Sculptress Studio

Entwine Show

2012-01-03T17:37:00.001-05:00

I hope all of you have had a lovely holiday and your new year is looking even brighter than the last. My 2012 begins with a show at Gallery 21, "Entwine".

"The work of artists Erin Curry and Cindy Steiler share a common thread. Each uses the traditional material of thread in divergent ways while intertwining ideas of handmade, process and narrative. Both share a fascination with the act of creating; some of Cindy's figures stitch each other into existence, while Erin's work dwells on the creation and character of handspun threads themselves."

opening reception:

Friday January, 6th 2012

6:30- 9pm

Gallery 21

21 SE 2nd Place (next to the Hippodrome)

The work will be up through January 27th.

I'm so pleased to be showing with Cindy who also happens to have just moved her studio into Orange Blossom Art Studio where I've been working for over a year now (that's a blog post for another day). If you are able, please join us for the reception and I'm especially inviting all spinners to come with their spindles (or wheels) to share our processes and celebrate our community, I'd not be making the work I do without it.

Ancient dance

2011-12-09T16:01:00.001-05:00

recorded anew. A new drawing plays out on a different surface. Smoother still and the trail must be left by a softer graphite or else the mark disappears.

Another show approaches swiftly, this time with another artist using threads as well. How will the work play together?

three things to see

2011-11-11T01:06:00.000-05:00

Hello

Just a quick note to mention three shows my work is in this week. I promise to return with more musing type posts in the nearish future, but for now I think I must say three openings in as many days is a personal record.

The first, Codified: Art and Genetics, includes artwork that explores genetics in conjunction with the Florida Genetics 2011 Conference. The connection between the two departments was fostered by The School of Art and Art History's scientist-in-residence, Jamie Gilooly, a biologist who worked to foster connections between art and genetics and artists and scientists themselves.

A number of the works were created specifically for this show on a very short time span with the help of some generously provided grants. The official opening on Wednesday was well attended with lots of interested scientists asking questions and talking about what the work referenced to them (always my favorite part of openings). It was so popular the show's original end date was extended a couple of weeks through December 9th.

See Tangle (&&&) and the rest of the work:

Codified: Art and Genetics

Nov. 9- Dec. 9, 2011

Cancer and Genetics Research Complex

1376 Mowry Road, Gainesville, FL(3rd floor)

Opening Reception:Nov. 9, 2:30 – 4:30 p.m.

Gallery Hours:

weekdays 8:30–5:30 p.m.

click to see more details

The second is Collective Matter, a one night showing of the trifecta of Galen Olmsted, Kalina Winska, and myself on Friday 11.11.11 (A Day of Collective Ones) from 7-9pm. All these little connections between the pieces continually popped up during installation and as a result we three are quite sad it's just the one night. Though my Powerline polaroids aren't for sale (yet) some of them make their debut in this show. After years of collecting and waiting, it's satisfying to see them in a proper space.

Collective Matter

Friday, 11.11.11 7-9pm

WARPhaus Gallery

534 SW 4th Ave

Finally, at the exact same time another show hosts more of my work and many others opens across town. From the announcement:

Wabi Sabi: Imperfect Beauty

The Cofrin Gallery is proud to present an exhibition which examines theJapanese aesthetic philosophy of Wabi Sabi. Wabi Sabi seeks beauty in imperfections found in all things. Guided by this philosophy, Artists embrace random flaws and irregularities that occur through the creative process as an expression of beauty. Wabi Sabi evolved in 13th century Japan, as a way of rebelling against a time of growing materialism in Japanese culture. This exhibition hopes to reveal that the message of Wabi Sabi still has relevance for many aspects of modern life today.

If some of you locals missed the expanded installation of Specimens a few weeks ago, here's your chance to see it again . . . all 180 of them. It's one of the few shows I've seen that seeks to connect rare antiques, humble wooden tools and contemporary work, I'm so pleased to have been invited to show and am looking forward to going later and sitting quietly with the work awhile.

Wabi Sabi: Imperfect Beauty

Nov. 11- Dec. 17, 2011

Cancer and Genetics Research Complex

8009 SW 14th, Gainesville, FL(3rd floor)

Gallery Hours:

weekdays 9am–4pm

Until next time . . .

gallery talk

2011-10-25T18:40:00.001-04:00

After a special request, Kalina Winska and I are delighted to announce we'll be giving an informal artist talk in the gallery on Friday at noon. Please join us as we share a bit about the processes and concepts behind the work as well as how we set up successful parameters for collaboration.

Friday, October 28th
12-1pm
"the gallery"
Rietz Union 2nd floor

Parking is admittedly tricky that time of day, but if you aren't a student with a parking pass, there are metered spots in the garage next to the Rietz.

Plying Thoughts Show

2011-10-17T11:54:00.002-04:00

I'm having a show this week!A friend of mine and I have been planning this all summer. We even collaborated on some work we're both really excited about.

We're in the middle of installation now, but the particulars are below. If you're in the area, we'd love to see you. Come by for the reception Thursday, October 20th, 7-9pm at the Rietz Union Gallery, or if you'd like, contact me (erinhcurry@gmail.com) for a private tour with Kalina and I.

PlyingThoughts presents both individual and collaborative artworks by Erin Curry andKalina Winska. They began working together this past summer based ona kinship between their art practices and personalities. The titleof the show refersto the dialogue between them and how the connection manifests itselfin collaboration. The works between them are a result of an exchangeand response process.

In the show, Kalina and Erin also present themselves as two distinctpersonalities with independent artistic visions through theirindividual works.

Erin Curry, a UF Sculpture alum, currently lives and works in Gainesville,FL. Her recent work revolves around handspinning raw chaotic fiberinto orderly line and shaping ordered line into tangled or wovenmass.The thread preserved within the work, either as the object itselfor the record of it, functions as a gesture of archetypal humancreation as well as shorthand for spun stories of personal narrative,highlighting our complex, often ineffable relationship to the worldaround us.

Kalina Winska, an artist from Poland and currently an MFA student inDrawing/Painting Program at University of Florida, creates large-scale drawings and installations. Her art draws upon loss andthe threshold of displacement. Interpreting this liminal state through the transformation of materials, objects, and familiar imagesthat often derive from personal memory and Polish Folklore, lies at the core of her studio practice.

For more information on the artist duo, please visit www.plyingthoughts.wordpress.com. The backlog of images and thoughts will continue its slow arrival once the show is up.

Schlaufenhaufen

2011-07-02T08:00:00.001-04:00

"loop pile"
a word gifted to me by my German friend, Kisa. Saur
to describe the pile of line at kiters' feet
and my favorite found drawings.

The ones below were collected at the Cervia International Kite Festival in April of 2010.

Anna Rubin's delicate monofilament

Ohye Makoto's Edo kiteline(synthetic braid)?
such surprising angularly
stored on a bamboo winder in a rotating figure eight.

Alessia Marrocu's rokoko battle line
postal twine
she explained it never gets cut (truth, it survived the battle just fine)
before lift off she'd pick it up, shake it and flip it before dropping it again to make it stay all in one mass, a loose tangle.

Kisa.'s dyneema line.

Kiteline

2011-06-30T15:16:00.002-04:00

Some of you may remember the call to artists I mentioned in December. Since then my print has been completed, shipped, sparred for flight by kitemaker Scott Skinner, and sent onto to Japan.

Despite all the terrible tragedy that visited Japan at the beginning of the year, some things resolutely stayed on course; in March, the print show opened in Kyoto at the 6th Kyoto International Washi Association Exhibition and in the beginning of June showed again at the 1^st International Mokuhanga Conference in Kyoto. My print joins a group of other print and kitemakers' work as well as some innovative larger kitework by Yoshizumi Nobuhiko (who also makes very small kites, some only a few mm in size) and Scott Skinner's own work. The show will travel a bit more this year before retiring.

It's a bit of a thrill for me to know my work has traveled a world away and has a long journey ahead of it before finding a new home.

Kiteline (in process)

13" diameter

woodblock print on mulberry paper

Though I've explored the image of a tangle for a long while, it resonants particularly well for a kite as anyone who has noted a pile of line at a flier's feet. When in the sky, this kite reflects what is on the ground, mediated by a thread and the hand holding the the line between them.

The composition for the print was created by sketching with ready-made cotton line dropped from above as it might be in flying a kite and recording my favorites until I settled on one to make. Tempting as it was to use handspun for my sketches as I do with Specimens, I refrained, as it seemed most appropriate to use line that the kite would fly on to maintain gestural symmetry.

This above/below symmetry mediated by the hand shows up in my Spindle drawings too, albeit less visibly in the completed works. During creation of the drawings, I draw the image from above the prepared paper which lays horizontally. The roving of wool is tamed into a line by hand and the spindle holding a piece of graphite below it draws a roving line into chaotic masses.

My to-do list includes sparring and bridling one of the extra prints of Kiteline and flying it myself soon. In the proper circumstances the sun will illuminate the kite from behind, and the tangle will glow through paper left bare of ink.

For now here's a few images from the printing of:

This printing ink smells divinely of burnt linseed oil.

