My Little Slice of America

This morning our street is littered with the remains of last night’s firecrackers. (Our neighbor takes his annual festive explosions very seriously!)  There is still a slight scent of burnt gunpowder. A summer scent, mixed with the scent of charcoal grills.

I am remembering riding my bike in the alleyway behind the row house where my family lived until I was in second grade.

We had a basement. It was was divided; the front area was used for playroom and my Dad’s office desk. The back area had a washing machine and the furnace and it was terrifying..

Like every person, my story contains individual images and life snapshots. And, like every person, my individual slice is part of the bigger pie, events and trends that I was part of but that were beyond me. My parents were married after WWII and our row house home in Rodgers Forge, Baltimore was the first they could afford to own. I was a baby boomer. Our family trajectory followed the path that could be charted, in retrospect, as part of bigger patterns studied by economists and sociologists.

So much material to work with!

I am so pleased to be a part of the exhibit, “America Is…” at the Touchstone Gallery in Washington DC. Looking at the list of artists and artworks, I can tell that this show will reflect stories of all kinds and images of all kinds. My work was inspired by my childhood row house home. It may hang next to the work of someone whose story completely different from mine. How exciting! How very like America, at our best.

When I created the art quilt that will be in the exhibit, I was interested in the difference between the outside and the (invisible) inside. In row house neighborhoods, outwardly all the homes are the same. On the inside, of course, all the families are not at all the same.

I used mismatched windows, some unexpected color combinations, lively patterns in hand-printed fabrics, and unifying patterns of stitch, which both defined areas and built bridges between areas.

This neighborhood – very much like our country – is defined by the title: “Every One Has a Different Story.”

For more information about this quilt, you can find it on my website, HERE

Thank you for reading. I always enjoy questions and comments.
--Bobbi

BLOG POSTS: If you would enjoy receiving blog posts by e-mail,
please subscribe here:  BLOGS-BY-EMAIL

NEWSLETTER: If you enjoy more detailed behind-the-scenes stories,
as well as FIRST LOOKS at new works and members-only discounts,
I hope you’ll become a Studio Insider.
You’ll hear from me by e-mail about once a month. 
Subscribe here:   STUDIO-INSIDER-NEWSLETTER

---

Water Magic

I’ve been thinking about water, and about incorporating more water images into a new body of work.

Over the holidays, I took a photo-shooting walk in a beautiful preserve near my home to capture images. My goal was a group of shots for transfer to fabric.

I was amazed, first, at the richness of imagery available in just the smallest bodies of water. Almost puddles, small ditches beside the walking path held wonderful surprises – colors, reflections, a sense of depth.

In one spot, the water had a current. What a difference! I am still amazed when I look at these pictures. They look like molten glass, or like I have applied some PhotoShop effect to the image. This is just the delightful, amazing look of water in motion.

These leaves are photographed through about 6 inches of clear water

And I was surprised by the number of pictures I shot that will not work for my intended purpose at all. When I stood directly over the water, looking straight through it to grasses and leaves at the bottom of the ditch, the water was so clear that in the photo it became invisible. These are interesting natural textures, but they do not look like water.

(It seems to me the lesson here is about more than just photography. About the process of looking through. Seeing beyond. Allowing a barrier to disappear as we see what is behind it.)

When images of water are captured with some motion and bit of angle, they are – to me – just magical. They make me want to stop, to see in, to wonder about what is going on below the surface. Water in movement is a wonderful thought-provoking addition to works where I want to urge the viewer to look more deeply.

(Here are some detail shots of works I have created previously that incorporate water images.)

“Once She Could” art quilt. Water detail. The whole quilt can be seen on my web site HERE

“And All that’s Gone Before” art quilt.. Water detail. The whole quilt can be seen on my web site HERE

“Sometimes You Can’t See In” art quilt. Water detail. The whole quilt can be seen on my web site HERE.

“Where it is Strangely Like Home” art quilt. Water detail. The whole quilt can be seen HERE

BLOG POSTS: If you would enjoy receiving blog posts by e-mail,
please subscribe here:  BLOGS-BY-EMAIL

NEWSLETTER: If you enjoy more detailed behind-the-scenes stories,
as well as FIRST LOOKS at new works and members-only discounts,
I hope you’ll become a Studio Insider.
You’ll hear from me by e-mail every two to three weeks. 
Subscribe here:   STUDIO-INSIDER-NEWSLETTER

---

Two Unanswered Questions

The rhythm of printmaking by hand lends itself to contemplation. Once I am in printing mode, I find that I am both working with my hands and going elsewhere inside.

