Showing posts with label art quilts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art quilts. Show all posts

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Mapping My Los Angeles by Reconstructing the Thomas Guide

Three years ago, I moved from LA after almost a decade there. Life in LA entailed long, traffic-heavy, and intense drives, but also many opportunities to walk for pleasure or errands. I was fortunate to live in Silverlake, a neighborhood where I could walk to most of the shops: Trader Joe's and Mayfair, a health food store, a post pack and ship, hardware and art supply, Video Journeys, movie theaters, boutiques, restaurants, bars and even a yoga studio. Most weekends I could usually park my car and not drive at all, unless to visit far-flung friends. Most friends were far-flung because we were all driving long distances to get to our school or work or other places where we might have originally met. On average, most people I know in LA drive 40 or 50 miles a day, which was true for me as well. However, it's not uncommon for people to drive much longer distances throughout greater LA County.

In the days before GPS technology was as mainstream as now, everyone I knew found her or his way around the city with the
Thomas Guide
, a several hundred page, spiral-bound, street-by-street map of LA. The Thomas Guide opens with a page-size image of LA County with grids and numbers corresponding to the hundreds of close-up maps that follow. I so often used my first 1997 Thomas Guide that the worn and highlighted pages started falling out. I eventually replaced it with a 2002 edition that stayed pretty much intact because, in those 5 years, I'd committed to memory so much of the city that I rarely needed to check for specific streets. When I left LA, I had one very worn and one relatively new book map of Los Angeles.

While living in LA, I began to have the notion of deconstructing and then reconstructing that map of the sprawl. Shortly after leaving, I took apart both Guides and began to stitch them together as a single flat map. My relationship to driving with the Thomas Guide had been page by page, single snapshots of LA streets. I felt curious to see the pages of the book become a single image.

When I stitched together an entire map of LA out of Thomas Guide pages, the end result measured over 8 x 12 feet. Onto that massive map, I began to hand-stitch over roads where I'd walked or driven, using the stitching to represent my footprint and tire-print on the environment. The stitches would record my complicit impact on the landscape. I'd already been stitching walks from memory and knew that I wanted to do something similar with driving, but wasn’t sure exactly what or how. Would I use the sewing machine – trading one machine for another? Hand-embroidery? I wasn't sure.

I paused on the project due to my uncertainty about how to continue, the complications of another move and a new studio with limited wall space. So, I packed the map up in a project box with the intention of picking it up again later when I had sufficient wall space.

Fortunately, that time has arrived! I'll be moving into a new public studio next week (more details later) which will afford me the space and viewing distance to hang the work and complete it. Here's what I have so far:


Walking and Driving in LA (Work in Progress)
paper map, machine stitching, hand stitching, cotton muslin backing
8' x 12'


Walking and Driving in LA (Work in Progress)
detail

This (still unfinished) detail is only 2" by 4" and represents just a few miles. I'm hand-stitching each of the walks (as I remember them) in shades of green embroidery floss. The darker the shade, the more frequently I walked that particular route. Similarly, I'm hand-stitching the drives in red with the darker shades representing the streets and free-ways I traveled most frequently. I'll continue with this process over the entire map.

Unsurprisingly, I'm finding this piece quite a memory exercise. In remembering how much of LA I covered, I'm overwhelmed by the realization that I was only one person in over 10 million – the environmental footprint each person makes in that (or any) city is tremendous. The enormity of the impact is staggering... and I've only just begun the project.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

The City Without Clothes and the 4-year process

For the New Year, I've been doing a major de-stashing -- donating and giving away to fellow artists many fabrics and materials for which I no longer have use. In the process, I've been clearing out some older work as well. Some pieces I'm re-working or mining for materials, others I'm destroying, but many I'm bringing back out into the light of the studio as that's often my process.

I've heard other artists say similar things about their own work -- that from its conception to the final completion, a piece or series often undergoes about a 4-year process. Some ideas are born fully formed, but many need to ferment in a notebook or project box or even sit partially-formed until mature enough to make their way into the world.

Below is one of those works-in-progress that I started while I was still in Los Angeles. It's another in the aerial / psychogeography series. Forgive the dimly lit image.

City Without Clothes (potentials of paradise) work in progress

The materials are velvet, velour and fleece. The colors may be a bit difficult to read in this dim studio image, but they are very vibrant, yet fleshy: reds, golds, purples, browns, pinks and tan.

In the de-stashing, I also brought out small buckets of velvet buttons in some of these colors that I'd like to add to the piece once I get it stitched together on the machine.