When counterspace ran out, the oven became a drying rack.

Further Reading:
Scott Skinner reflects on process, the exhibit, and presents more of the submitted prints in Kitelife magazine here.

next wave and delighted

2011-06-28T15:07:00.009-04:00

Though my blog has lain largely fallow, my art practice continues to grow.

Recently, my Spindle Drawings were selected for an exhibit in South Florida at the Lighthouse ArtCenter Museum for Next Wave: Young Contemporary Artists which consists of Floridian artists under the age of 35. The opening reception was held Friday and it will remain up through September 1st with a few more events associated with it between now and then, so if you find yourself in the West Palm Beach area in the meantime, please visit the museum to see the show.

I'd also like to mention Traces of Spun II received Best in Show. I'm honored and pleased.

Traces of Spun II

graphite on paper
22" x 30"

(made with handspindle)

Within the gallery space, my drawings were paired with a few ceramic pieces by Ronald J. Shaw whose work is featured on the bottom right of the show's flyer. His process involves creating marks on stoneware by dropping horsehair on the pots during firing which ignites and carbonizes on the surface. Our works complemented one another quite well as both of our processes in creating linework require relinquishing a certain amount of control while maintaining restraint.

Of the twenty five artists represented, a few of the works that stood out to me particularly: Nathan Selikoff's generative digital works which transcend the sometimes harsh surfaces of digital art to reveal something more ephemeral as if recording flashes of natural phenomena, Sarah Nastri's delicate collages of transferred trees on surface embossed with snatches of lace, Rachel Rossin's mythical oil paintings depicting tropical esoteric mythologies (see her painting on the top of the flyer), and Micheal Bauman's sculptures, my favorite of which is Remembrance which is a glass topped box holding a grid formation and ammonia crystals grown within.

The event was also the first time I'd seen Kalina Winska's paintings for the show in person. Kalina and I met just over a year ago, and I've enjoyed seeing her work develop as she's veered through drawing, sculptures and back to her original medium, painting. I am looking forward to seeing more of what these swirling worlds hold.

Kalina and I also have a special project in the works that we'll share soon.

Here's my favorite of the Kalina's work in the show:

Kalina Winska

This Far and No Farther

oil on canvas

26" x 26"

Thrice

2011-03-21T22:03:00.002-04:00

The third in this series finally marks a feeling of familiarity with the drawing spindle. With this tool, greater proficiency comes with a need to mindfully let go of rigid rules, to find a way to coax a specific line and tether a delicate drawing without binding it.

Traces of Spun #3
22" x 30"
graphite on paper

Traces of Spun #3 (detail)
22" x 30"
graphite on paper

spun drawn

2011-02-27T17:36:00.008-05:00

Two waited a long time. Month after month passed as small studio experiments joined its side on the daylit wall. The place of open air contemplation ever shifted as wisps of graphite, paper, mylar, and silk came and went, all except for this white rectangle with the quiet buzz in its middle.

The barest hint of spring brought it through my hands again, this time to completion and followed swiftly by its sister.

Traces of Spun #2
22" x 30"
graphite on paper

click to see larger

The long incubation period makes all the more appropriate the final form held within holds the ending of division or beginnings of connection.

treelines

2011-02-08T21:15:00.006-05:00

Vascular winter.
Bare lines against stark cold white.
Subtly moving drawing.

on the new year

2011-01-31T20:46:00.000-05:00

an inheritance of moldy books,
gifted to the flames
crackle and peel or fly on hot currents.
leaves rustle above and scatter below.

Already the end of the first month, I only just seem to be catching on to the new year of double 1s. Lots of things are floating in the air ready to be plucked and experienced and I couldn't be more excited about the year to come. There's always more to be said and more to show and I'm always relieved to see and hear from my blogger friends. What will we make this year? What will we gather close and nurture or burn and bury?

stare time

2011-01-29T13:34:00.002-05:00

The third and most recent manifestation of my spindle drawing proves to me that abstraction can be tricky in numbers. When two or more abstractions sit together, they reach towards one another like curious infants, grasping strands of similarities and examining differences. The search for meaning springs from their nebulous forms and slowly those likenesses and differences fold in upon themselves, gathering complexity. Soon they are babbling.

Traces of Spun #3 (in progress)
graphite on paper, 22 x 30"

I resist the easy, stop to stare, to peek through the veil of possibilities, then work again, each step progressing the forms and progressively slower.
Careful, there is no return to a simpler state.

sketch

2011-01-07T17:17:00.002-05:00

Spinning,
printing,
fixing
and layering
Portions of this week went to my Brooklyn Art Library sketchbook. The entire book itself sketches out one of the books/collections of drawings that have been haunting me,
and now made solid
Wisps of thought solidify and blur out again,
Layered galaxies,
extracted DNA strands,
microorganisms writhing, swimming in a sea of white,
more
more
more

donning a printer's cap

2010-12-25T23:36:00.001-05:00

linear wanderings on birch ply
to be recorded on rice paper and then if all goes well
fly(call to artists)
relief printing has been far from my fingers for quite awhile,
and some things only return once in the midst of process
while new things are learned with a new medium.
linoleum, far more familiar, cuts smooth and washes clean with soap and water, while wood benefits from the brush of sandpaper to sooth rough edges and a soft brayer rolls ink into minor divots and grain more readily than the hard.
prints will come soon, but for now each step steadily follows the last.

new tangle.

2010-12-16T17:13:00.010-05:00

Tangle 10.15.10

handspun wool, acrylic sheet, graphite and wood

18.5" x 8" x 5.5"

2010

achingly clean clear edges
a small monolith of captured string
loop upon loop
entangled and preserved
closer still
little sprigs of fiber sprout off in directions of their own
with puffs of black graphite dotting the inner facets

peer directly through

and see the shadows

inset in a graphite base
buffed silver black.

Specimens

2010-10-21T10:04:00.005-04:00

Specimens

handspun cotton thread, graphite, and cotton rag paper

each is 4” x 6”

2009-2010

A couple of days ago this work returned home from Gallery 817. The collection of work in the show felt quite strong and associating this small series with other work refreshed my thoughts and got my mind churning in new directions.

Now that they are up on the wall at home again I find myself orienting my body in their direction just to gaze at them in the brief pauses between tasks. Following the sinuous paths brings me to the many moments throughout my life where I've paused at the edge of darkened pools to stare into the ever patterned ripples of water or studied raindrops streaking down a window. If given the freedom of time, I will sit for hours, mesmerized, watching for the perfect repeat and never quite able to grasp them.

In many ways this collection excites the same feeling even as it satiates it. An obsessive gaze is finally allowed to rest on preserved individuals for contemplative study. Here are only fifteen, but many more await capture.

from the sketchbook archives

2010-09-29T13:00:00.057-04:00

Threads drawn by machine and threads drawn by hands imprinted on paper with graphite. The ambiguity of whether these are prints or drawings pleases me.

an elusive silver

2010-09-15T14:02:00.055-04:00

When my mother died, most of her art supplies and tools found a new home in my studio. Among the pencil stubs, pastels, paper and jewelry tools was a jar of graphite powder. Its presence deeply comforted me. Some of my earliest memories of toddling around my mother's studio were of the little plates of powder set on her worktable just at my eye level and the stern admonishment to keep away from them. When she sharpened her drawing pencils she'd save the graphite scrapings and use it and the jarred stuff to brush soft veils of grey onto her detailed drawings. My current work uses lots of graphite, but my mother's jar is unusual. The powder within reflects a silver gray rather than the velvety black found in my own jars.

The silver tantalizes me in the same way certain shades of blue found in the sky do. My eyes are simultaneously hungry and full.

Despite the draw for this particular shade of gray, I've been unable to bring myself to use it beyond a tiny bit of experimentation without knowing I can find it elsewhere and let this particular jar stick around. Yes, I'm a sentimentalist. Is it truly Sennelier graphite as the label suggests or a rarer shade of thousands of pencil shavings? I've looked a bit from time to time without luck for the same shade of silvered grey, until a few weeks ago when an artist I spoke to mentioned Kremer's Pigments carried powdered graphite of differing shades. They do have something labeled silver graphite and it's on its way here. Perhaps it's what I'm looking for.

vitality

2010-09-04T00:18:00.005-04:00

comes from play

pARTy at 817

2010-09-02T18:05:00.021-04:00

opening Friday at 7pm-2am

a group exhibition featuring works by a diverse group of more than 28 artists.

