Inkblot sequence animated

as a playful exercise during my coffee breaks today.

More tweaking and cleaning to follow, but I'm too delighted to wait.

Erin Curry, .gif, original art ink on vellum, 2012

submerged

These two are the newest of a series that's been incubating in my studio for sometime now. They explore symmetry, the impulse to find closure in the abstract and the push/pull of an image not quite on the surface. Constructed in layers, it begins as an inkblot overlaid with a tangleprint made with graphite and handspun cotton thread and mounted on wood and finally wrapped in mylar. The mylar softens the whole image particularly because it doesn't quite lay flat on the surface. Looking at the work feels a little like looking through a fog at a strange reflection.

Erin Curry. tangleblot (same but different ○). ink, handspun thread graphite print under mylar on wood. 6"x6" ©2012

Erin Curry. tangleblot (same but different ○○). ink, handspun thread graphite print and mylar on wood. 6"x6" ©2012

These left the studio as gifts for twin girls yet to be born. It felt appropriate that a developing idea might be given to new life and echoed the little warm knot memory of my own mother who was a twin. She and her twin developed a little mythos between them that always held an element of the sacred to me.

A dozen more are in the works as I experiment with altering colors and the mark the ink and graphite leave. They feel visceral, alien and insect-like by turns. The word "Oracular" rolls around and around in my mind as I make these. A circuitous route of associations and desires left whirling in their wake. These pieces seem connected to reading tea leaves and taking Rorschach tests. Though many see inkblots and immediately think "Rorschach test," that test is actually not just any inkblot, but a set of ten specific images used again and again to analyze a psychological state. I'm most interested in our general compulsion to find the recognisable in the abstract rather than the specific analysis of a person, though they seem interconnected.

Meanwhile my silklings are nearly-almost-maybe ready to cocoon. 

cloud collecting

My recent research has included an increasing number of cloud captures. Powerlines still make their appearance too, but mostly it's the clouds with wisps I'm captivated by.

Browsing in a dusty used bookstore serendipitously turned up a Cloud Atlas which teaches one how to identify cloud species. Apparently clouds, like plants and animals, have latin species, genus names, and even matrilineage.

One I found online reads like poetry:

"Fibrous, threadlike, white feather clouds of ice crystals, whose form resembles hair curls." (of cirrus)

"Heap cloud with flat basis in the middle or lower level, whose vertical development reminds of the form of towers, cauliflower or cotton." (of cumulus)

In another, the latin roots are broken down,
cumulus to "heap"
stratus to "layer"
cirrus to "curl of hair"
altum to "height, upper air"
nimbus to "rain"

the genera presented and linked to photographs,
and then (and then!) the species are described with all the respect and awe of a witness to the ephemeral

fibratus uncinus spissatus castelanus floccus stratiformis nebulosus lenticularis fractus humilis mediocris congestus

possessing filaments hooked to make thick castle tuft of wool layer appearance nebulous lentil to fracture near ground, small medium to heap up

cirrostratus fibratus cirrus uncinus cirrus spissatus altocumulus castelanus cirrus floccus altocumulus stratiformis stratus nebulosus altocumulus lenticularis cumulus fractus cumulus humilis cumulus mediocris cumulus congestus

that not being enough, there's varieties to contend with,

intortus vertebratus undulatus radiatus lacunosus duplicatus translucidus perlucidus opacus

to twist having vertebrae having waves being radiant having holes double transparent light pass through shadowy, thick

and supplements and accessories,

incus mamma virga praecipitatio arcus tuba pileus velum pannus

anvil udder stick a fall bow, arch trumpet cap sail of ship piece of cloth, shred

Does it get any better than that?

From my own continually growing cloud collection:

 

petriwomb

of silk seeds. Expectant.

Warnings ring in my ears of busy days to come. For now, waiting for a change in hue from drabgreen to bluegray.

Day five of egg watching.

studio siblings

My brother and I are studiomates. We work in an old, dusty, leaky warehouse we affectionately call Orange Blossom Studios. The building was once upon a time a Coke-a-Cola bottling factory, and then a dry cleaners and perhaps even a machine shop, but has held artists now for over two-and-half decades, if not longer. In fact, until recently, it housed the work of my sculpture professor from my bachelor program, still houses one of my other sculpture teachers, and now houses Cindy, my recent showmate, along with a couple other sculptors and ceramicists. 

