Going to TEXAS!

This was the last frame that Steve and I built over the weekend.  It is gigantic!  It will be part of a major installation that is planned for spring 2022!  Yet, it wasn't the only thing done over the past two days.  I was quite busy packing for a month-long art residency at Guadalupe Mountains National Park in western Texas.  This was an opportunity awarded in 2020, postponed twice, but is finally happening!

My public program will happen Friday - Sunday over Labor Day weekend.  What will I be doing?  Well ... I'll be helping visitors trace and cut-out their hand prints on found fabric (previously backed with heat-activated adhesive) and iron them on to a large selection of vintage household linens.  There will be a clothesline and conversations about energy conservation.  It is during Wilderness Week ... so we will also be talking about how laundry would have been done by pioneers.  I can't wait to do all this and to hike new trails!  My plan is to be blogging from Texas ... so check back here!
 

Once and Again: Alterations at Central Piedmont Community College

(Above:  Once and Again: Alterations, my solo show in the Overcash Gallery on the Central Piedmont Community College campus in Charlotte, NC.)

That's all I've got!  Seriously!  I don't have any other photos and I didn't take this one either!  Why?  Well, this is my first time working with a curator/professional art installer who actually selected the pieces, decided on placement, and had a team of three student interns working on the installation day.  

I sent a proposal. It was accepted. A Drop Box folder was created listing available work ... including titles, dates, sizes, and prices.  The work was selected and ...

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(Above:  Mock-up of the exhibition.)

... a mock-up of the show was sent to me.  It wasn't at all how I would have approached the show!  In fact, the addition of the two Anonymous Ancestors Sculptural Garments came from the other, unsuccessful proposal I sent!  In my limited way of seeing my own artwork, I really didn't consider these garments part of Once and Again: Alterations ... but they are!  They certainly were "altered".  I treated them as "found objects".  I realized that I have been compartmentalizing my own work instead of seeing the common thread that ties everything together!

(Above:  Amelia Zytka, Gallery Director, instructing one of three interns who hung the show.)

Sure ... I could have made suggestions, changed things around, added more work, or insisted on doing things "my way". But why?  This was my opportunity to see my work through the eyes of a true professional.  It was a way to trust someone who honestly knows the space, the audience, and the venue's mission far better than me.  It was also a chance to see a teaching institution in action!

(Above:  Composite image of two signs explaining gallery installation.)

After my artwork was unloaded from my van, the interns received "training".  There were even "lessons" explained on two different signs!  I knew I was in very, very capable hands.  I left before the first piece was on the wall!  On my drive back to Columbia, I thought about artists working at the level where this sort of thing is the norm.  I'm sure that Bisa Butler didn't wield a hammer when installing her current show at the Chicago Institute of Art.  I'm sure that Leslie Dill isn't working in each museum hosting her traveling exhibitions.  It was nice to TRUST someone else, to drive away, and to be treated like a real, professional artist who works on the level of those who I admire!

 

(Above:  The crates in which my found object mandalas were transported.)

It was also nice to have a little extra time that afternoon.  I am, after all, leaving Columbia at dawn on Monday morning.  My month-long art residency at Guadalupe Mountains National Park starts on Wednesday.  It's a long trip and I have a lot of packing to do this weekend!

I will be returning to the Overcash Gallery and my solo show on Tuesday, September 21st.  At 1:00 PM I'll be giving my artist talk.  It is followed by a public reception from 4 - 6.

The Guest Book from The Big Day

(Above: The Guest Book at The Big Day, my solo show at the Pickens County Museum of Art and History.  Click on the image to enlarge.)

Ever since The Big Day closed, I've been meaning to sit down and read the comments written in the guest book but time sort of got away from me.  From the start, I intended not only to read the comments but to blog about some of them.  It was to be my way of sharing the show with those who donated wedding gowns.  Well ... today is the day!

To back up a bit, The Big Day is my solo show marking Steve and my 40th anniversary.  It was installed at the Pickens County Museum of Art and History from May 11 - July 23, 2021.  A video of it is HERE.  I created the guest book back in April.  Click HERE to read the blog post. 