December 23 was a printmaking morning for me, and also a day of thinking. Thirty two years ago on that day my daughter was born. How has that passage of time and the accumulation of experience and memory occurred?

I do not write this in the sense of, “Wow! Time sure does fly!”  That, of course, is something we all experience.

I am wondering about the mechanism of memory and time. Are there specific cells in my brain which hold specific pictures and sounds? As all of our body cells are dying and recreating constantly, how, then, do we retain those memories? Where are they?

Thirty two years ago my daughter was a wonderful new being — warm, squirming, fascinating, and, as I realized I actually knew nothing about babies, a little terrifying. Today she is a warm and wonderful young woman. Such transformation, such experiences.

Exactly how all this occurs is my first unanswered question. (Admittedly, a large and vague question. The stuff of science.)

What to do with it is the second. (The stuff of art)

I take my artmaking seriously. I believe I am doing my best, most interesting  and most meaningful work when it digs at least a little below surface and aesthetic considerations and touches meanings or memory and experience. Each of us, when we create, is bringing to the work all that we are, all that we know, and all that we don’t know.

Can my work be both visually compelling and thought-provoking?

Can I create work that touches memory and experience in another person?

Does the work need representational subject matter to do that? Can abstract forms and colors communicate as well?

The unfolding and continuing of this second question is what keeps me interested.

Below: A few works that felt, as I created them,
drawn from inner experience.

“Find Something Real to Remember” (DETAIL) On my web site, HERE

“Where You Have Long Since Forgotten” On my web site HERE

“Neither Up Nor Down” on my web site HERE

“Flight of the Magical Lawnchair” On my web site HERE

BLOG POSTS: If you would enjoy receiving blog posts by e-mail,
please subscribe here:  BLOGS-BY-EMAIL

NEWSLETTER: If you enjoy more detailed behind-the-scenes stories,
as well as FIRST LOOKS at new works and members-only discounts,
I hope you’ll become a Studio Insider.
You’ll hear from me by e-mail every two to three weeks. 
Subscribe here:   STUDIO-INSIDER-NEWSLETTER

---

LIGHT. PATTERN. KEEP LOOKING

I love this photograph.

In the midst of creating a body of work involving windows, homes, and the complex relationship between inside and outside, this simple image has captured my imagination.

I can envision this composition re-created in a simply painted style, pale color blocks  suggesting the subtle light through the window.

This is a photo of my own home. I have moved within the last year and I snapped this shot as part of cleaning and moving out. It was a happy departure, a part of moving into a welcomed next chapter. Still, I loved this home while I was there.

This image lets the light in, but we do not see the window.

Sometimes windows reveal. Sometimes they obscure.

Windows are invitations to look in, to see what there is inside.

Windows are made for looking through and, therefore, are a good metaphor for time and memory: we look through our past, we look through our memories, to see what was there.

A window in an unexpected place is jarring. We have been culturalizd to know what windows are for, and immediately look at them or through them. But, in an undefined or ambiguous setting, they raise questions.

Finally, the window itself is a pattern. Here, the simple blocks create a geometric pattern on the floor. The neat lines capture the light.

Looking through the windows of remembrance may leave an imprint on our understanding in much the same way.

Keep looking.

Detail of windows: digital image on fabric, collaged with other fabrics using surface design techniques. From "So It Will Not Break in Two," art quilt. This work is on my web site in the "Home is What You Remember" Gallery, HERE.

BLOG POSTS: If you would enjoy receiving blog posts by e-mail,
please subscribe here:  BLOGS-BY-EMAIL

NEWSLETTER: If you enjoy more detailed behind-the-scenes stories,
as well as FIRST LOOKS at new works and members-only discounts,
I hope you’ll become a Studio Insider.
You’ll hear from me by e-mail every two to three weeks. 
Subscribe here:   STUDIO-INSIDER-NEWSLETTER

---

Water + Home… putting together two powerful images

In my studio this week I have begun a series of smaller art quilts that are simple compositions combining images of home with images of water, and tree silhouettes connecting the two.

This feels completely natural to me. As I construct the house sections, piecing in reflecting waterlilies or photo transfers of rippling water intuitively seems just right.