A couple of links in reference to the title:

"The Naked City" is Guy Debord's 1957 psychogeographic map of Paris. Here's an interesting English language article with an image of Debord's map (mid-article). The paper proposes contemporary collaborative and digital mapping of usage (rather than the geometry) of urban spaces.

The "Body without Organs" is a deterratorialzing term from Deleuze and Guattari. This Wikipedia entry offers one explanation that's pretty easy to understand.

My work-in-progress is a sort of map to nowhere (as in utopia). It's bodily, bold, joyful and full of hope. It's personal, in that it's potentially everywhere I may have imagined living, but have yet to even visit. It articulates possibilities and parallel lives that have yet to be lived.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Quilt Coincidences

I went to my first meeting of the Smoky Mountain Quilters this weekend. ...lots of talented quilters... and a few odd coincidences.

The first coincidence was that I was invited to the meeting by one of the quiltwriters for this beautiful book on Gee's Bend Quilts right after I'd been studying it for a client who wanted me to create a similar (though still very different) string quilt from family clothing.

The second bit of coincidence was that the studio space beside me was almost rented a few days later by another artist who won an award for this piece in the last SMQ's show. This sheer quilt was a part of a recent exhibit at Ewing Gallery on the UT, Knoxville campus.

And third coincidence is that the Smoky Mountain Quilters were the group that sponsored the fiber award I received a few weeks ago at the Oak Ridge Open Show. The award was decided by the juror (and not SMQ) and was for this piece:

Los Angeles Aerial #3: Psychogeography of the crazy quilt (in the fashion of Jackson Pollock)

Not the best pic. As soon as the work comes down in early November, I'll have the piece professionally photographed.

Monday, September 03, 2007

Some thoughts on feminism, fiber, media choice, contemporary art practices and labor

I’ve been pretty busy lately and, though I came to the conversation late, I did have every intention to respond to the Germaine Greer article, Making pictures from strips of cloth isn't art at all - but it mocks art's pretentions to the core, that has so many fiber artists and art quilters in an uproar, but have lost some of my interest in the task.

I will say that the first thing that struck me in reading the article is this: Did Greer miss post-modernism entirely? She’s upholding painting as an ideal even after its so-called “death” and death of any other material-based studio practice. To work with fibers, to work with paint, to work with any medium has not been necessary to constitute art for a very long time. And to claim any sort of permanence or immortality for the art object as criteria for legitimacy is so behind in the critical art discourse.... Surely Greer’s being ironic? Sadly, I don’t think so. Flippant maybe… glib, haphazard, ill-informed.

And there maybe is the irony… in the article’s ill-informed state, it shows itself to be a consequence / product of post-modernity (which seems to have escaped Greer) in that post-modernity has deflated the notion of expertise. Post-modernity affords a space for Greer where she can play the expert in fields where she is not. She or any of us have the freedom to write and pontificate about art (or science or whatever we choose) whether we’ve done our research about the subject or not. We are all equal to have our opinions. But still… some opinions are more informed than others just as some arguments are more valid than others.

Surely I don’t need to go into performance art, etc. or the material facts of all objects (no matter how mighty): they don’t survive forever. No matter how well protected, paint ages, it cracks – such is its history. Museums and conservationists help to preserve, but they do not try to turn back the effects of time on an old object, nor do they want to. Their jobs are to repair damage and prevent further destruction, not to make old paint look un-weathered and fresh. They reweave holes in old tapestries as well.

Regarding permanence and specifically media choice, Greer refers to Tracy Emin, whose sewn tent was “sadly burned.” Again, I’m not sure of Greer’s tone. Is she mourning the loss of a great object that mocks art, sarcastically calling it a loss as so many ignorant others who like to claim “that’s not art,” giving credibility to the patchwork of Edrica Huws by associating her with Emin or smartly showing the futility in hoarding the art object (as Emin’s tent was destroyed in an art storage facility)? Whatever the way, the object is gone as objects often become lost, destroyed, stolen, burned. (How many stories have we heard of “great pieces” being destroyed in studio fires?) That the piece existed in material form, that it was documented, that it fulfilled an idea and contributed to the discourse of art – this is where the meaning lies, not in the object's permanence.

To give privilege to an idea is not to say that this in any way does away with the cultural fact that an artist’s media choice and handling of materials always carry a history – personal, political and aesthetic – and each artist has a different set of histories and reasons for choosing his / her media to work through the ideas. For many, to chose fiber is a feminist statement that references a shared and inherited history of women’s work and, not only its "futility" as Greer recognizes, but its lack of commodifiable value. Historically, some labor is typically paid while other labor is neither paid nor recognized or, for that matter, even acknowledged as work. Certain labor lacks legitimacy and the proper sanctions from mostly male-dominated social institutions.