The guest book was made from a  vintage photo album.  Years ago, I used xylene to transfer photocopies of my digital cemetery angels onto printmaking paper. I made more than enough. The "leftovers" became the pages for the guest book.  On these pages, I zigzag stitched donated index cards.  They aren't ordinary index cards but a filing system used by a mid-century bride from a prominent Mississippi family.  I hoped people would use the guest book, write a comment, sign their names ... anything!  Well ... several did.  Below are some of the many inscriptions.  I've omitted the names simply because I didn't state that I would be publicly sharing anything!

May 26th. I was married at Mt. Grove Baptist Church on 12/27 (same date as my daughter) and same church location. Red poinsettias for me. Christmas kinda wedding. Groomsmen were all in uniform.

June 4th. Beautiful! Luv it!

June 15th. The dresses are by FAR beautiful and the quotes are the BEST. LOL! Never get married. Stay free forever!!

Thank you, Susan! Lovely to see my mother's dress and stitched veil. "I do; I don't" sums the whole business up! The selfies are a riot!

June 15th. My husband and I eloped. I never had my dream wedding. He died before we could renew our vows. 10 years later, waiting for another chance @ LOVE.

June 20th. Susan, you've nailed it again! What a treat to see this show with all these Rensings! Love and Admiration. (Not written ... but important for the understanding of this comment: The Rensing Center is a nearby art residency and the place I stayed when installing the show.)

July 16th. We came from Albany, GA. I found my prince 48 years ago - married 42 years. Wonderful exhibit! Thank you, Susan, for showcasing the beautiful gowns. Such a creative presentation.

Unmarried but loved. From New York

(Two signatures in the handwriting of children) Comment from their mother: Not married yet but both hope they find their prince one day.

(Another signature in the handwriting of a child) along with: This creeps me out

July 22nd. Beautiful. Touching. Thank you.

Otherwise, there were more signatures.  I'm so happy that people did write in the guest book.

Now, to update the exhibition. The Big Day will be my submission for ArtFields 2022.  There's no guarantee that it will be accepted but it can't go to Lake City for this event unless I apply.  Applications will be accepted from September 1 - November 1.  I likely will not know if The Big Day gets this opportunity until mid-December. Fingers and toes are crossed.

Thank you ... to everyone who donated a gown, visited the show, signed the guestbook, looked at the video or followed this journey!

 

One-Offs

(Above:  Chosen Ones. Framed: 23" x 19".  Mixed media:  Screen printed image of a west African mask on a densely hand and machine embroidered background with a 2-ply gold metallic halo embellished with square cut nails and beads. Small cross.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

Last week I was contacted by a representative at Bullets and Bandaids for an upcoming fund raiser. They wanted to know whether I'd create an artwork based on a story about a veteran or survivor of war. Volunteer writers had already interviewed the subjects and written rough drafts of the stories. I wouldn't be picking the writer, the story, or the subject of the story but I would be receiving $100 to help defray the expenses. It all sounded intriguing.  It was certainly for a good cause ... so I agreed.

I sort of assumed I would be assigned a man or woman who served my country.  I was wrong!  The story I received was about a starving, eight year old boy and his mother struggling for life during the Liberia civil war.  It was horrific.  The two were turned away from a church giving handfuls of rice to the hungry ... simply because they were not from the chosen tribe. Later, they passed the church and saw "the chosen" murdered by another rebel faction.  War is hell.  The story was titled "Chosen Ones."

It did not take me long to find screen prints I'd once made (2007).  The image came from a west African mask I'd photographed years ago.  I fused it to canvas and cut the mask away from the rest of the decorative paper.  I also found a very early 2D piece of hand and machine embroidery (2003).  In the center was an antique engraving of Apollo on his chariot, but I covered that up.  The texture and color seemed perfect.  After cutting a piece of 2-ply metallic gold mat board, I had a halo.  My stash of found objects includes plenty of square cut nails.  The piece came together inside of one afternoon. 

(Above:  Please Vaccinate.  Altered antique oil painting. Framed: 16 1/2" x 20 1/2".  Altered with anonymous antique photos and hand embroidery.)