And yet – logically – water and a home are not a good mix. Nobody wants to find water seeping in from a wall or roof. The term “underwater” regarding a home is not desirable. And severe weather can damage or destroy a home with water.

So, I’ve been thinking through what this is about. I think that what I like about water is its quality of hidden life. I find it mesmerizing to sit by a body of water and just look down into the surface. Below there is another world. Sometimes life forms are visible: fish, moving plants. Much of the life is microscopic and invisible. But it’s there.

At the same time that it is mysterious, water is soothing. Imagine the sound of moving water. Waves against a beach. Ripples and splashes over rocks. People are just drawn to the sound of water.

The series of art pieces I’m creating about home invites viewers to enter their memories and dreams of home. It is not intended to be a logical journey, but an emotional one.

The water forms inside are a vehicle to enter that emotional place of remembering.

Detail - Art quilt in progress

BLOG POSTS: If you would enjoy receiving blog posts by e-mail,
please subscribe here:  BLOGS-BY-EMAIL

NEWSLETTER: If you enjoy more detailed behind-the-scenes stories,
as well as FIRST LOOKS at new works and members-only discounts,
I hope you’ll become a Studio Insider.
You’ll hear from me by e-mail every two to three weeks. 
Subscribe here:   STUDIO-INSIDER-NEWSLETTER

---

Saying goodbye – and hello – to a home

Have you said good-bye to a home? It is like losing a close friend, causing you to want to touch it one last time, to trace favorite portions with your hand before walking away. Remember the feel of the front step. Remember the sound of the door opening. This week, as I am creating artwork about home and memories in my studio practice, I am also saying good bye – again – to a home.

I am not a housecleaning fan. I remember once reading a beautiful soulful essay which included words about the meditative power of cleaning baseboards. I thought, “really?” This weekend I cleaned baseboards, and it was, in fact, an act of reflection.

The house I lived in for six years, the house that was a landing place when life changed, is now a house I own and use for rental income. It’s about 900 square feet and not fancy at all. I loved being there. But I left intentionally and willingly when it was time for me to form a new household. It was my home. Now it’s not.

I cleaned baseboards in preparation for a new tenant to move in. This is now the second tenant, so I have experienced the transition of this home once before. It was left in good shape, so the prep work required has not been daunting. I have cleaned, patched walls and replaced carpet in one room thinking about new inhabitants and a new stage for this house.

Images of home and memories of home are so compelling! Home is where our memories begin and are formed. Home is a combination of a physical place and all that happens there. Home shapes us, in ways that may be nurturing or poisonous, or some of both. I am thinking of all these qualities of home as I continue in my current series.

I do not believe I could have created this work earlier in my life. There were too many layers still covered. Now, the work is a way to peel back the layers and dig into the rich soil of all that grows from such memories.

It is my way of saying “hello” to the concept of home.

Here’s a detail from one of the works in my current series, Home is What You Remember, “Something Real To Remember.”  The juxtaposition of the child drawing and faded homes in the background suggests the exploration of memory. More about this work on my website, HERE

BLOG POSTS: If you would enjoy receiving blog posts by e-mail,
please subscribe here:  BLOGS-BY-EMAIL

NEWSLETTER: If you enjoy more detailed behind-the-scenes stories,
as well as FIRST LOOKS at new works and members-only discounts,
I hope you’ll become a Studio Insider.
You’ll hear from me by e-mail every two to three weeks. 
Subscribe here:   STUDIO-INSIDER-NEWSLETTER

A Back-and-Forth Dance – Between Painting and Quilting

Almost finished this one! (Pause for a celebratory sigh of accomplishment.)

As I’m working on my 2018 series, “Home is What you Remember,” I’ve been doing a lot of process experimentation. And it seems to fit what I’m after in the meaning of the works.

“Home” is a rich, deep, resonant, layered, emotional word. Everyone feels something about their home. In this series, I’m intentionally turning the word over and over to discover new ways to address the concept, new ways to get to the memories and meaning. So, playing with different methods has felt like a natural way to go.

Some of the works I’ve created so far are heavy on collage and applique. They tend to be thicker, with lots of texture. Some have been more painterly, flatter, working on gessoed muslin or sheer fabric.

This one turned out to be more painter-like. I did not work in sections – but on whole cloth. (A little more challenging for me because I have a small-throat regular sewing machine.) I used some wet-wash paint layers, some stencils, and some direct painting.

