I finally returned to my Hot Cross series! It was so pleasant to create art for myself rather than with the intention of creating for a specific exhibit.
Criss Cross is the fifth in the series and, frankly, I’m not satisfied with it. I tried something a little different — no fusing, just strips woven together against a background. As a result, the fabric, doing what fabric does, shifted. I have this on my list of things to try again in different colors and with strips prepped with fusible backing to eliminate the shift.
Whether I’m satisfied or not, Criss Cross was worth making. All experiments are worth undertaking. Sometimes the lesson leads to a discovery of what you do not want to do.
Let me know what you think. As always, constructive criticism and comments are welcome.
SAQA put out a call for art for the next traveling trunk show, with no jury or acceptance process. The only requirement was the piece must measure 10″h x 7″w, no more, no less. I thought it would be fun and quick to work on a small piece, one that would travel with the show for up to three years (what a great opportunity to get my work out there!). While I was correct about the fun part, I was incorrect about the quick part. Turns out, when one is working small, more detail (i.e. quilting) is needed to really make the piece pop, or at least that’s how it worked out for me.
When I was pondering design ideas, through both brainstorming and doodling, I kept coming back to a doodle I’ve been doodling since I was in about 2nd grade. I’ve always called it my sunshine doodle. The only thing different between the very first sunshine doodle and a more current version is the current version doesn’t include eyes and a smile on the sunshine. Seriously, people, I’ve been drawing this thing for over 40 years. You’d think I would have come up with a new idea in that time, but apparently not.
The doodle
So there really was no contest when deciding on my trunk show art piece. After all these years, it was time for the doodle to become art.
I have a growing fascination with quirky, odd-shaped quilts. My first was Hulk Smash, my second, Jeep on the Grill. I had such fun making both of these, I want to make many more in non-traditional shapes.
I love making not square and not rectangular art. I enjoy creating my art in the shape of whatever the piece portrays.
My most recent piece plays with mouths. Or more accurately, lips. Fiber lips, not real lips. I’m not Hannibal Lecter, people. (You’re welcome for that reference, brother.)
SAQA has a Call for Entry out for an exhibition entitled “Layered Voices”. When I think “layered voices”, I think of tons of people talking over each other. And I think of the multitude of voices that clamor from the timelines on Facebook and Twitter and across the internet and out of the television screen, dissenting opinions dominating the feed. All those voices drown out the voices of those who need assistance. There are so many people crying for help on this planet, probably more than are on social media worldwide, yet that voice, that largest voice, is drowned out by the demands of all the people who think their opinion is the only correct one.
I usually keep my opinion to myself. Because it is just that — an opinion. But here’s what I believe: media has become pervasive, over-arching, and contaminating. So much so that opinions are formed based on whatever Media tells us to believe.
And I’m over that. How about we listen instead to that voice buried under the nonsense?
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I created ten mini lip quilts, in varying sizes, to complete Cacophony. Each “mouth” speaks. All are basted to a felt background, purely for presentation. If this piece doesn’t get into the “Layered Voices” exhibit, I may just dismantle it and hang all the lips together from extra-large puppet handles.
In February, Yvonne Porcella, a pioneer in the art quilt world, passed away after a long battle against cancer. Throughout that fight, she maintained a zest and energy and positive attitude that was inspiring to all who knew her. I’m sure she had bad days and down days and days when she just wanted to give up, but from all accounts, she got up each morning, put a smile on her face, and conquered the day.
Yvonne had lots of friends in the art world and beyond. One of those friends, Pokey Bolton, is hosting an art quilt tribute show in September and put out a call for entry this past Spring. The call for entry to “Living Your Brightest Life: A Tribute to Yvonne Porcella” encouraged those who wanted to participate to share what it means to live a bright life, conveyed in fabric and thread.
This art quilt represents what living a bright life means to me. The piece may not be accepted to the tribute show, but I certainly enjoyed making it.
Simple quilting as rays of sunlight and around the heartsIf one leads with love, it bursts from the heart with the brightness of the sun and spills out into the universeEvery quilt needs a poem
Back in the early days of office computers — sometime after Windows became the standard operating system — I would find myself opening the accessory program, Paint, if I found myself with a little down time.
I loved Paint. I would pick the fat little brush tool, any one of the colors, and make wild swirls across the stark white background. Then I’d pick another color and do the same thing over the first color. Then another color and another and another until the computer screen canvas was saturated with this great jumbled abstract “painting”.
Sort of like this, although the old ones I used to draw didn’t leave any room for the page to peek through:
A quick demonstration of Paint
When I returned to art quilting, an abstract work, reminiscent of playtime in Paint, was one of the first things on my design idea list. When I received word that my SAQA region would be hosting an exhibit entitled “Stitched Together”, I knew the time had come to make an abstract piece to submit for the call for entry.
I grabbed all my strips and some of my scraps and some ribbon I had stored away. I began laying them out in a random pattern on a piece of muslin. When I was satisfied, I fused all I could, then turned to the machine to stitch the pieces down. I also used a few different stitch types — satin stitch, T stitch, buttonhole — for variety to produce random chaos.
Once quilted and stitched, but not finished, I discovered this work disturbed me on a visceral level. Looking at the wild splashes of color, my OCD self itched. I was not sure I liked what I’d made so I posted a photo on Instagram and Facebook, admitting defeat, which is big deal because I always finish my work (my OCD again). The response was interesting. One person suggested turning the piece 90 degrees, which did improve the piece but then didn’t fit the dimensional requirements for the call for entry. Another (my Mom) suggested adding black and white. A third said she loved the piece just as it was…it reminded her of a carnival or fair.
I took my Mom’s suggestion to include black and white. The older I get, the more I listen to her. Funny how that works. 🙂
Once I’d completed the additions, I realized the piece had been salvaged. I posted another photo, received more comments, and came up with the name for this piece when one person wrote the black and white additions made her feel she was looking through a screen door at a summer garden. Another viewer wrote the piece reminded her of Piet Mondrian’s work, which I really appreciated because I like his work and in fact, have a few photos of his work in my design idea folder for inspiration.
I’m going to enter this piece in the call for entry. Accepted or not, it was always worth making.
As always, I’d appreciate any input or constructive criticism in the comments.
Hilary Clark Studios 