I've been told that pieces like Chosen Ones are "one-offs".  I've never really liked the term. It sounds as if the artwork wasn't up to snuff, was second rate, or somehow didn't live up to the artist's expectations.  Yet ... here's a definition:  One-off, noun, something done, made, or happening only once, not as part of a regular sequence.  Actually, one-offs just might be more unique than artwork that is predetermined to be part of a series.  I'm hopeful that is the case ... because ... I seem to thrive on one-offs.  For me, the departure from an established series is invigorating and helpful in the continuation of the series.  Also, it seems to widen the scope of the series.

This coming Friday I'm delivering my solo show Once and Again: Alterations to the Overcash Gallery on the Piedmont Community College campus in Charlotte, North Carolina.  It is the first time I haven't been the one crafting the exhibit.  The curator made the selection of the pieces from a list of available work.  She even requested two pieces from my show Anonymous Ancestors.  They weren't even on the list!  She sent a mock-up of the exhibition's layout!  She sees the thread running through all my work, whether part of one series or another.  She seems to understand that one of my driving forces is the satisfaction of "giving new life to old, neglected things".  So ... perhaps my found object mandalas is "a series" but perhaps the more important series is larger than that.  Perhaps all my one-offs are part of my series of "transformations" ... anything that was neglected but used for a new expression.

If so, Please Vaccinate is simply another transformation.  Perhaps, it is also a one-off.  It really doesn't matter to me ... because it is saying something I feel strongly about!  I got the little oil painting at Bill Mishoe's auction.  It came with several other framed pieces.  I bought them because there was another piece in the stack that I wanted.  (I got an early Suzy Scarborough encaustic!  I adore Suzy's work. I got it for an obscenely low price. I am thrilled.)  I had no idea what to do with the oil painting but it occurred to me that it had survived for decades ... through smallpox and influenza and the polio epidemic. With nothing to lose and absolutely no money in the materials, I found five anonymous photographs which I'd already fused to muslin.  I cut them and started stitching.  While stitching, I refined the words and decided that they should be done in wrapped back-stitch. The words were printed on regular paper.  I stitched directly through the paper and then tore the paper away.   

(Above:  Please Vaccinate, in progress ... being re-lined.)

As I stitched, the oil painting naturally slackened on its wooden stretcher bar.  I also knew that I would need to remove it from the stretcher bar in order to finish the stitching on both far sides.  The stretcher bar was otherwise "in the way".  In order to re-stretch the oil painting, I had to re-line it by gluing the canvas to a new piece of canvas.  Thankfully, I own the proper, acid-free, water-soluble glue and a Seal press to totally fuse the two layers together.  Using my canvas pliers, the piece was quickly back on its original stretcher bar and back in its original frame.

(Above:  Please Vaccinate, detail.)

In the statement for my upcoming show, I mention how my alterations of old things are done for new expression.  If this isn't a perfect example ... even if it is a one-off ... I don't know what is!

(Above:  La Sylphide, an altered lithograph.)

I didn't create La Slyphide this past week.  I threw it together sometime last month and then forgot about it.  (Maybe this is a true one-off!) Maybe I forgot because it really doesn't altered the sad story of La Slyphide.  I just added letters clipped from antique ephemera to point out that "not all fairy tales end well."  This one doesn't.  

Yes, I got the frame and the lithograph from Bill Mishoe's auction.  Like the oil painting, neither was something I wanted.  They just came with things I knew would work for some of my found object mandalas.  There was an old Bible too.  Between some of the pages were the pressed flowers.  I used water soluble pencils to add color to the otherwise black-and-white lithograph. I created this piece one day while cutting mats for customer orders.  Sometimes, it is the little things that just keep the routine/series going!
 

Mandala LXXVI and Mandala LXXVII

(Above:  Mandala LXXVI. Framed and hung as a diamond: 20" x 20"; as a square: 14 1/4" x 14 1/4".  Found objects hand-stitched to a block from an antique quilt. Found objects include: Vintage, circular View-Master like slide reel; shower curtain hooks; English copper pennies; blue water bottle caps; sewing machine bobbins; cotter pins; faux coin dangles; brass screw eyes; vintage capacitors; buttons;  and two parts of a Department of Commerce award (the palmetto tree/crescent moon charms and the hanging device with the word "commerce".  Click on any image to enlarge.)