I kept the camera handy to record progress. I hope you enjoy.

(In case of any technical difficulties with loading or seeing the video, you can follow this link to see it on You Tube.)   https://youtu.be/19DzsTFFtPE

BLOG POSTS: If you would enjoy receiving blog posts by e-mail,
please subscribe here:  BLOGS-BY-EMAIL

NEWSLETTER: If you enjoy more detailed behind-the-scenes stories,
as well as FIRST LOOKS at new works and members-only discounts,
I hope you’ll become a Studio Insider.
You’ll hear from me by e-mail every two to three weeks. 
Subscribe here:   STUDIO-INSIDER-NEWSLETTER

What happens if I actually read -- and follow -- my own “Notes to Self?”

I started this week with a note-to-self about content.

Working in the studio, it is easy to get involved in process and technique. That’s the day-to-day work of artmaking. But, I felt the need this week to remind myself, to remember, that it’s the thought and memories that are the whole reason for artmaking.

I have a number of works-in-progress right now, all dealing with the concept of home. Home is what you remember. Because this is such a personal subject matter, a number of times I have been absolutely stopped short by an image.

When I was creating the art quilt of row houses, I was overwhelmed by nostalgia. I grew up in that neighborhood. I have walked a sidewalk in front of those homes and looked in the windows. I rode my bike in the alley behind the houses. To see those images come to life on my worktable was an act of remembering.

When I created the art quilt based on photos of an abandoned house n South Carolina, I remembered standing there by the side of the road. I remember now the smell of pine and the sound of the pine needles beneath my feet. It was an off-the-beaten path road with little traffic. The house was overgrown with vines; the roof was gone. A fire, probably. I found it hauntingly beautiful, rich with somebody else’s life and memories.

This week, I’ve tried to give myself time to have some of those stop-dead-in-my-tracks moments on purpose. The shapes of houses. A small child drawing. A distant house through the trees. A large detailed bird nest. All are filled with meaning. I don’t want to get too busy to see and remember.

---------------------------

BLOG POSTS: If you would enjoy receiving blog posts by e-mail,
please subscribe here:  BLOGS-BY-EMAIL

NEWSLETTER: If you enjoy more detailed behind-the-scenes stories,
as well as FIRST LOOKS at new works and members-only discounts,
I hope you’ll become a Studio Insider.
You’ll hear from me by e-mail every two to three weeks. 
Subscribe here:   STUDIO-INSIDER-NEWSLETTER

Thinking about nest-building

Recently I watched a video of a bird weaving a nest. I was mesmerized. The process is one for which I truly do not have adequate words. Wondrous. Intricate. Detailed. Elaborate. Complex.

On my worktable today I have been looking at the image of a bird nest that I am working into an art quilt – not yet  named – but part of the series “Home is what you remember.” I found a beautiful nest several years ago and photographed it. I have transferred the photo onto fabric and I am allowing the delicate woven patterns to take center stage in this composition.

It is the perfect visual metaphor for home. In my own life journey, “home” and all its meanings are as complex as the intertwined twigs in this image. I believe most people’s feelings about home are very complex. Most of us have some fondness for a home – maybe our original home, maybe one we chose later in life. Those feelings are sometimes mixed with intense longing. Or, the memories may be confusing. Or difficult. Or hurtful.

I have worked with a photographic image of a nest in several previous pieces, using detailed stitching to define the twig shapes. I discovered two things.

First, awe. Tracing the patterns of this object created by a bird is inspiring. As I follow the line of a twig, then start and stop at points of intersection, I am experiencing the deep complexity of the construction.

Second, the sweep of memory. Immersing myself in the sound of the sewing machine chug-chugging, tracing the lines comprising the nest, feeling the rhythm of the image; these actions create an almost trance-like absorption in the process. It allows me to travel to memories and dreams of home and all that it means to me.

This series about home is tapping into some of the deepest parts of my own life experience. I hope that the details and patterns will speak deeply to those who look at the art as well.

NEWSLETTER: If you enjoy more detailed behind-the-scenes stories,
as well as FIRST LOOKS at new works and members-only discounts,
I hope you’ll become a Studio Insider.
You’ll hear from me by e-mail every two to three weeks. 
Subscribe here:   STUDIO-INSIDER-NEWSLETTER

BLOG POSTS: If you would enjoy receiving blog posts by e-mail,
please subscribe here:  BLOGS-BY-EMAIL