinned several. This one instantly reminded me of the wonderful heavily stitched cross hatched lines on layers of fabric by Irish textile artist Patricia Kelly, whose website I visited. Although I wasn’t surprised at all her wonderful portfolio, what stood out to me was that while I’ve been closely following her work there and on Instagram I’ve become very influenced by certain technical characteristics and begun to embrace them in my own, like irregularity of all kinds including hanging threads and rough, unfinished, and torn edges. These are not the sole preserve of Kelly’s work, of course, but seeing it all displayed together made me aware of how close I could get to ‘style copying’ without realising it. However, on reflection, I realised that such characteristics appear in the works of so many of the textile artists whose work I currently admire most, including Anita Romano, Shelley Rhodes, Cas Holmes, Dorothy Caldwell, Roberta Wagner, Rieko Koga and more. Without claiming equal celebrity status with such well known names, it is clear we and many others are part of a strong current trend in contemporary hand stitched art in which all kinds of lines, shapes and textures, frequently unruly or suggesting incompetence, are used to produce our artistic statements, unlike the pursuit of the highst standards of technical excellence most prized in the world of traditional embroideries.

Documentation

Thursday, July 13th, 2023

In 1978, I attended a wonderful 8-day summer school / symposium at a conference centre at Goolwa, South Australia. It was organised by a group of very experimental stitchers within the South Australian Embroiderers’ Guild, who then went on to publish a wonderful book about the ideas and techniques they’d taught us. We were taught by a team of three highly qualified embroiders a couple of whom were academics in tertiary art or textile art schools. That amazing workshop had a huge ongoing impact on my fibreart, and in the next decade I combined paint with stitch, embroidering my impressions of the landscape around me.

A slide from a recent presentation, this symposium was hugely influential on my textile art, though shortly after I made this gold nugget for a Community project quilt in Kalgoorlie Western Australia, we moved to the USA where I learned the basics of traditional American geometric patchwork and quilting, which led me down a completely different path!

“Distant Shores” 1985, ~100cm x 130cm. In reality this was my first art quilt, but as ‘a creative embroiderer’ I termed this a wall hanging, until several years later.

My only traditional quilt, a Flying Geese design, was begun in a symposium workshop with the then doyenne of Flying Geese, and author of a book on the subject, Blanche Young. This is an awful photo!! The question is, why was I in such a hurry that I couldn’t take a decent one? However, the wall quilt’s storage at the moment, so this will have to do.

Flying Geese wall quilt, 36″ x 72″, 1988.

In 1987 I was invited to exhibit my fibreart interpretations of landscape. As I prepared for that exhibition, someone advised me to have everything photographed for my record – which was sound advice, although the choice of photographers for hire in the mining town where we lived at the time was limited – between a wedding/portrait photographer and another whose day job was the official company photographer for the biggest mining company in the region.  It didn’t occur to me to ask Murray to photograph my art against a plain neutral background – and so everything was photographed against a rather nasty bare brick wall… which in my innocence I saw nothing wrong with!  But bless him, Murray’s lighting and focus were excellent, and at least I had a 35mm slide record of my work!  I’ve had a few of those slide images digitised, including this one, cropped to eliminate that brick wall 🙂 

Soon after we arrived to live in Denver CO for a short time, a new neighbour took me along to her local quilt guild which I immediately joined and began learning traditional geometric patchwork and quilting.  I took some construction classes and joined quilting bee for the cultural experience, which turned out to be the hardest group I’ve ever had to leave, anywhere, as the ‘short time’ durned into seven years. I made just one traditional wall quilt, of the flying geese design, and began to design my own non-traditional quilts a year later.

Way back in my early art quilt making days probably 1991 or 1992, I attended a monthly meeting of the Front Range Contemporary Quilters group at Boulder CO. The guest speaker, Patsy Allen of North Carolina, was a well known at quilter in the early 90s, having appeared in some of the earliest Quilt Nationals. Her slide lecture covered her portfolio of work produced over 10-15 years, showing that while her techniques and designs changed over that time, certain recognisable elements were present in every design. It was interesting to see how some elements became more prominent over time, and others became less significant, but their presence gave identifiable continuity through all her work. Like many other prominent art quilt makers, she advised us to always take as good photos of our work as our tech skills or means allow, and recommended occasionally reviewing our art in chronological order, looking for patterns of continuity and thinking about what inspires and influences us.

I recently gave a virtual lecture on the influences in my own works over the decades I’ve been making and exhibiting textile art.  Of course, my techniques, materials and the focus of landscape’s influences have varied over time, but to put the talk together was enlightening. I do occasionally review my art in more-or-less chronological order every few years, and sometimes find an angle I never considered before.  A couple of interesting questions from my audience after the lecture prompted further thought, too.

These days with digital cameras and phones, it’s easy to take progress photos of what we’re doing, though I only publish a few of them in my blog or on my social media sites.  Taking pics of works in process encourages me to regularly review my general artist statement, possibly my bio, and write a brief statement, at least a sentence, about every work as I finish it, while my thinking on it is fresh in my mind. 

My regular readers already know that this blog, the nearest I’ll ever come to an artist’s diary, is one line of documentation about my fibreart. My other documentation is a list of titles, dimensions, year completed, and like any list it’s a fairly dry or sterile document that I an quickly look up if I’m writing or answering a query. I what I call an illustrated catalogue, with an image of the work plus title, year, dimensions and availability or location of each work. I really should expand this to include a statement about it and the major points of it’s history – exhibition, sale etc…. but right now I am working on something that is starting to pull me upstairs to my sewing room, so I’ll deal with that another day.

Discovering A Long Forgotten Work

Tuesday, April 18th, 2017

This morning by chance I found a photo of a long forgotten quilt from 2006-2008:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Also in the file I found a photo of half of it mounted in a frame – so clearly I had chopped it down and sold or given the pieces away, which I don’t remember just now; but whatever happened to those, I might have been a bit hasty in chopping it down 🙂 as I now really like it …  It’s from an era in which I applied a lot of leather pieces to quilts, the best known of which, Timetracks 1″, middle lower row, was in Quilt National 07.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Many feature holes punched through leather units as part of the design, but these myriads of little holes are out of the question now given the arthritis in my hands.  The detail uppper left is Timetracks 3, one of several I made using leather for this repeat unit I have so often used. In my mind it’s a bare-bones diagram of erosion at work, one that has become important to me as the umbrella metaphor for passage of time change in all of Life itself. Interestingly there were also work-in-progress pics with my untitled discovery, so I include these partly as a belated documentation effort, but also to remind you of how my embroidery informs much of what I do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I love stitch constructions on detached warps – aka needleweaving, and in 2007 blogged about these two pieces, Behind the Scenes 1 & 2,  from 1987.

 

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