This small mandala was inspired by a generous donation to my found object stash.  A friend who is retiring from the local Sonoco Recycling company dropped by an entire box full of little, gold boxes.  Inside were pins from the South Carolina Department of Commerce.  For some reason, this government agency didn't need as many as they once ordered. They gave them to my friend at the recycling center who then passed them on to me. 

(Above:  One of about sixty pins from the Department of Commerce.)

As pins, they didn't appeal to me but I couldn't resist the palmetto tree/crescent moon charm.  It's our state symbol.  It would be simple to stitch in place.  As I took them apart, I noticed the ribbon's hanging device with the word "commerce".  I saved these.  The boxes also had cute little hinges, the sort with prongs that puncture the cardboard.  I kept them too.  I'm sure these items will make future appearances on new mandalas!

 

(Above:  Mandala LXXVII. Framed and hung as a square: 27 3/8" x 27 3/8"; as a diamond: 38 3/4" x 38 3/4".  Found objects hand-stitched to a section of vintage utilitarian quilt.  Found objects include: A part of a vintage sconce light fixture that included hanging prisms; seven carved wooden napkin rings featuring wild animals; lots of plastic toy animals; blue casino chips; red, vintage Cosby whisky swizzles featuring parrots; keys; laminated Tampa Nugget cigar bands; hangers for metal picture frames; Nespresso coffee capsules; buttons; flat bone beads; plastic gold beads; and green African sea glass beads.)

Mandala LXXVII was inspired by the wooden napkin rings.  The carved wild animals reminded me of souvenirs from Kenya.  I was lucky enough to have visited this exotic country in both 1970 and 1974.  As a kid, I just adored seeing animals in the safari parks and as wooden tourist trinkets sold by the side of the road.  They seemed a perfect pairing with the plastic animals I got at Bill Mishoe's auction over a month ago.  It was fun stitching down this menagerie. 

 

(Above:  Detail of Mandala LXXVI.)

I stitched the center of this piece before determining any of the corners or edges.  While stitching, I remembered having a string of green African sea glass beads.  I have been saving them "for something special".  I've been saving them for so long that I almost forgot where they were, but I found them, counted them, and figured out a way for all but two to become the edge of this mandala.

 

(Above:  Detail of Mandala LXXVI.)

I'm already at work on the next mandala and have several others mentally in the works.  I really ought to plan using more of my casino chips.  I have dozens and dozens of them.  Yet, inspiration comes in different forms.  Sometimes, the quantity inspires; sometimes having just a few things inspires. 

Beverly "Guitar" Watkins, a portrait by Susan Lenz

(Above:  Beverly "Guitar" Watkins.  Framed: 32" x 31".  Image transfer and paint on a section of a vintage blue-and-white needlepoint rug with black beer caps and beads, tacks, and a name plate.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

Sometimes I just can't help myself when attending Bill Mishoe's auction.  I will leave a six-dollar/minimum "mercy bid" for items I don't need and for which I have no use and no brilliant ideas.  Such was the situation with a very large, extremely heavy, well worn blue-and-white needlepoint rug.

(Above:  The blue-and-white needlepoint rug on top of my dry mount press.)

Some one stitched it ... BEAUTIFULLY.   I don't know who. I don't know why the family consigned it to the auction house.  It was as if this rug came from Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer's Island of Misfit Toys ... neglected, unloved, cast away, holding stories of an anonymous family and a once perfect living room, almost begging for "someone" to take it home and give it a "second life".  How could I help myself?  Of course I left a six-dollar bid.  The rug was then mine.

(Above:  Ernie the Cat and the rug.)

Even Ernie the Cat seemed to know that the rug was in a "better place" ... though he had no helpful ideas for how I might incorporate it into my studio practice.  The rug sat around for more than two months before I finally cut it into the twelve, nearly square sections that made up its design.  I took the twelve pieces to my two-week art residency at the Rensing Center where I used an entire gallon of GAC 400 Fabric Stiffener on the twelve pieces.  Sure ... I was mentally chastising myself for the expenditure.  I'd just poured over $80 of an acrylic medium over a six-dollar mercy bid and still had no idea how I was going to use any of it. I had to trust my "bleeding heart".  Something would come along to make sense out of all this!  

(Above:  Photo of Beverly Watkins by Bill Blizard.)