The show presents works by:

John Burns, Erin Curry,Richard Heipp, Nathan Sapio, Julia Morrisroe, Kristin Reeves, Varian Wolf, Zach Castedo, Dan Luo, Margaret Ross Tolbert, Donald Keefe, Camille DeMarinis, Stacy Streeter, Lauren Garber Lake,Leah Floyd, Kate Helms, Andrew Hendrixson, Chisum Justus, Logan Marconi, Galen Olmsted, Carrie Smith, Donna Flannery, Joshua Kubisz, Dandee Pattee, Kalina Winska, Charlie Cummings, Chloe Rothwell, Nicole Yatulis, Brian Weaver

817 SW 5th Avenue, Gainesville, FL 32601
Show Dates (by appointment): September 4 – October 2, 2010
Contact: gallery817@gmail.com

Gallery 817, the brainchild of Kalina Winska and Galen Olmsted, brings a new art venue to Gainesville. It's a small space with lots of potential for experimentation and creative growth. I'm thrilled to be a part of the debut show.

shearing lambs

2010-08-31T20:06:00.006-04:00

Just outside of my hometown lives a woman and her sheep. Mrs. Hamilton and her flock have provided me with most of the wool I've spent so much time washing. She used to throw it to the woods to compost and let the birds have their pick for nests after the annual shearing until my dad got wind of this and mentioned she and I should get to know each other. We did and not only did she offer to let me have it, but also delivered it. Such generosity!

As most shepherdesses do, she shears her flock in the spring, but she invited me at the beginning of the summer to help her liberate the lambs from their woolen coats before the harsh Florida heat set in. In the past she's lost a few to stress this time of year and hoped to avoid loss this year. It was my first time meeting the flock, and though we only handled the just weaned lambs I completely fell for them all. The ewes rested happily on the the other side of the fence just in sight and the lambs were lovely sweet things that nibbled my pant leg and Maaa'd! piteously when we haltered them and led them to the shearing area. With their shepherdess mama at their heads they were quite calm even if not entirely pleased with the whirring of the heavy duty shears.

Shearing was hot, tiring and total bliss. The concentration required is the same beautiful focus as sculpting or drawing. It's a study in unveiling a tender form: anticipate where the edges of bone rest directly against skin to avoid prodding with the steel teeth of the comb, manipulate the loose skin around the elbows to prevent pinching by the blades, soothing over the thin skin of the belly taut against the gut. The knowledge imprints on us wholly, in a way that just glancing at the animal in the field can never do.

Lifting their heads with one hand as I slid the shears against their necks elicited a visceral response . . . so near to the act of slaughter and yet entwined in protection. Both are shepherding in the most sacred of senses.

The black one in the front is PeeWee; he was just one pound at birth and survived with the help of bottle feeding.
This one was discovered to be dappled underneath. A watercolor lamb. . .As we finished up and gathered up the bag of short lambswool, the skies darkened and Mrs. Hamilton led her oldest charge, a thirteen-year-old blind ewe to shelter. The ewe of clouded eye tiptoed into the barn among bales of hay and and settled in her own private stall built of hay bales, nibbling feed as the rain began to fall.
I'll return in spring.

in the studio

2010-07-21T10:56:00.012-04:00

This is a series of new tangle sculpture stacks. I am making four the same size. One is a commission piece and three more will expand the series. Though my objective with this work is to capture tangles, most of the labor that goes into sanding and polishing the edges. As a result, the sculpture transmits light nicely and it sort of disappears when seen from the side. Many hours go into this, but it is well worth the trouble. That clean detail makes me want to eat the thing.
Nine hours or so later, Side A is complete.
Onto Side B.

and then C and D.

A German friend of mine, Kisa, mentioned that they have a term for this kind of crazy task that must be done "du bist des Wahnsinns fette Beute" which google translates as "You are the fat booty of insanity".
With that as my mantra, I can't help but giggle as I sand.

"When it rains, sheep become self-cleaning."

2010-07-19T15:20:00.010-04:00

Over the last year one of my major ongoing studio tasks been washing loads of raw wool one after the other in my bathtub. I've been scouring them which means soaking the wool in hot water and detergent for a time, pulling them out while the water is still hot, draining them and the tub and repeating til the water is clear and then giving a couple rinse soaks at the end for good measure. It's work that uses a lot of hot water and detergent, means the bathtub is constantly full of wool in various states of dirty and, most importantly, any other work I'm doing is constantly interrupted to tend to it.

Recently I stumbled across about the Fermented Suint Method which seemed like a promising method to make the process more efficient. The Fermented Suint method was developed in New Zealand and involves soaking dirty raw wool in rainwater for several days. This works because of the self cleaning properties of wool. Judith MacKenzie McCuin explains:

"In addition to the coating of lanolin that happens during the passage through the tube of the [hair] follicle, wool is coated with a substance called suint.

Secreted from a gland similar to a sweat gland, suint is applied just before the fiber exits the skin. Suint is liquid at room temperature and hardens as it moves up the shaft of the fiber, away from the sheep's body heat. Like soaps and detergents, which are made from either sodium or potassium salts, the chemical composition of suint is primarily potassium salts, making suint a natural detergent. Unlike lanolin, suint is water soluble. Like all other soaps and detergents, suint naturally attracts dirt and surrounds it, moving the dirt up the wool shaft by osmosis towards the tips of the fleece. When it rains, sheep become self-cleaning. The rain activates the soapy qualities of the suint in the tips of the fleece and washes away much of the dirt. " ("On Washing Wool" Spin-off magazine, Fall 2008)

She goes on to mention that pioneers would run the sheep through rivers or creeks before shearing to wash the wool.

This is the first batch of fleece, which has been sitting in water for five days and is ready to come out. Future fleeces only need two days in the same bath of water.

That film on the top means it's healthy.
That stink means it's happy.
That cover means my neighbors won't hate me.

I have six buckets going right now and am using tapwater instead of traditional rainwater, if these fleeces were more expensive/delicate I'd probably try rainwater.
Once rinsed and clean, the wool no longer smells sour. This process leaves some lanolin which I may decide to remove with my usual scouring method, but it will be much faster needing only one or two washes and rinses rather than several.

The vegetable matter is another issue altogether which will require lots of picking and combing in the future.

At the moment I'm expanding my drying racks to keep pace with the cleaning.

sky fluff

2010-05-10T09:02:00.005-04:00

We found this little guy in our garden yesterday and decided to take it for a fly. It trembled mightily as we tethered it carefully with silk thread and burst forth from our opened hands. After following the fluff for a time and then coaxing it to better currents, we bid farewell as it floated above the townhouse walls around us.

i think it's a thistle seed.

a little collection

2010-03-24T21:45:00.006-04:00

of tangles:

the stack

2010-03-17T00:36:00.002-04:00

grows.

In the studio today

2010-03-14T00:04:00.007-05:00

Here you can see the tangle sculpture remake fully underway. Layer by layer I've been disassembling, throughly cleaning, and reassembling a new stack. I'll admit it's not my favorite project to work on, but hopefully I'll be pleased with the results.

finished spindle

2010-02-24T12:19:00.000-05:00

This spindle is the elegant drawing tool I'd longed for: well balanced, easy functionally, beautiful when still and even more so when in use. The most elusive part, finding a mechanism for holding the lead securely and letting it go for sharpening, had a serendipitous solution after collecting a pile of various pencil parts, a couple days stare time, and a kitemaker. The rest of the tool was calibrated carefully for just the right line quality and wiggle. Handspinners tend to maintain a variety of spindles to spin various yarn weights. In the same way, my drawing tool can be adapted through variations in the whorl weight, balance and size; possibilities abound in adopting a more complex line vocabulary. For now, there is so much to say with just this.

future weaving

2010-02-19T12:16:00.000-05:00

On the right: 656 yards plus of oatmeal-colored Blue Faced Leicester spindle spun.

This method of winding a ball I spotted in a book, and the image wouldn't go away until I tried it myself. It's far, far too time consuming; the large ball took over three hours to wind, but still . . . it's lovely to behold. . . and quite dense.

There's always more bits to share, but they seem to be ganging up on me lately.

sighting

2010-02-16T21:34:00.003-05:00

An errant tangle revealed itself recently in another's studio, fortunately we were able to capture it in its natural environment before it scuttled off to some dark corner.

new art in my home

2009-12-29T07:26:00.002-05:00

Recently I acquired two new pieces of art. One of them is a work by Ruth Whiting I'd been admiring for a long while and my sweetheart purchased it as a surprise for our anniversary in November. It took a bit of wrangling as I was all set to purchase it myself and was hard to shake off. This a quick snapshot in the process of framing it. The birch frame turned out to be a bit too light in color to satisfy me, so I'm on the hunt for a more suitable one. Ruth will be having a Gainesville show in March which I'm sure I'll mention again closer to the opening.
The other piece was made by my brother, Colin Curry, as a Christmas gift to me. It's indicative of some of the work he's done before but unusal in its limited color palate: white black and the color of the birch panel peaking through the paint.

spindle tool

2009-12-28T17:34:00.006-05:00

In tandem with returning to returning to the tangle sculpture, I'm revisiting my spindle drawings. The couple I've finished so far are quite pleasing so far, but the tool I've been using leaves quite a bit to be desired. This is the next gen, an acrylic whorl on a carbon fiber shaft. This piece turned out to be a bit too heavy for the kind of line I'm looking for, so I plan to drill out some of the mass in the center.

woven

2009-12-27T11:06:00.003-05:00

A couple of months ago, a beginning weaving workshop was offered through the local weavers' guild. It took place over the weekend and finally convinced me to dig out the little table loom I acquired years ago, but never worked out how to rewarp after the last existent warp disintegrated. My friend, Liz, joined me and over the weekend, we wove plain and twill samples, learned how to decide how much yarn is needed for a specific project and how to dress our looms to make a narrow bit of cloth. Sunday reached its end and I came home, but continued to weave into the night, watching the cloth grow quickly before me, and enjoying the created rhythm in throwing the shuttle, beating the threads and changing the shafts. I went to bed with the clack of wood and jangle of metal heddles in my mind.
I woke in the morning to the loom brilliantly lit by morning light, and continued weaving all morning. Then continued still later, when friends called me over to visit, taking the loom with me and worked there, chatting with them as they carried about on their own making. Soon enough the warp ended and I whipstitched the edge to ward off fraying and cut it loose. The length would wear well as a scarf if the grey wool used for weft didn't itch my neck quite so much. Instead I'll opt to make a messenger bag. Once I'm able, I'll redress the loom for a narrow strap and stitch it all together when I'm done.