For years I worked out of a tiny -and the only- bedroom in our apartment. When the opportunity to move in with another artist in January of 2011, I felt I could finally breathe. Suddenly I had multiple workstations and could move nearly seamlessly between them to accommodate different series and stages of work. A space to hang up work and live with it a little while could happen and significantly I was away from the seductive glow of my computer. It gave me a sense of freedom and renewed purpose. Much of my productivity over the last year is thanks to it.  

Part of the benefit was having the company of a few other artists, even if our only interaction during the week was the call across the echoing space to say hello, or seeing the ever shifting landscapes of each other's desks. This sustained me somehow. Knowing others were Here.At.Work.Producing.Art meant I was pushed, or more accurately inspired, to stretch my hours even when the work wasn't coming easily or involved mind-numbingly boring sanding. Even the dusty materials and sculptural skeletons of my prior teachers held in storage seemed like they were were there as reminders of where I was headed. 

Later, there was a brief time where I was the only other working artist there and my pace seemed to slow, the space felt not only dusty, but somehow stale.

When Colin expressed interest in sharing my studio (and splitting rent), I jumped. He moved in shortly after and it's been a natural transition for both of us. His work seemed to almost immediately take on a particular focus and I find myself energized by the company of his work. Sharing a studio with him is lovely in a way my childhood-self wouldn't have appreciated, but it warms me to have my brother working there so much even when our studio schedules don't often synchronize.

one of the rare occasions we've ended up working at the same time

He's been working two series of work I'm rather excited about, Unmind and a long term series of Portraits of his friend Nic Bravo which he introduces here.

Colin Curry. Nic #3. oil on canvas. 16"x20". 2011

In a rather sweet turn of events, we were both accepted into a show this month, Below the Belt, presented by a new arts organization here in Gainesville. It's Colin's first serious exhibition and the work he made for it is ambitious. I couldn't be more pleased.

Colin Curry. Suspension. oil on panel. 72"x80". 2011

silk seeds

Projects abound in my studio and life right now, but an extra special one I've been thinking about since last fall has begun to manifest.

200 silk seeds arrived in the mail yesterday.

Don't they look a bit like something you'd sprinkle on bread? They are silkworm eggs and will probably hatch in the next week or so as long as they are kept between 78-88°F. At the moment the pilot light of the range in my kitchen proves to be the source for an effective, if untraditional incubator.

I picked up a book to help illustrate the tiny scale of these dots glued to a petri dish and, unexpectedly, the page I opened to says this:

That's also to say that usually -but not always- the piece you produce tomorrow will be shaped, purely and simply, by the tools you hold in your hand today. In that sense the history of art is also the history of technology. The frescos of pre-Renaissance Italy, the tempera paints of Flanders, the plein aire oils of Southern France, the acrylics of New York City -each successive technology imparted a characteristic color and saturation, brushstroke and texture, sensuality or formality to the art piece. Simply put, certain tools make certain results possible.

Your tools do more than just influence the appearance of the resulting art -they basically set limits upon what you can say with an art piece.

-Bayles & Orland, Art & Fear, pg. 58, 1993

This concept is central to my fascination with materials and one of the reasons I decided to raise silkworms from egg to silk in the first place. It feels very much a natural evolution from my other spun work where I spin thread by hand to hand-raising a creature that spins its own thread. Beyond simply reeling the silk at the end, I hope the process of raising them will prove a few of my hypotheses true while revealing unexpected possibilities. I'm hoping as well for luck at being a good cat(erpillar) shepherdess.