Well ... something did happen! When it did, I knew in an instant exactly what to do and how to do it!  My friend Dolly Patton, the new executive director of the Arts Center of Kershaw County, contacted me for a solo show!  It seems that the visual arts exhibition space needed a show to coordinate with the annual and upcoming Carolina Downhome Blues Festival in Camden, South Carolina.  Dolly asked if I would bring one of my first installations, Blues Chapel, to the Arts Center.   Of course I would!  

(Above:  Two steps in the Photoshop manipulation of the image.)

There was a caveat: The show needed to pay homage to one of the festival's most important, previous performers ... Beverly "Guitar" Watkins.  Thankfully, Dolly had already secured permission and a high resolution image from photographer Bill Blizard.  I went to work immediately ... eliminating the background ... sizing the image for the needlepoint rug, applying the "cutout" filter, and flipping the result so that it would appear correctly when transferred to the needlepoint surface.

(Above:  The black-and-white photocopy lathered with matte medium and positioned onto the needlepoint rug ... which was also coated with additional matte medium.)

Even though the Photoshop work took less than an hour, the preparation of the rug took a week.  Every day, I brushed on a new layer of acrylic medium.  Some days, I managed two coats.  In all, at least nine layers of matte medium went onto the stiffened section of rug.  The layers of matte medium built up the surface into a nice, flat, evenly spread plane ... perfect for an acrylic-to-acrylic photocopy transfer.  Both the over-sized print and the rug were finally covered with matte medium and pressed together.  When totally dry, I also flattened it in my dry mount press.  This made sure that there were no bubbles between the layers.  The ink was fused into the acrylic.

(Above:  Starting to rub off the excess paper.)

Then the fun began!  All the excess paper was rubbed off.  While this might sound ideal, the results rarely are perfect.  Some of the ink does come away with the paper.  Some of the gray tones didn't show up well against the needlepoint.  Yet, it was enough of a transfer to allow me to over-paint the entire figure in black and shades of gray.  Then, I added the gold metallic halo.  This halo was also part of the Arts Center's request because all twenty-four of my Blues singers in Blues Chapel do have gold halos.  To me, the halo is a symbol for the disadvantages faced by female blues singers:  racism, sexism, and a once disreputable music industry.  Yet ... they kept singing and sharing and making a better future for the next generation.

(Above:  Beverly "Guitar" Watkins, in progress.)

After applying the halo, I beaded the rim and added accents, black beer caps on which I placed silver star sequins and another bead.  Finally, the piece was ready for its unique presentation.  I painted a wide stretcher bar black and filled it with acid-free foam-centered board.  The artwork was glued in place ...

... and literally tacked to the wooden stretcher bar.  

 (Above:  Detail of Beverly "Guitar" Watkins.)

I am very, very pleased about this piece.  It fulfilled the unknown reason for buying the needlepoint rug in the first place.  It is honoring a Blues icon.  It will be in a show this coming October!  I still have no idea what will become of the other eleven pieces of the rug.  Perhaps nothing ... but at least "second life" did happen in a beautiful Bluesy way!

 

Mandala LXXIII and LXXV

(Above:  Mandala LXXIII. Framed: 14 3/4" x 14 3/4. Found objects hand-stitched to a block of an antique quilt.  Found objects include: A clock face, keys, green casino chips, beer bottle caps, plastic dairy pull tabs, clock gears, buttons, and eight discs for a cookie press.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

When I posted Mandala LXXIV, I realized that I missed one in the series.  I had finished, framed, and entered Mandala LXXIII in my inventory book, but I hadn't photographed it or featured it on this blog.  Of course, recent weather didn't cooperate with my photography plans.  I take pictures in the afternoon, when the sun isn't hitting the garage door.  Every time I thought to take pictures, it was raining.  I had to wait ... until today ... when I also had Mandala LXXV ready for its photo shoot.

 

(Above:  Mandala LXXIII, detail.)

I'm really pleased with the casino chips.  I've got lots more of them.  Each one was pre-drilled with five holes, four near the edges and one in the center.  This worked perfectly with the beer caps too.  I'm using a 1/6" drill bit.  I have a small stash of them because it is really easy to accidentally break the bit.