Meanwhile, the Florida wool I was given last spring is still being processed one bathtub load at a time. The Hamilton flock from Williston is finished but the UF stock is only a quarter done. One five gallon bucket stuffed to the brim with dirty wool often takes two days to pick through and wash. Other fleece, especially those that have been coated don't take quite as much time, though it costs more and I'm thankful to those who were so generous to me. Fortunately other small tasks can be accomplished while the wool soaks in hot water, but it's a practiced juggle. Once finished with the washing, ideally I'd get my hands on a picker, a vicious looking tool to help fluff and filter out the remaining sand and begin the next stage of preparation. Little of the Florida will be used for spinning as it's not as soft and regular as I'd like (though some of it is quite sweet and I'll sort it out for spinning and perhaps weaving). But ultimately most of it will be used to felt with.

studio update

2009-12-18T17:26:00.009-05:00

My current studio project involves taking apart and remaking the large tangle sculpture I completed earlier this year. It's had a few mishaps, one of which was being knocked over in in transit from one side of my studio to the other thereby shifting the sheets of acrylic against one another and incurring a number of scratches throughout the inner faces of all 24 pieces. I'll be polishing them out for an indefinite amount of time. This one scratch is halfway through the process; this project will be a test of endurance.
In case you are wondering how one might polish acrylic sheet perfectly smooth again, Novus plastic polish is helping me along.

silken kite

2009-12-07T04:24:00.008-05:00

Silk:
light, strong, lustrous,
it flies beautifully.

seen from behind

The sailcloth is what became of my table fluff. Once I worked out the clothmaking process and shape, my friend and kitemaker, Tim Elverston guided me how to make it fly.

Being of the silken persuasion, it's incredibly lightweight and deceptively strong, despite the fragile appearance. Although the cloth is somewhat porous, it needs just a little wind for the sweetest flight. It's a bit like having a furry little wind beast at the other end of the line ready to play.

framed

2009-12-04T14:59:00.012-05:00

at last.

After hanging above our bed by binder clips for nearly a year, this work may have feared it was never getting a proper frame. I like bare paper very much for its tactility, and the sculptural objecthood of a sheet of paper seems much more accessible when not under glass. In addition, the I-wanna-touch-everything-in-museums part of me takes a perverse enjoyment in leaving art bare and ready for careful caresses. This week I finally caved, in part to see how it would change under glass and to explore how I might keep the feel of drawing-as-artifact.

Over the last couple of days I worked out how to float it on matboard using tabs and put in custom half-inch spacers between the work and the glass. Overall I'm very happy with the look, though part of me still wants to forgo the glass and the resulting glare. One of the other permutations I'd explore in the future is making a still deeper frame and including the little skein of wool made in the creation of this work on a shelf inside, maybe stitched in place to prevent it traveling around inside the frame.

Despite my initial obstinacy at the use of frames my mind is whirring with ways I could use them in future work, and fully integrate them into the concept from start to finish.

quick peek

2009-11-12T01:02:00.002-05:00

at a table of fluff:

ghost tangle

2009-10-29T08:32:00.006-04:00

One of the unexpected and beautiful moments in making these objects has been the discovery of ghost tangles.

miniature tangle

2009-10-28T08:31:00.004-04:00

handspun cotton, graphite and acrylic sheet

3" tall

tangle boneyard

2009-10-27T07:44:00.002-04:00

During the hours of sanding and polishing these edges, I mused over the absurdity of the task. My final goal in these pieces is tangle capture and collection, but the edges are where much of my time is invested. The investment is time well spent, details make or break a work and I'm finally happy with the ones on the right.
The small scale of this piece satisfies me, tiny spun threads handled with tweezers on the pages of a sketchbook make it feel precious and reminded me of mounting insects for collection for an entomology class in college, every leg in just the right position.

My sketchbook practice used to be quite rigorous and though this series of work doesn't lend itself to quite that type of careful record keeping and structural drawing, I find I am missing it. Assembling this piece on an open sketchbook felt appropriate, it is a drawing after all.

Below is the process boneyard:

miniature tangle in progress

2009-10-20T16:10:00.003-04:00

A miniature tangle sculpture has been in the works. When finished, it will stand just three inches tall. Trimming and sanding the edges. Achieving the perfect polish finish on the edges of such tiny pieces proves to be a challenge.BeforeAfter.
On this scale those bubbles are, to say the least, a bane. I'm working on other solutions. Update forthcoming.

p.s. You would have not believed the state of the scroll saw table before I cleaned it up, Florida humidty is so hard on metal tools. A friend alerted me to a magic liquid, Evapo-Rust, which got rid of the rust crust quite easily.

magic seeds

2009-09-10T11:09:00.002-04:00

At the beginning of this year I was gifted a few rare seeds.

They were planted and watered and fussed over.
They grew
and bloomed
and fruited.
I've waited
and waited
and waited.

cotton thread collection method

2009-09-09T08:34:00.003-04:00

Once wound on to paper spools (or quills), the threads live in a jar. There are five occupants currently. How far they might reach if unrolled is unknown.

cotton spinning spider

2009-09-07T23:06:00.003-04:00

My father recently noted I've become a spider, he might be right. Across the table from him, I am spinning a fine white line from cotton fluff.

Since spring, cotton has become one of my favorite fibers to spin. While at a handweaver's conference last March, I had the good fortune to meet an incredible spinner who specializes in spinning cotton. At every opportunity I sat at her booth, surrounded by mounds of the softest cotton roving, and watched mesmerized as she spun by turns on her spinning wheel and takli. Fluff turned to thread in long stretches, little slubs deftly smoothed out into fine lines as if by magic. The process from the outside is mysterious and the effect hypnotic. Joan, the spinner, wore an exquisite blouse made from cotton grown in her garden, hand spun and handwoven. She explained that while the spinning wheel was essential for speed, the takli was her preferred tool for spinning warp threads because they could be spun more finely and then plied for strength at the same thickness as a weft thread spun (and used as a single) on a wheel. In just the span of a couple short days, I had become the student of a Spider.
For months since, I've carried this little spindle, a lap bowl, and cotton fluff everywhere. When the opportunity arises, I sit and draw a fine fine thread from the tips of my fingers on one hand as the other flicks the spindle to spin. It stretches up and out as far as I can reach before I twist it onto the shaft of the spindle. Whenever visiting friends, watching movies, waiting for a table at dinner, or riding in the car it comes out and spins. My teacher, Joan, warned me simply to not to use it at auctions, as she inadvertently agreed to purchase a cow once. The takli sat in silence for a time after I managed to break it, but I've since replaced it and have been spinning again.

Months after that first little flick of the spindle, I've spun just a couple of ounces of tiny thread which I'll ply together for warping my own loom someday.

glimpse

2009-08-31T22:53:00.005-04:00

The summer is swiftly passing, tiny breaths of cool air waft through the veil of the seasons as Fall peeks out and prepares for Act III.

There is much to show and say, but from midst of it I am having trouble giving it substance here. Here's a studio snippet taken just before rearranging the wall to make space for the new.

There's a project in the works, you'll soon see.

here

2009-08-10T11:00:00.004-04:00

Hot, muggy mornings are often relieved by the rains which usher in ever muggier afternoons. If we were less substantial beings, we might swim through the air along our streets as we travelled between the bubbled cold of buildings. We'd sink as we entered the threshold and rise again as we left. The crickets accompany us with their lament in the meanwhile; long, slow songs that buzz in our ears as we sit in the heat of the afternoon, our eyes closed in the pretense of sweaty sleep.

There is relief to be found in the bodies of water where we gather. Here we float in the profound blue and enjoy the fruits of summer.

pool, nieces springs

yes that blue Camera lust officially satiated.

silvered mask

2009-08-07T23:57:00.008-04:00

Functional, beautiful tools should not be underestimated. Particularly those one might wear for an extended period of time. My respirator mask for example:
Primed and silver leafed. Hopefully it will tarnish a little with use and age, but if it doesn't, a layer of paint to relax the shininess should do the trick.

Idea shamelessly stolen from my brother, his has gold leaf.