My local friends, please keep an eye out for mulberry trees and let me know where you see them. I'm beginning a map and they'll be hungry when they wake and hungrier still by the end of a month.

the conceptual geometry of textiles

“Weavers, spinners, Penelope or someone like her, once seemed to me to be the first geometers, because their art or craft explores or exploits space by means of knots, proximities and continuities, without intervention from measurement, because their tactile manipulations anticipate topology. The mason or surveyor anticipates the geometers in a strictly metric sense, but she or he who weaves or spins precedes them in art, thought and no doubt in history. We had to dress ourselves before building, clothe ourselves in loose garments before constructing solid buildings.” (Serres 2008:83)

Serres, Michel (2008), The Five Senses: A Philosophy of Mingled Bodies, Translated by Peter Cowley and Margaret Sankey, Continuum International Publishing Group, London [via the textile files]

a tiny kite

Inkblots have been surfacing in my studio again and again. At first I was in search of a way to generate kite forms, symmetrical, yet divorced from the direct associations of flighted things: birds, moths, and planes. As a result my sketchbooks and my studio have been filling to the brim with inkblots over the last few months in between preparing for shows. There must be hundreds haunting my studio by now. This paper skin has been waiting for most of that time, and I finally began my first small bamboo and paper kite with it.

After carefully splitting the bamboo down, and mapping out the kite's bones, I taped them onto the drawing and heated them up to set in place.

My bamboo shaping methodology is a mite unconventional and could probably use some refinement. 

 

Despite the close call with a torch, the bones are fine. This particular bamboo was gifted to me by a traditional Japanese kitemaker, Ohye Makoto, in Cervia, Italy in April of 2010. It's beyond satisfying to finally be using it.

The finished kite flies beautifully even indoors. The tail is 32" long and I'm still tinkering with different materials to find something a little more pleasing.

the back

for scale

There's a lovely connection between this shape flying in the sky and the clouds alongside it.

Entwine Opening

Entwine Show. Gallery 21. Gainesville, FL

The Entwine show opening went very well. The turnout was wonderful and many of my local friends came by. Two were even gracious enough to be resident spinners for the evening.  Sharon Emery and Ginger Clark -both accomplished fiber geeks- spun for guests and helped give a little context to the traditional process of handspinning. I could definitely see a shift in how people coming into the gallery perceived the work just by being able to have the experience of seeing a spindle in use. Sharon and Ginger were joined intermittently by other local spinners throughout the evening including our own nationally shown tapestry weaver Connie Forneris.

Sharon Emery demonstrating spinning to a visitor. © photo by R.Batista

Showing locally feels sasifying if only because I get to see so many of the wonderful people of my hometown all at once. It's so touching to have folks whether I know them yet or not come see my work and show their interest support. I can't begin to mention all of them or I'd have to write a book or at least a wiki and that is a project for another day (no really, it is on the list). Gainesville is very much Makerville; everywhere you turn is a musician, artist, poet, writer, jeweler, theater director . . . I've fallen very much in love with it partly because of that alone.

My co-artist and studio-mate, Cindy Steiler, exhibited work of great charm and sweet whimsy. I felt our work was well paired and hers seemed to lend a lightness to mine that isn't always apparent when alone. I exhibited a number of my Nubis (Latin "cloud") silk pieces as an installation near her mixed media work. 

Nubis ephemerus silk kites exhibited alongside Cindy's embroidered work

 

The soundtrack for the exhibit was created by Romain Challendes, and was an haunting combination of ambient sounds: stringed instruments, children laughing . . . 

Randy Batista and Sita Marlier at Gallery 21 did an excellent job making certain the community knew about the opening and we were included in the local paper with an image of one of my new tangle sculptures. My fairy godmother even unexpectedly arrived (as fairy godmothers are prone to do).

New Traces of Spun drawings, the Tangle (& . . . ) sculptures, and Specimens installation. © photo by R.Batista

Erin Curry. Tangle (& Arise) front and Tangle (& Swarm) back. handspun cotton thread, graphite dust, acrylic sheet, wood, and custom table. ©2011

Erin Curry. Specimens. handspun cotton, graphite dust under glass. 160 4"x6" pieces. ©2011

You can find a few more images from the opening on the gallery's Facebook Page which I suggest subscribing to as they had some other excellent shows come through recently. They were lovely to work with. Many thanks to Randy, Sita, Romain, and Cindy!

a quick spinning lesson for a young gallery attendee during the opening

Entwine Show

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.