 

(Above:  Mandala LXXV. Framed: 14 3/4" x 14 3/4".  Found objects hand-stitched to a block of an antique quilt.  Found objects include: Part of a rotary dial's receiver; two bracelets; four shower curtain hangers; sewing machine bobbins; red, plastic lids; two gold-toned hinges; Starbucks coffee stirrers; assorted belt buckles; buttons; metal devices from a random, dismantled machine; and laminated, late 19th century, cancelled two-cent stamps.)

For Mandala LXXV, I used my tiny drill bit but only on the four corners of the laminated, late 19th century, cancelled two-cent stamps.  My grip strength is very, very strong with a threaded chenille needle and my fingers have thick calluses, but I still have trouble getting through heavy-duty lamination.  Thus, I drill the holes I need.

(Above:  Mandala LXXV, detail.)

I happen to have a nice collection of these early, cancelled stamps.  They came from Bill Mishoe's auction along with all sorts of other stuff.  Most were still attached to the corner of an early envelop. As a kid, I collected stamps.  I knew exactly how to soak the stamps off the paper and dry them on a pane of glass.  For a couple days, our guest bathroom was occupied with stamps ... and also Green Back stamps!  A friend donated a nice collection of those ... many pasted into the redemption booklets.  I soaked them all off.  I intended to visit FedEx Office to laminate them but I knew it would be rather expensive.  Google to the rescue!  I learned that my Seal Dry Mount press would do the job and that Office Depot sold packages of 125 laminating pouches for less than I once spent on the Tampa Nugget cigar bands I'd been using.  (I was running out of laminated Tampa Nugget cigar bands too, but I have literally thousands that could be laminated.  They were donated by another friend!)

(Above:  Laminated ephemera.)

I am now quite an expert at laminating vintage ephemera.  Of course, I still need to cut all these things out, but I'll do that soon!

Bastille Day, my personal day of creative independence

(Above:  The back of the cargo van filled with things headed to Bill Mishoe's auction.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

Yesterday was Bastille Day, a independence celebration for all of France but also for me!  Twenty years ago on Bastille Day, I finally admitted my hidden desire to "be and artist when I grow up".  I was forty-two years old at the time and running Mouse House, my custom picture framing business (est. 1987).  There were fourteen on payroll (including my husband and me); eight were full-time enjoying covered health insurance, a week paid vacation, and a retirement plan.  Business was still growing at about 11% a year.  I worked fourteen to sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, fifty weeks a year.  Basically,  I was working myself to death.  On that fateful July day, I made a life-changing decision to forcibly down-size the business, get a studio, and transform myself into a professional studio artist despite the fact that I had no prior background in fine arts or crafts.  It was a scary gamble, and there were plenty of times when I thought I'd made the worst decision of my life.  Twenty years later, I am an artist living a creative existence I couldn't fully imagine at the start of this adventure.  Every year, I celebrate Bastille Day and look both backwards and forwards.

(Above:  Celebrating Bastille Day at the Blue Marlin!) 

This year, Steve and I decided to celebrate Bastille Day with dinner at a local restaurant, The Blue Marlin.  We talked some about 2001 but we talked more about the coming twenty years ... or at least the next couple of months!  Why concentrate on the future?  Well ... change is happening again and we've been preparing for it.  I have three very, very large projects for a hotel that is currently under construction.  The work needs to be stored until it can be installed.  Looking around Mouse House, it only made sense to sort through a back room in which I store things bought at Bill Mishoe's auction for various art ideas.  I had to face the fact that I'm passed the phase during which I rusted vintage garments and other fabric.  I don't really need to keep boxes of rusted saw blades and chains.  I don't need several cast iron pots with lids.  I also don't need five tree stumps once used as "natural pedestals" for an early "sacred circle" installation or several tubs of wooden finials and knob for 3D found object sculptures.  The collection of antique and vintage papers was way out of control too.  For several days, I sorted, fondly remembered the inspiration, and hauled things to the cargo van.  It was bittersweet to unload it all at Bill Mishoe's auction ... but I did it!  I did it with excited anticipation for the next twenty years.

(Above:  One of the many mountains of scrap metal at Mid-Carolina Steel and Recycling.)