Speaking of beautiful tools, a dust protection accessory of a different sort and origin was made recently by one of my good friends see it here.

mulberry experiment

2009-07-31T00:16:00.005-04:00

A recent experiment between a friend and me:

Late June.
She a botanist, me a fiberist,
discovered a plant,
the paper mulberry,
or if you prefer Broussonetia papyrifera,
grows here as an invasive exotic.

So we relieve a local park of an unwanted pest plant
brought it home
stripped the bark and soaked it in water for two weeks to let it ret, a stinky rotting process even after multiple rinses throughout,
[I'm skipping the bubbly mess picture]
mixed it around
removed some of the outer bark pieces,and pulled it through a screen
to make paper.
It's quite lovely.

notes:

A wish to hear the thoughts of the person who invented this process while they were developing came to me as we made this.

The harvest portion of the experiment was a little itchy when handling new growth, it didn't last long once we rinsed our arms, but be forewarned.

In the future separate the outer bark and the inner bast fibers sooner, perhaps a week in, so they won't be intertangled.

Some of the dry bark coils were held back to develop material studies later. Plaiting and cording the unretted bark and retting some for a shorter time might result in a longer fiber for spinning string.

Wiki mentions paper mulberry is used to make tapa cloth all over the Pacific Islands. Add an additional process to the experiment list.

also posted:
by Liz the botanist, here (Part 1), here (mid-ret notes) and here (Part 2)

related to:
experiments with nettle posted here by Susan Kruse

top four images taken by Liz Martin

lines collide

2009-07-08T11:49:00.006-04:00

06
28
09

Cedar Key again. Fishing line and tackle entangled just above a popular fishing spot.

One of my favorite signs read:
Keep our waterways tangle free,
Recycle your lines responsibly.

Those dangerous tangles captured my mind's eye and the image of them floating down in the depths has stayed with me.

waver

2009-07-02T10:10:00.001-04:00

Cedar Key, FL

This past weekend we visited the coast with some family. While archeological evidence suggests human occupation of Cedar Key as far back as 500 B.C, between hurricanes and isolation, it seems to hover between here and gone. This ghost house sat abandoned to the currents just outside the one we stayed in onshore. We fished facing it, a constant reminder of our tidal presence here.

tangle wallet

2009-07-01T02:32:00.006-04:00

A recent gift of a handmade wallet from one friend to another resulted in a frenzy of wallet making among the rest of us to create our own. The materials are those found in my kitemaking friend's studio: cuben fiber. Cuben is a cloth made of spectra fibers laid down and then laminated together. It's incredibly strong, translucent, and just needed to have a tangle captured in it.
The tangle above is a test tangle using industrial sewing thread; the final tangle is silk thread pulled from the margins of a bit of silk scrap. The wallet design itself is one Tim adapted from a bank paper wallet.

2009-06-30T13:15:00.009-04:00

6
28
09

squiggle lines and
atmosphere

Queen Anne's Lace

2009-06-16T02:25:00.002-04:00

In an effort to recover, at least momentarily, from sweet camera lust, I've been combing through images made with my trusty point and shoot. These were taken while hiking in North Carolina last August.

a feathered story

2009-06-06T10:57:00.002-04:00

My studio, a veritable jungle of fibers and tools, occasionally reveals a restful moment. Here a beginning tangle drawing, linen canvas, a wool bit and a recent experiment in spinning find themselves in close proximity. This little seductive lock of wool has been around for a long while now, and is one of the early seeds that began my whole thread of work. Above it, hangs something quite new, a yarn of folk legend.
Feather and silk handspun together become an artifact of the Crane Wife, an old Japanese tale. The Decemberists first brought this story to me through three songs:

They tell of a poor man wandering through a snow-covered wood, who comes upon a crane with an arrow in its wing. He removes the shaft and with a grateful bow, the bird flies away. He returns to his humble home and a beautiful woman knocks on his door to ask for shelter. She stay,s and they are soon married. After a time of living in poverty with him, she begins to weave cloth to sell in the marketplace, but she weaves in complete solitude with the express wish that no one looks in on her. The cloth she presents to him to sell is of such exquisite quality that it almost seems to glow and the price her husband receives for it exceeds all expectation.

They live in relative wealth for a time until the day comes when their finances run short and she begins her clandestine weaving again. She finishes and he again sells it, but a local merchant offers to commission yet another bolt of cloth which the young man does not refuse. The young woman appears thin and tired, but returns to her loom once again. The villagers by now begin to wonder about her and tease her husband for letting her weave alone with her secrets. He, being curious himself and reckless from the neighbor's prodding, finally disobeys her and looks in her studio. What he sees causes him to gasp, for at the loom is a beautiful crane, plucking her feathers one by one and weaving them into the cloth. When she realizes his transgression, she gives him a long sorrowful look and flies through the window, never to be seen again.

There are, as with most traditional stories, many variations; in most common variation, the crane becomes the adopted daughter of an elderly childless couple, but it is the tale of the wife with her secret and great skill that I prefer. A proper telling of the story eludes me, most have been diluted through summary retellings or children's versions, and I'd like to find a more detailed or more poetic rendering.

This yarn seems like pure air, when thrown it floats down in a light tangle, and as it does I imagine the cloth the Crane Wife presented to the world. This little bit found a home with a weaver who recently took me under her wing and showed me the way to prepare a loom for my own weaving.

oh brother

2009-06-01T13:37:00.004-04:00

Some more pictures from the magic camera. Meet my brother and his sketchbook.
She's a study for a larger work.
Colin has some incredibly beautiful sketchbooks: all handbound, rich imagery and a very different style from my own. It's only relatively recently that has he's struck out into making larger work and I look forward to seeing the results. Visit his blog and pester him to post more work.

tangle in progress

2009-05-29T11:57:00.002-04:00

intended to lead up with this, but instead will lead back
a system of stations- graphite powder, layout
waiting layers carefully kept separate before joining the stack
just four or so layers here
during installation
rebinding the top and bottom
as the angle and light sifts more can be seen

disintegration

2009-05-28T13:25:00.005-04:00

What would we see if everything but these bare lines fell away? What would we read?

plaid

2009-05-26T12:33:00.003-04:00

05-21-09

To find a project begun well over a year ago continues to have relevance within the context of my new work is a satisfying feeling. My collection of powerline polaroids still grows one by one. Clear blue or grey skies ignite the excitement of capturing more images. As the summer takes hold, the daily rhythm of sunny mornings and afternoon thunderstorms develops and the opportunity to collect is here.

As with any collection, this one evolves as time progresses. Tree branches appear less frequently as my interest in the subtle variation found in powerlines themselves develops. Such industrial uniformity on the surface belays the organic quality found in the details; irregular wrapping of two lines together, the sudden shift direction as the road they follow swerves, or ever more compelling, the disintegration of the lines themselves.

With my recent interest in weaving, cloth patterns appear in the clean intersections and varying thicknesses of line. The top image illustrates the concept perfectly.

rain rain

2009-05-24T22:00:00.005-04:00

5-05-09

While in the midst of recovering the studio for upcoming work and enjoying the recent grey skies above my head (six days of rain and counting), my thoughts are dwelling on old threads that should be revisited and new ones stretching out before me. You wouldn't know it from the scarce activity here, but I have been waking with the feeling of being crushed by my own potential to make; it is both exhilarating and debilitating. It is the precise feeling I have when walking into a library, the feeling of walking into infinity, so much to read and learn and do and only a finite amount of time to do it in. Each idea and potential item clamor for attention: my spinning wheel obtained in March waits patiently beside a generously gifted floor loom, spindle drawings vibrate invisibly on blank paper, tangles await capture and cataloging, thirty-two fleeces -that's right I said 32- sit dirty and potent with possibility. Each need careful development and dedicated time, and all the while a million other ideas of rain down: clothes and pillows and books and kites and furniture and gardens and shoes and dyeing and and and . . .
The choosing of what to hold fast, begin, or let go being the most pertinent questions.

Recently, Twitter and I engaged in an experiment of sorts over the last few ~~weeks~~ months. Sometimes creating satisfying blog posts take a bit too long, but I'd like a brief record of at least some of my studio doings. Could it be used as a studio log? Nearing a hundred tweets later and I think I like the song, if you'd like to follow along you can find me here.

Tomorrow Tangle returns home, a few alterations await her and then some local travel.

Tangle no.427

2009-05-18T10:37:00.020-04:00

acrylic sheet, handspun wool, graphite and wood
60" x 12" x 6"

Threads clothe us.
Threads hang above our heads as powerlines.
Threads are followed as thoughts,
spun into stories,
spoken as conversations,
and left as remnants of online discussions.
Threads of our lives, made by the three Fates, are drawn out, spun, and eventually cut away.
All tangled and woven together.

This is one specimen; handspun wool and graphite powder drawn and stacked, a wisp of the story.

