Above the water. Into the Water.

For several weeks a large quilt-in-progress has been in various stages on my easel. Now, close to its completion is among the most interesting stages to me.

I have filled the space with images of water.

Photo transfers of water.

Painted and printed fabric to suggest water.

Stitching to create motion and ripples.

And, up to this stage, it is mostly as I had planned the work to be. Along with the water I have incorporated some window images to draw the viewer into the experience of looking into water.

Without doing more, I found this work to be pleasing. There’s a lot to look at and I like the palette. But it wasn’t “there” yet. I love to sit next to a body of water, or with my feet in the water, and just look down. The experience of looking through the surface to what’s below is mesmerizing. It stirs memories and emotions.

If I want my finished artwork to recreate an experience something like that (and I do!) I will need to create some layers to look through, and have some things in the background to discover

Here is a detail of one corner to show some of how that’s working.

Depths below: The tree shape In the background was created by stenciling over the background fabric squares, allowing the shape of a tree to show through. I stitched its edges with a heavy thread so it would show up. Still, this is a very subtle shape, and one you might not even notice at first.

Images in front: The brown-toned tree has been physically collaged to the front of the quilt. It has a bit of thickness, so it actually appears in the front. (I may go in and do a bit more shadowing on its edges. This section is close to done, but not completely done.)

Messing with what’s possible; The tree and the roof of the house are interacting. In real life, a tree could not simultaneously be in font of and within and behind a house as it is here. This begins to create emotional layers. We know now that this is not real in the same way as a photograph is real. There are recognizable elements, but they move forward and back as in a dream.

This tree-window-water detail shows more of that layering.

I enjoy creating works with a storytelling component. I want the visual elements to stir up thoughts and memories, and provide a way for a viewer to insert her own stories. Different people will look at images of water and see different things, and feel different memories.

That’s the final layer, and the one I can’t predict. Interacting with the work is the purpose of creating it, and it’s the layer the viewer will provide.

………………………

One more poetry reminder: I am a volunteer with SAQA (Studio Art Quilt Associates) Florida Region, coordinating the poetry portion of a book project. We’ll be publishing in early spring 2021. The book is  an artistic collaboration between SAQA textile artists and poets. We are encouraging ALL poets (no need to be a textile artist or a SAQA member) to submit short works about Florida underwater life, especially FISH.  DEADLINE TO SUBMIT IS OCTOBER 31. NO FEES. You can request information and timeline Here. 

SAQAFlaPoetryProject@gmail.com

That email will be answered by me, and I’ll get the information right out to you. THANK YOU!

Thank you for reading. I always enjoy questions and comments.
--Bobbi
bobbi@bobbibaughstudio.com

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Revisiting the Night

I recently submitted this work for an exhibit. That process caused me to look at it closely again, as it was on my computer screen in detailed enlargements. I remembered the process.

Some things went as planned. Some things I had not expected.

From the beginning, I knew I wanted the feel of nighttime. I wanted to recreate the sensation of being outside on a cool evening, dipping one’s toes into the night air.

I had a nice reference photo to work from. My neighbor, a lovely young woman, had come over to my house to pose for me. The porch is my porch. But, in the process of creating the composition, I did some angle adjusting and some perspective playing, making it more interesting than the original photo had been.

I worked almost exclusively with sheer fabrics as I printed the images. This created a watercolor-wash feel that worked well with the feel of dream and memory I hoped to create.

I worked this piece in squares. That’s not my normal way of constructing pieces. But it created some tensions that I found interesting. I don’t think the squares jump out immediately, but they are there, as a background architecture behind the trees. The trees overlapping the grid and working in relation to it create a nice tension of foreground and background. And, because I did not use squares in the section with the young woman, she is in a reality somewhat separated from everything else.

Finally, as I look again closely at this work I think of the woman it depicts. What is she thinking? What is she remembering? That is the mystery of the work

Becoming One With The Night  2017  35" x 45"
In the Journeys and Stories and Galleries Gallery, HERE

Hmmm… Let’s give this one a try

I’m a planner. It’s just how my brain works. I enjoy the process of thinking through a project, visualizing it, working it out in my sketchbook, then saying “go.”

But I’m learning the value of listening, responding, and just trying something out as part of the artmaking work.

This may be a lot of what I like about collage construction. I physically move things around, try different combinations, and test if what I thought would work does actually work.

The try-it-and-see approach is perfect for testing color. Color surprises are some of the best things that happen in the studio. This weekend I worked on a new set of rice paper abstract collages, intentionally doing all of the on-plate compositions in gold-and-olive neutrals.  The addictive hues created by mixing cadmium yellow with either burnt umber or black work in wonderful and surprising ways with other colors. I had thought this piece would want reds and oranges for the next collaged layer. (That’s how I sketched it.) But what a surprise this teal blue is! I would never have planned that.

Try-it-and-see can be an emotional test too. In my current series about remembering home, some of the stories I am working into compositions are gut-punch-real to me. My inner reaction to an image can be very strong. That happened as I positioned this giant tree into the work in progress of the collapsed house. That was the plan from the beginning. (That’s how I sketched it.)  I wanted the house to be collapsing and a large tree growing up out of its windows. But, as I positioned the tree in the picture, and I felt how powerful it was, and imagined how it must be making the house crack and splinter as it grows up out of its center, I felt it to my core. This became an affirmation. The imagined story has a lot of reality and truth in it.

As usual, what I discover in creating art has truths beyond the studio. Discoveries await. We find them — sometimes — with a plan and — sometimes — by taking chances.

Is Juggling a Good Idea?

For me, in the studio, I believe the answer is yes. I looked around this afternoon. There are at least five projects working. One on the easel is one in the midst of collage layers. One is a sketch tacked to a board. One is in pieces by the sewing machine ready to stitch. One is nearly finished and awaiting hand stitching of the binding. One awaits a fabric-painting session, which I am putting off till I have a few hours of sun to paint outdoors.

I love the energy of multiple projects in the works. Perhaps it’s because I feel good about the source of these works. I’ve been sketching and thinking and composing a series for awhile, and I am now in the process of creating the work. So I am watching the ideas unfold. I am using the quiet time of hand work to think ahead about the next piece. I am allowing the movement back and forth between works to keep the whole process alive and interesting.

It’s not really so much like juggling. It’s more like a dance – an old-time reel. Moving in a patterned way from one partner to the next, coming back to the beginning, moving in a new way, then over again. The studio dance.