No one ever said that being a flea market and/or antique dealer was an easy life.  I sweat buckets loading and unloading my cargo van but not as much as I sweat while recycling the scrap metal! Emotionally, I told myself that I had to clear a space so that new work could happen.  There's an adage that filled my mind:  Every ending is a new beginning.  Although I can always return to any of my old ways of working, I've created space for whatever is going to happen next ... even beyond the hotel projects!

(Above:  An early architectural piece made for my very first solo show which was at Spartanburg Day School, January - February 2004.)

During the late afternoon, I couldn't help but notice an older piece pinned to foam-centered board.  It seemed to be calling to me, asking to be transformed, saying it was ready for "a new life".  I unpinned it and saw that the reverse side was now more pleasing to me than the front had ever been!

(Above:  The reverse side of the old architectural piece.)

Back in 2003 when I stitched this thing, I used peach colored moire instead of batting.  It looked good with the black chiffon over it.  For the reverse, I had a piece of faux dupioni white silk.  Apparently, I used bobbins filled randomly with tan, pale green, brown, and black thread.  Quickly, I cut the piece into three 20" x 14" sections, machine stitched my name in the lower right corners, cut mats, and put them in clear, cellophane bags with $50 price tags on the reverse. There's enough scrap for a dozen greeting cards.  It felt productive and fun to find a new outlook on the back of an old piece!

(Above:  Three Architectural Sketches.)

Finally, I'd like to share a little more about Bastille Day.  CLICK HERE for a published essay called My Mentor.  I wrote it eleven years ago about Stephen Chesley, a self supporting impressionistic landscape painter who is still my mentor.  Yet, the essay is really about my artistic beginning, about my first Bastille Day and the early days of "being an artist when I grow up".  When conducting a HOT workshop, I always say that my introduction will come as the last part of the experience ... because, of course ... I'm not fond of lofty introductions and generally prefer to do most things backwards.  Yet, it is also because the final statement is exactly how I want to leave each workshop!  So ... here's to Bastille Day and the continuing adventures of being the artist I've become! 
 

Mandala LXXIV

(Above:  Mandala LXXIV.  Framed as a diamond: 53 1/4" x 53 1/4", as a square: 37 5/8" x 37 5/8".  Found objects hand-stitched to a four-block section of a vintage quilt.  Found objects include:  A silver trivet; doll faces; The Fall Guy action figures from the 1980s; insulin syringes and their gray, plastic caps; laminated Tampa Nugget cigar bands, plastic combs; film reels; colorful, plastic gear-shaped toys; two different types of shower curtains and four yellow ducks removed from a third set; sewing machine bobbins; yellow hair curlers; brass drapery rings; Nespresso coffee capsules; blue water bottle lids; brown plastic Polynesia drink swizzlers; brass screw eyes; US flag and Arizona flag beer bottle caps; and lots of buttons.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

Mandala LXXIV is the largest piece to date.  With any luck, there will be three more this size.  The vintage quilt had exactly eight blocks in both direction and was cut evenly into four squares.  Working larger required me to really concentrate on using a few larger items ... like the film reels.  If everything had been informally smaller, the whole might look somewhat busy.  Balance is needed for color and arrangement but also for size!

(Above:  Detail of Mandala LXXIV.)

The larger size also meant that more than more curve was possible without losing the composition.  Yet, I started to run out of the laminated Tampa Nugget cigar bands that created some of these curves.  So, this weekend I learned all about laminating using my Seal dry mount press.  The earlier cigar bands were laminated at FedEx Office ... to the turn of about five dollars per letter sized pouch.  I happen to have literally thousands more.  I can officially claim to now be a laminating expert!  A package of 125 laminating pouches at Office Depot set me back just $33.  I spent Sunday laminating all sort of other things.  So, don't be surprised when vintage Green Back stamps and late 19th century postal stamps start showing up on future mandalas!  Laminating is fun!

(Above:  Items from a table lot purchased at Bill Mishoe's auction.)

One of my earlier mandalas has the toy NASA space shuttles on it and a small mandala has four of the red motorcycles, but I got more cool toys in a box from Bill Mishoe's auction ... including the Fall Guy action figures from the 1980s and the doll faces!  One day, I'll figure out how to use the little tractors!

 

(Above:  Detail of Mandala LXXIV.)