My sculpture has joined seven others in an outdoor sculpture show as part of the Florida First Coast Arts Festival in St. Augustine Florida. The festival features outdoor sculptures, music and theater performances beginning tonight through the 24th. If you are in the area, come catch a performance and see the work in person.

photos taken by Tim Elverston

dissolve

2009-05-12T01:18:00.006-04:00

Visited family this week to attend a wedding and managed to take a few polas along the way. The line quality in the lower one pleases me especially because lines turn blue and begin to dissolve away. If you click on the image to enlarge it you may be able to see two faint lines that cross behind the other four. There's a third farther up, noticeable only by the slight darkening of the lines they cross. Such subtleties make for a difficult capture between the scanner and the screen, but I think they still come across.

Tomorrow I'm back to work on my Tangle sculpture.

Studio Peek

2009-04-24T00:04:00.013-04:00

My friend Tim recently let me try out his sweet camera, here are a few of the results:Having such a narrow field of focus combines some of what I love about the ambiguity of the blur with that divine sharpness. Of course this means I now have the urge to upgrade from my trusty point and shoot. Tim also has a sneak peek of my mystery project over at his blog. While you are over there don't miss checking out some of the amazing kites he and Ruth design and make. Hopefully I'll get to photograph both of their studios soon.

sanding

2009-04-17T09:42:00.006-04:00

Fighting off a cold and a desire to stay in bed, but this is calling:

sanding plexi edges (24- 12"x48" sheets) today

to lead to something like this:

can't wait.

I'm also going to use this opportunity to finish a tag for the first time ever:

I've been tagged by Helle (gooseflesh):

1. sit down.
2. take a picture of yourself
optional rule: in your studio/work space.
optional rule 2: right now. don't primp, just snap one!
3. upload it.
4. tag 5 people to do the same.

I tag the following:
Ruth (Instances of Make)
Mien (Red Red Day)
Marjojo(My Art Grows Around Me)
Meghan (Output)
Colin (Patterns and Pigments)

something

2009-04-07T17:45:00.008-04:00

A study for a project to be finished and displayed next month.
Prepared: handspun string nearly two miles long. Plans laid and remade.
To be scaled up.
To be layered.
A cloth.
A drawing.
A sculpture.
A monolith.

Back to work.

2009-03-06T19:07:00.001-05:00

Seeing grasses again, this time in strange light, otherworldly and dark.

old lines

2009-03-01T22:34:00.000-05:00

oh, oh, oh, where could I find this today?
Etching of Overhead Telephone and Telegraph Wires in Broadway, 1890.

Book of Old New York. Henry Collins Brown. 1913

via wikipedia

insulator lovers

warp

2009-02-23T19:00:00.000-05:00

7-08

note to self: a good reminder to not take orientation so literally.

decay

2009-02-22T19:33:00.009-05:00

Eternal preoccupation, my eyes follow them block after block, searching out irregularities and interesting intersections, taking mental note of location and waiting for right weather to return with my camera.
Some of the most compelling are lines in various stages of decay. The inorganic resembles the organic as it disintegrates, sagging lines vine around taut ones for support. The small towns circling my small city tend to have the most of these, repairs left for more fortunate times.

9-20-08

studio play

2009-02-20T18:30:00.008-05:00

Made this little ceramic spool a number of months ago along with some larger ones. It sat, empty and waiting until this little bit of black thread needed a safe place to stay. Upon winding the thread, the spool became a ring.

The transformation of studio bits, all sketches and beginning ideas, fascinates me, and the cultivation of these happy moments drives me here, to this space, again and again, the moments of "make". From the seeds of studio bits, things planted a year or two ago, I can finally feel a body of work coming forth, something to feed and develop and turn into a show. My spun drawing hangs in our living room above the bed bouying my body and thoughts up in the morning a promise of what may come.
My good friend Ruth, a painter of a different kind of line, recently began a blog; this entry in particular resonates with me as do her thoughts on Art Basel Miami.

tie

2009-02-19T17:39:00.000-05:00

2-15-09

grey sky

2009-02-18T11:47:00.006-05:00

Though spring is swiftly arriving, my polaroid camera has been gathering dust. This winter was different than the last: the sky more often blue with scattered clouds. The fifteenth of February relented and gave me a grey backdrop.

spun drawing

2009-02-15T16:10:00.002-05:00

208
thread 208 feet
drawing 22 x 30

A record of spinning string. Made with a newly constructed tool; a drawing spindle.
Eventually it will be a series.

For now a larger project is in the works (to be completed in May) so much of my studio time is spent spinning on the wheel.

a list

2009-02-09T19:58:00.005-05:00

In spinning I have become a connoisseur of fiber, their names a litany of possibilities.

Merino,
Finn,
Blue-faced Leichester,
Coopworth,
Icelandic,
Gulf Coast Native
: just a few of the sheep.

Then exotics:
camel,
angora,
cashmere,
qiviut,
yak,
alpaca,
llama.

Then bombyx and tussah,
one a silk taken before emergence of the moth,
the other taken after.

Bamboo,
tencel,
seacell,
and milk,
the fibers born through a chemical broth, broken and remade;
the fibers squeak between the press of my fingers.

Plants;
[bast and fruit]
cotton,
hemp,
ramie,
and
linen.

It's an ever expanding list.

An induction to the fiber world is not unlike being taken under the wing of any other epicure. There are steps to take. Look first. Does it gather light in softness or shine like silk. One tastes fiber with a squeeze and a small roll between the thumb and forefinger. Is it soft like merino? Slick? Sproingy? Does it squeak? Is it stiff or lighter than air? Raise it to the soft underbelly of your chin and decide if belongs there for long. Is there a whiff of the warm breath of a grazing animal or the bite of vinegar in a dyebath?

side note: My local yarn store, Hanks has been fostering such activity.

weave IV

2009-02-05T11:41:00.011-05:00

Between making these in August and posting them now I neglected to mention the meditations on process discovered.
The process was less about creating cloth, but rather drawings created with physical lines. Slow slow work to draw this way. Organization of the line slowed by the process to lock it to the ones before it.
The linen line satisfyingly uneven on its own, a hard thin twist followed by a soft thick one , transforms even more as it is laid in, tightened or loosened according to friction, pressure, speed.
Drawn through. The looser weft, relinquished to the tight warp, ever undulating.
Woven. Sculptural drawings or drawn sculptures.

This last one examines disregards a straight grid.
The Agnes Martin paintings I'd seen at the Dia Beacon few years ago kept surfacing in my mind. Those subtle lines perfect in imperfection. A shame pictures don't really capture them well, though perhaps it's good I am distanced from them for the time being.

weave III

2009-01-31T21:52:00.002-05:00

A stone woven in.

weave II

2009-01-30T21:50:00.002-05:00

Another tiny step as the second is woven with an ever so slightly more advanced tool: one shed stick to raise half the warp threads. The thread frays less frequently and progress speeds up a bit.

Another step with varying density.

Loving the way this loom leaves the cloth with finished edges all around: four clean selvedges and nothing to waste.

weave I

2009-01-29T17:01:00.002-05:00

My tiny weaving in Maine led to slightly larger weavings on my new loom: Las Cabrillas.
Tiny tiny steps to revel in new properties.
The first is a simple tabby weave made with single ply flax. As the weft thread runs through the warp, it loses twist and frays, leaving broken soft ends to float above the cloth.
Linen dust gathers below.

remnant [a study]

2009-01-10T23:29:00.017-05:00

handspun thread embedded in plaster

a voice quite different from past thread drawings

stored

2008-12-16T22:48:00.015-05:00

A spun thread is a thing of energy. Each turn of the spindle is trapped in the fiber, it collapses the chaos of a puff, stills it, stores the turn. The spindle's weight holds the tension, the whorl's inertia carries through assisted occasionally by the flick of fingers, twist upon twist upon twist.

The wool fed to it lengthens the thread and the ever turning spindle lowers to the ground. When spun beyond the thread's capacity to store energy the spindle's whirling slows and the finished thread is raised to be wrapped around the shaft. If the thread is let loose it meets itself with glee, wrapping swiftly into a ply. Playful and new. An active line.

When newly spun and measured into a skein it twists in a hundred places, loopy and wild. Some tame it with hot water and soap, but sometimes it should just be.

*my first wheelspun, merino wool*

chair

2008-12-09T00:06:00.003-05:00

Because sometimes between one mess and another I remember to catch the light.

hair sketches

2008-11-25T15:09:00.017-05:00

please click to see larger or go to flickr
each is approximately 2"x3"

A way to preserve the cursive script of hair, to bury and then excavate.

These delicate little sketches proved to be difficult to document, and though unsatisfied with the image on screen (too grey and blue) I still wanted to share.

maine fog in summertime

2008-11-16T21:37:00.002-05:00

thread harvest

2008-11-15T21:32:00.007-05:00

April planting of five Upland Cotton seeds.
September harvest of fourty-five bolls.
A boll is made up of four to five sections holding four to eight seeds.
Attached to each seed surface are many many fibers each of which is an outgrowth of a single cell that develops in the surface layer of the seed.
In the beginning the fiber cell elongates to its full length as a thin–walled tube. As it matures, the fiber wall is thickened by deposits of cellulose inside the tube, leaving a hollow area in the center. When the growth period ends the living material dies, and the fiber collapses and twists about its own axis.
Each boll may hold up to 500,000 fibers.