Might the "self-mocking" Greer writes about be related to art’s inherent uselessness and thus its often feminized role in a society (though the art heroes are, for the most part, male and the profession has historically been male-dominated)?

I’m not suggesting that any treatment of feminized materials (such as fabrics and fibers) is a “self-mocking” gesture though it can be or has been, espcially with so much irony being thrown around in the early 1990’s. Oftentimes a reference to the historically undervalued (i.e. women’s work) becomes a way to question what a society finds valuable. In that qualifying question, is the quantifiable… at some point, any artist who labors or, for that matter, any worker who labors must come to ask him or herself whether his / her work in particular or any labor for that matter (specifically the commodifiable and alienated kind) is futile. And then… embedded in that question of futility is its counter: Is all labor then potentially meaningful either intrinsically (meditative aspects, self-fulfillment, etc.) or extrinsically (financial gain, professional recognition, etc.) or both? That’s not to pretend that all work is equal in fulfillment or financial gain, but that some joy or meaning might be found in a variety of labor whether or not it is paid and “useful.”

And then there are those male artists who use fabric and fiber as their media. I won’t go into them either, though the point should be clear that they reference a history of women’s work as well.

I suppose it could very well be that fabric scraps are materials that are so over-determined and imbued with history that artists who use them are always at risk of “being misunderstood” or mis-categorized as the "wrong kind" of feminine. It is a fine line. And straddling this hybrid position where I'm sort of one thing and then kind of another, I often find I’m consciously shifting my weight from one side to the other of that fine line that divides the serious from the frivolous, the thoughtful from the sentimental and the powerful from the un-empowered.

I have no delusions that we are all able at all times to make equal choices with equal resources. We are not. We do not have the same career opportunities to do “important work” like developing cures for cancer or whatever constitutes “important [masculine] work” these days. The varying histories, privilege or lack of it, and our personal preferences make the difference in what is within our might or interest to pursue. Maybe we develop the compassion to recognize that some laborers / artists have more choices than others and the arrogance to hold ourselves to a higher standard by that recognition. Or maybe we hold to the compassion to let ourselves be where we are with our limitations and histories such that they are.

Ah, well... I ended up rambling on about it anyway.

So, thank you Germaine Greer, for generating conversation on this important topic as it concerns women, artists and those who labor.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

August First Friday: Shoebox Sculpture, Aaron McIntosh and the new studio orientation

We had another excellent First Friday last week with the chance to talk to several people we hadn’t seen in a while and the opportunity to meet more cool new folks. I only looked into a couple of other galleries by recommendation from some of my visitors who referred me next door to the Shoebox Sculpture exhibit at UT’s Downtown Gallery and across the way to see the excellent work of Aaron McIntosh at 1010.

I didn’t have much time or room (the gallery was pretty crowded) to spend with the Shoebox Sculptures at the Downtown Gallery, so I’ll have to go back over the next few days. One of the sculptures really leapt out at me though: Brooklyn artist John Drury’s Shoe Nut… a lovely little piece constructed from the tips of two wingtip shoes.

Continuing with the men’s wear theme...

Across the way at 1010, fiber artist Aaron McIntosh was exhibiting some stitched target / breast-like imagery similar to this work where he’s mentioned in this issue of Fiberarts Magazine as a young talent to watch. Click on his name to see the work. He is definitely a rare and exceptional talent.

I was most taken with an image on one of Aaron’s cards from a previous show. The quilted piece is titled Family Tree 1 and is constructed from men’s pants fabrics, romance novel pages, cotton batting and thread stitching. I couldn’t find a link to the completed piece, but here’s a picture of the artist working on it. You can get a good sense of how the whole thing looks with these paired and singular egg-like textual parts peeking through (with what looks like reverse appliqué) from the somber grey, taupe, black, etc. of men’s woolens.

For more of Aaron McIntosh’s work scroll down to his name and click on images.

Back across the street at my open studio... here’s a pic of the new set-up since I’ve rotated into my new space:
Barely got this pulled together before First Friday. I’m still not completely moved in. The flowers to the right were a gift from fiber artist Judi Gaston in celebration of the new space. Judi wasn’t able to be at First Friday because she was opening another exhibit at Aerial Gallery in Asheville.