While writing this blog post, I realized that I forgot to post Mandala LXXIII.  I didn't even take photos of it!  Perhaps tomorrow!

 

Lunette XXXVI

(Above:  Lunette XXXVI. Framed: 28" x 22"; unframed: 16" x 22". Layers of fused polyester stretch on recycled synthetic felt with self-guided, free-motion machine embroidery and melting techniques.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

Whether in my booth at an art show or as a comment left on social media, I'm frequently asked, "How long does it take you to make one of these pieces".  I don't know.  I've never really known and can't even figure out how to calculate the time spent.  There really isn't a good answer.

(Above: Lunette XXXVI, detail.)

One of the problems for adding up hours is the fact that there's plenty of prep work for this series.  I buy polyester stretch velvet from local fabric stores and two different on-line shops in NYC's fashion district.  Every time I get new yardage, I iron Wonder Under to the reverse side.  Sometimes this takes a whole day (at least when a box comes from Spandex World!  I generally order at least ten different yards!)  Another problem is the fact that I'll prepare several "bases" of synthetic felt at one time.  The felt is recycled packaging material that once protected a kayak or canoe being shipped to my friend's outdoor store.  If I'm going to cut up one "boat", I'll cut it up into lots of bases ... some for Lunette Window and others for large or small "Stained Glass" pieces or for three sizes in my "In Box" series.  Basically, I'll cut up the entire "boat". Some times this takes two hours or more.  How can I add the prep time to the individual piece?

(Above:  Lunette XXXVI, detail.)

Finally, there's another problem.  I am rarely ever working on just one piece.  After all, these polyester stretch velvet shapes are all hand-cut.  If I cut up a blue square that is too small of one piece, it is likely perfect on another piece.  So ... I have more than one going at a time.  This makes it impossible to know how much time is spent on any one piece.  I don't know how long this Lunette took to make ... because it was in progress along with the once finished last week. I do know, however, that I'm really pleased with how both of them turned out!
 

In Box CCCLXXXIX, inspired by Barcelona

(Above:  In Box CCCLXXXIX, detail. Framed: 24" x 20"; unframed 16" x 12". $375 plus tax and shipping.  Layers of polyester stretch velvet on recycled, black industrial felt with hand stitching and melting techniques.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

Several weekends ago, Steve and I visited Tallulah Falls in Georgia, spent the night in Sylva, NC, and delivered artwork to the Grovewood Gallery in Asheville.  While riding in the van, I hand stitched an In Box piece very similar to this one.  Generally, I only create one of these colorful artworks while on a road trip.  Well ... we went to Smithville, Tennessee to collect my solo show Last Words.  The exhibit at the Appalachian Center for Craft had come to an end.  Going there and back was an opportunity hand stitched another one!  

(Above:  In Box CCCLXXXIX.)

Although this one might look similar to other hand-stitched In Box Series pieces, this one felt different.  The reason was simple!  The last one was sold to a wonderful woman who saw in it an aerial view of Barcelona!  Now ... it isn't unusual for one to see an aerial view; it is an important part of my original concept! I've always and intentionally meant for my In Box Series to be aerial views of an imaginary Friedensreich Hundertwasser city.  The colorful palette, the lack of a perfectly straight line, and the individual motifs in each "box" have always been my way of interpreting Hundertwasser's palette, his dislike for straight lines, and his emphasis on individualism. Next November when I'm in my booth at the Philadelphia Museum of Art Craft Show, I will tell interested people all about Hundertwasser.  Dozens upon dozens of times I will explain that my In Box Series is meant to be an aerial view.  Yet, until the fine lady showed me an aerial photo of Barcelona, I never knew just how much this fabulous Catalan city looks like my artwork! 

 

(Above:  Aerial view of Barcelona.) 

On our recent trip, Steve and I reminisced about our trip to Barcelona, about architect Antoni Gaudi, and the frequent references between Gaudi and Hundertwasser with regards to their use of mosaics and their contributions to their country's architectural style and aesthetics.  When we went to Barcelona, I had hoped to find inspiration in Gaudi's buildings.  I was overwhelmed, awed, and spiritually moved but I didn't think I found any new inspiration.  Perhaps ... that's because it was already in my work!  Perhaps I just didn't know it!