Some prepare all those fibers before spinning by removing the seeds one by one and combing the fibers to roll them into little pencil sized punnis.
With my handspindle I spun directly from the soft seeded mass. The fibers tearing from the seed bit by bit.
What will one boll make?

One spool of course.
The cotton still blooms and a second harvest has nearly arrived.

sheep shear leads to wool gathering (of the serious sort)

2008-11-14T00:06:00.004-05:00

Back in April, word of a spring sheep shearing nearby (in Florida!) reached my perked ears. Hands hungry for wool and feet inclined to go, I followed the directions given to me, and found myself unexpectedly at an 1840's homestead and festival. Fortunately persons with a drop spindle tucked under her arm were welcomed easily. So happily I sat for two days straight to glean from the people around me, as buttermilk biscuits and potato stew was cooked on a wood stove, water pumped, a log shed built, rope coiled, yarn spun, rag rugs and baskets woven, a native shared edible and medicinal plant lore, and there were even a few sheep sheared. Some of the wool even came home with me. My mind is still churning with it.

Gulf Coast Native Sheep are descendants of 1500s Spanish stock that developed into a tough breed resistant to Southeastern heat and internal parasites. As a result they were a favorite of southern homesteaders. Their heads, legs and bellies are bare to keep cool. They are listed on American Livestock Breeds Conservancy’s conservation's priority list as critical which means there are fewer than 200 annual registrations in the United States and estimated global population less than 5000. These days old lambs just added to that list.

things noted:
-wool can be spun unwashed "in the grease" to make waterproof clothing
-one of the fleeces brought home is from the ewe that recently birthed twins, it's significantly greasier than the ram or the other ewe's
-learned to make cordage from daylily leaves and agave, I later tried Spanish moss
-moss was once used to stuff horsehair furniture, and woven into horseblankets during the Civil War
-spanish moss may have use as a dye material (this is still unconfirmed)
-a woman raised angora rabbits that sat in her lap as she plucked hair and spun it on the wheel
-cotton was largely a cash crop for Florida homesteaders to be sold to the northern industries or exported to Britain . For themselves they raised sheep and flax to make clothing.

Perhaps the most striking bit of information:
Making clothing was a three year affair- the first year after the (up to six) sheep were sheared the wool would be skirted (manure laden bits were thrown in the garden for fertilizer) washed and carded and spun (usually with a drop spindle). The second year it was woven. The third year it was made into clothes and embellished. All the while raw wool was piling up in the attic to be processed in the next cycle.

Clothes had value far beyond what they do today. How many shirts and socks have I thrown away because of a small hole worn in the fabric? How easily would I have abandoned it if I spent three years making it? How did waste apply in the three year cycle? I imagine by the time cloth reached the trash pit it had gone from adult clothing, to children's clothing, to quilts, to patches, to rags, to wicks, to nothing but a few thread bits. How does this knowledge explain the divide between the wearer today and the wearer 150 years ago. We live in a culture of extreme wealth and extreme waste. How do I address this in my own life? My hands tell me to make art that addresses these issues while also taking time to darn my socks. Aren't they so very close to the other?

As I sit in my studio making wool thread I wonder if what I am doing is craft or art. What is my definition of craft vs. art? What are the elements that determine Craft or Art? How have they changed in the last 5, 10, 50, 100 years?

I believe what I do with the thread will determine whether or not it will be categorized under "craft" or "fine art". I am not SlowFood, but SlowArt.
I am drawn to the local, doing everything processes; growing my own cotton and flax, learning the local dye plants, and gathering wool from the area are just a part of it. It is the minimal that forces careful re-observation of the complex.

hair again

2008-11-12T22:40:00.011-05:00

My collection of my own hair grows.
What will become of it I am unsure.
Strands unleash themselves as my hair is unwound at the end of the day. They are tucked carefully into my notebook or the jar that holds its sisters.
In bathing three or four strands come away in my hands and I twist them wet on the rim of the bathtub.
sweet sensual studies
Looped and twined each strand a story lived though unspoken.
I am tempted to tie them end to end and weave with them
or place them in all the sacred places of my life
or embed each strand on its own page of a book,
a biography of ten thousand separate strands
written in cursive by the body.

Last April while wandering a Civil War period general store, these pieces of hair jewelry caught my eye. Such delicate work was made like bobbin lace, pinned to a pillow weighted on the other end and woven bit by bit. Such work was most popular during the Victorian era as a momento mori, made with the hair of the deceased to be worn in remembrance of them. In the States sometimes it was made or commissioned by a living woman to send with her sweetheart when he went off to war in leiu of a coveted photograph or painted portrait.

I found this article on the taboos and strange practices surrounding hair.

woven

2008-11-09T00:10:00.010-05:00

In a basket weaving class I found myself making cloth.
But oh I became a scientist before I was a weaver. See that tiny weaving in front? It was a study from a washcloth with selvedge on all four sides, beginning with the weaving the tool was created sight unseen but signature present. Study revealed it was woven on a simple frame loom warped in a particular way not like an S but looped in interlocking Os. My little weaving came to be from nails in a board. Tried traditional Andros Island-style coiling not with palm but reed and muslin, before returning to the simple loom weaving cloth of linen and spanish moss.

How might spanish moss be when untangled, twisted, tied, corded, partially spun or dipped in ink, wet and wound aroud a stone, or felted in wool? All new vocabulary for new language.

.

2008-11-04T14:44:00.012-05:00

today

i voted for hope.

print by f. o. morris

To skin a tree.

2008-10-28T17:01:00.012-04:00

At this rate it appears my blog will stand still forever, unless I start rolling now. This election has me frozen and watching, I'm looking forward to next week when perhaps I'll breathe again. Here's a short breath for now.
At Haystack we were given the chance to prepare bark strips for weaving. One of the maintence men procured a freshly cut spruce pine to use. Using a sharp pocket knife, we scored strips along the bark then pried sections up and running our hands down the moist crevice between the trunk and supple bark to peel it, gently tugging when reaching the base of a branch. The feeling of skinning something freshly dead nestled in my heart and kept my actions aware and careful. My hands were soon soaking wet and mildly sticky.

The corky bark was carefully scraped off to make something very closely resembling soft leather. Then we scored the thickness halfway and peeled open the pages to reveal the text of growth embedded there.

We rolled up excess for storing
and wove with something precious.

Oranges are Florida's state flower

2008-10-13T11:44:00.007-04:00

painting by Mary E. Eaton via wikipedia

In case you missed it, this Sunday's NYtimes magazine includes an article written by Micheal Pollan addressed to the next President. The article proposes solutions to our need to dramatically reduce our dependance on oil through altering our food supply system to be predominantly regionally based and argues that it would make our country safer, healthier, more efficient, and less polluted. As a Floridian who regularly sees California and South African oranges sold in Publix grocery stores, often without a Florida orange in sight, this strikes a chord. Why are we sold fruits from over a quarter world away when orange groves blanket the state?

We cannot depend on oil to feed us anymore. We can only prosper if we can feed ourselves locally and with ecological farming systems. This is true whether we live in a 'third world' nation or a 'first world' one. Please take the time to read Pollan's article, he's a smart one.

*update* Fresh Air had an interview with Pollan about his open letter today 10/21. You can listen here.

Mourning Portrait

2008-10-09T00:40:00.010-04:00

Still grappling with how to write about Haystack and my new work, but in the meantime check out the latest Fiber Arts magazine.

The front cover and corresponding article feature the work of one of my teachers at Penland, Loren Schwerd. Loren usually lives and works in Baton Rogue while teaching at Louisiana State Univeristy. Her most recent series of small sculptures was created in response to the damage done by Hurricane Katrina in 2005. After taking photos of damaged homes in New Orleans' Ninth Ward, she's paid homage to them over the last couple of years by recreating them using hair extensions discarded outside an abandoned beauty shop located in the same neighborhood.

The series is aptly named Mourning Portrait. Loren's use of hair in this work most strongly references Victorian Era momento mori- intricate jewelry made from the hair of the deceased.* Not only is the wearer of the jewelry reminded of the lost individual, but also of the fragility and transience of all human life. In the same way, this work pieces together a portrait that honors the losses specific to New Orleans while allowing us to dwell on the fragility of our own lives in the face of natural disaster.
The use artificial and real hair from the beauty shop has its own set of associations beyond the use of it as a physical remnant of the neighborhood. As a toddler I attended a southern rural preschool where my classmates were almost exclusively African American; the culture of hair was apparent to me even then. I proudly wore the same tiny plastic barrettes in my hair that they did, but they wore their African and agricultural ancestory on their heads in the tiny, perfect rows of braids called cornrows. These same tiny braids echoed in nearly all of the house portraits draw on and embrace the culture of the previous tenants.

My personal favorites in the series are wall sculptures, 1812 Tuepelo St. (above) and Corner of Maurice and Charles, partially because the forced photographic perspective of the shuffled buildings draw attention to the tenuous hold these buildings have on maintaining existence as structure, but also because only the entrances are carefully coiffed, while the rest of the house is constructed with window screening. These houses are now ghosts of what was once a home, wonky and imperfect shanties and undeniably vacant. The persona of southern-style vernacular embodied in New Orleans architecture lies in shambles, we are unsure the soul of the neighborhood will ever recover as entire generations of families were forced into mass exodus.

At Penland, in between classtime and helping us with our projects, Loren continued to work on one of the smaller houses in the series, carefully sewing on sections of hair bit by bit on a house-shaped framework. Fly away hair littered the floor. Watching the process up close was quite special. She's currently working on a larger house which involves handweaving panels on a loom. When hurricane Gustave hit the southeast a couple of months ago and her power was out for ten days, she was forced to use a miner's headlamp to continue working. It seems appropriate, though unfortunate, that work born of a hurricane would be continued to be accompanied by them in its making. Remember.

*The use of hair as a material has been interesting for me for sometime now (read here) and last April that interest was peaked again by seeing Civil War era momento mori hair jewelry(another post for another day).

sorting

2008-09-18T01:39:00.007-04:00

notes to self during:

thought of cinderella(misled by memory)
meaning vasilissa and psyche sorting the seeds
the tasks of women,
sifting the good from the bad,
the moths from the rice
and uses from others,
flax from oats
poppy from rice
we sort and sift
and hold onto that one careful handful of grain
or
that
sweet
perfect grey
stone
deep
in the pocket
for the precise moment when it fits

click
click
click
clunk

shift

(my watch sits pocketed too)
a tiny tic of impatience
suggests boredom with my task
then

it passes

shift, shift,
pluck,
set
set
set

one satisfactory moment followed by another
holding one perfect stone
and then another
another

shifting
a parcel of stones
clitter clack
resonance of the river

where woolf slipped stone upon stone in her (enormous) pockets
and slipped herself in the eddies.
giving up on shifting those slippery words into meaning.
her sorting done.

chaff floating in the breeze

the task lost

*when editing this, grain caught my attention and reminded me of this heart wrenching story recently in the NYTimes . . . at least Vasilissa had her doll.

penland polas

2008-07-16T17:06:00.002-04:00

she says

2008-07-16T14:36:00.009-04:00

A little experiment. Best to view larger, silent a little while, but there is audio.

At Penland I was reminded my camera has video. Though access to only basic editing software and basic knowledge limits me severely, I am pleased with the results . . .I think. . .

audio of a loom in action to play with would be good though the story would change.

curious to know what you think. what you might change, what you like.

Penland

2008-07-15T23:31:00.006-04:00

moments i loved,
small sweet and
just glimpsed
llama hill

the craft dorm
behind the resident studiospocket collection
the field mowed

would like more of those moments just now, but am packing again. missing sharp things for checked baggage: x-acto blades and felting needles. this time to haystack to make baskets.
stones and wool and grass still litter the floor. "what will i bring home to you?" i ask of them.

*felting needles unearthed*

Stone Collector

2008-07-08T13:01:00.007-04:00

What are you doing?

Collecting.

Why?

I am the Collector.

Where are the stones from?

The river.

How long will it take you?

A long time.

When will you be done?

Probably never.

there to here

2008-07-08T00:24:00.004-04:00

Penland filled my immediate need for a community of living breathing creative people, all making things in a small area. Reading blogs is a lifeline for me, but sometimes smelling the iron studio, watching puppets being built and getting in depth feedback that takes place even when I don't ask for it satiates a grumble in my belly. The theme of the session was Body. Figurative Ceramics, Body as Site jewelry, Puppets, Wearable Books, Portraiture Photography, Kinetic iron sculpture, Lithographic temporary tattoos, and performance/sculpture Body Extensions(my class) were all included.

The two teachers of Body Extensions collaborated previously on work, Loren Schwerd, a sculptor* made garments for our other teacher, Martha Brim, a dancer, to wear and perform with. In our class, Martha primarily taught movement during most of the first week, allowing us to explore kinds of movement, expand on ideas inherent in certain gestures and string them together in short performances, we worked solo, as partners, and with the whole group to learn movement vocabulary and to respond to each other's actions in a way that could, but didn't have to, have an active narrative. My experience with performance is very limited, whereas many others in the class were already familiar with some of the concepts and the class developed quickly. We also played with making and responding to sound made from found objects. For someone used to seeing physical objects progress day to day, it was unnerving to nearly reach the end of four days and have so little to take a photo of, especially while downstairs puppets were being made! Still I chose the class because my growing interest in textiles seems to be requiring I consider performance to some degree, textiles after all are usually meant to be worn or used.

In the later exercises, Loren challenged use to use our bodies as tools to make work. Some made beautiful impressions in clay, another utilized the oils in her skin to make an image on a mirror, one violently rubbed lipstick from her lips onto cloths, another sanded a trail few hundred feet with sections of a piece of sandpaper to make a map of where she had been. Outside of class, I was spinning thread, and began playing with the spindle as my partner in some of these exercises. Soon I started using a spindle as a tool, which is currently being developed into larger works.

In another project we were to make something that extended the body in someway. Thinking about sweeping, flying, African costumes, and the field of tall grass in front of Penland I wove some of the field grass together to make body attachments and played with wearing them on my arms, legs, and head. There were pictures but not on my camera, so I have to wait a bit til they are sent to me. The fact that my final project had to be a performance was increasingly slowing me down. Anxious and looking for ideas that felt sincere, I visited the river again.

Near Penland there is a local hangout at the bend of the South Toe River. From the school head down the mountain, turn right at the BP and right again at the defunct red-roofed Silver Bullet. Farther along, the road lets loose the railroad traveling under it, so the rail can hug the river. Up here the rock on the bank is a jumping point, and the water is just a bit cold at first. Down at the bank, little boys splash, girls flock on the downed tree trunk, babies are breastfed, watermelon is shared among visitors, trash weaves its way into the weeds, and mica flashes and shines among the beautiful stones announcing this is a glorious place. My first visit is spent gathering hunks of mica and round gray stones. My pockets are filled on the other side of the river and I swim back, slowed but buoyant; Virginia Woolf must have had enormous pockets. Pockets emptied several times grow into piles and are carted to my table in the textile room.Stacked stones are soon joined by a jar of cicada skins, three bags of colorful beans, fuzzy leaves and cut grasses. Slow breaths stolen from a running two weeks. The stones are spread and organized again and again. My classmates tease that I am the Collector. That is me, and she becomes me.As the performance date approaches we prepare: a paper costume for a mail order bride, long blood red gut made for a white skirt, a couple's make out trench coat, a root for the mouth. My project is a stone dress, a simple generic muslin shift is sewn and then fitted more closely. More stones collected at the river, organized yet again, and sewn on with my precious woolen thread. Animal, Vegetable, Mineral. It will be heavy one day. For the performance I haul 40 pounds of stones, my collection, to the site and begin again.

* you might know this but sculptress isn't really a word used in the art field much. I like the word, but have a love/hate relationship with it, reveling in the associations of seamstress, lioness, adulteress, temptress, giantess, tresses, goddess, while also wondering occasionally if it associates with the sufix -ette (little) or worse, less. Is -ess dainty? Too feminine? I settled on it with my blog name because my mom liked the word so much, and when she used it, it sounded a dangerous, yet alluring, like the hiss of Eve's snake. Sculptress Studio felt good to say, affirming, so I named my blog with it. Yet I don't use the noun often when I mention my field to others in conversation or ever in reference other artists working in sculpture, because it puts so much focus on the gender of the artist.

note to self: must find a better way to attach stones.

procession

2008-07-07T15:29:00.003-04:00

I lay looking up and once again I am looking at the barest lines of civilization sway.
Sown,
sewn,
lines of power.

Gathered

2008-07-02T15:31:00.006-04:00

Still not posting about Penland, but here's a shot of my desk.details noted

tangled year

2008-06-30T11:00:00.003-04:00

When this blog was begun over a year ago, I was moving into a new studio(house), trying to reorient myself in my art practice, and wanting to record and share my makings and thoughts with others. What was found through musing and making was a thread, or more precisely thread. From a tiny scribble on a bed drawn three years ago, blossomed a tiny mattress sprouting thread, a thread drawn round a bracelet, a thread unleashed from a bird's cry, Toru Okada's plaintive desire to unravel a tangled thread mirrors my own (see my sidebar), embedded thread, the crisscross caresses of powerline threads, and just now I am exploring the origins of thread by making some of my own. Spinning and untangling, I gather, will keep me busy for a while still.

In honor of the year of making and writing here and the community I've had the pleasure to meet, I'm giving away one little drop spindle's worth of hand spun wool thread. This is spun on the spindle I made with the wool of a sheep that lives locally. I find it a simple beautiful object, and as I consistently find myself wishing that others could touch the things I make, now seems the perfect opportunity to share. I'll choose at random one person who leaves a comment here between now and Friday July 4th. If you've never commented here before, please do, I'd love to hear what you think of my threads or the other work I've been making this year. Be sure to leave an email address if you don't link to a blog so I can reach you.