These are part of a taxonomy project: 10 collections of 10 things, each created with a different technique. I still have to embroider the other six in this series (with all of my imminent free time), but I'm excited about these I've made so far.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
what is otherwise lost
A project I created for a course under Daniel Heyman. This was probably the most fulfilling piece I created this semester, as I was able to define it from start to finish and actually bring it to fruition in almost the exact way I had initially conceived it.
It requires interaction from the viewer to experience the piece; I have attempted to capture this through the images. Please let me know what you think!
It requires interaction from the viewer to experience the piece; I have attempted to capture this through the images. Please let me know what you think!
The first drawer holds a book which serves as a table of contents for the rest of the drawers. It is printed in handset Baskerville type, with book cloth covers screenprinted with a drawing I made - a map of a place that doesn't exist. The title, what is otherwise lost was kwikprinted with gold foil. The little book lifts out of the drawer with a small cord handmade of cotton embroidery thread.
the guide that was never enough to help find our way
Handmade origami box, made of handmade flax paper with suminagashi.
Inside the box is a small pouch made of pig suede, closed with cotton embroidery thread.
Inside the pouch is a small compass.
seventeen percent of the air you breathed while we watched the meteor fall from the sky
three percent of the fog that enveloped us when we parted and I cried
a glass vial filled with fiber, topped with a small piece of handmade flax tied with cotton thread.
your thought that I shared when I knew what you were thinking
a glass vial filled with a single strand of cotton embroidery thread, crocheted, then topped with a small piece of handmade flax tied with cotton thread.
the space between your sigh and mine
handmade flax paper, hand-embroidered with silk thread.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Two writings
Intuition
She waits with confidence, observing everything, witnessing the paths that stretch out before time, fully aware of all the intricate choices necessary. In conversation she is more often the listener than the speaker, watching with a soft, quiet, knowing smile, at once calming and infuriating.
When finally her thoughts are vocalized, her voice is clear and unhurried, with the confidence of one who has all the time in the world, and her words are concise, each chosen for its efficiency as well as its meaning.
She is femininity in the truest sense, with soft curves that defy boundaries; no beginning and no end. Ever-expectant, she constantly waits for the next event, her sense of anticipation exuding from every pore. Her clothing is elegant and feminine, but understated, made of colors that constantly transition, subtle earthy hues that open to the next shade like gates lying in wait between gardens.
Under her watchful gaze we all trip, and at times stumble, eliciting a slightly more pronounced smile on that wise face as we again find our footing.
Weather Formations (working title)
There have been times I believed I could do anything.
I could make the wind blow if I wanted. One day I even stopped the rain.
I visualized the rain clouds passing overhead and dropping their moisture on the
next unfortunate place – but oh no, not here, not here where I am standing strong,
where I am powerful, where I am in direct communication with nature and she is
being lenient about the execution of her plans.
There was a power in me, one that could sense changes of energy and respond to
them, one that felt heat others could not perceive.
And there have been moments so fortuitous that I felt that the world had a plan
specifically for me, that I was walking on a predetermined path, and on occasion
that there were road signs confirming my direction, moments when there were such
revelations of perfection that the concept of coincidence was rendered absurd.
Our friendship has been one of these.
One evening, the nighttime was suddenly filled with fireworks unlimited in color,
and it was humid like a warm night in North Carolina. We were two hand-holding
silhouettes, lost in the ephemera of the moment, marveling that we were standing
there together in our early twenties, witnessing a moment that makes life worth
living. The people around us milled around like centipedes, and we didn’t care, in
fact we barely noticed their movement attempting to interfere with our perfection,
failing to distract us from the light that danced in front of us.
I miss that girl, and that time, the unyielding optimism so inherent in both of us,
before it got lost along the way. I wish I could see her and cuddle with her and laugh
with her and be close to this girl who became like my sister, who helped define who
I am, with whom no amount of time could ever be considered too much.
She waits with confidence, observing everything, witnessing the paths that stretch out before time, fully aware of all the intricate choices necessary. In conversation she is more often the listener than the speaker, watching with a soft, quiet, knowing smile, at once calming and infuriating.
When finally her thoughts are vocalized, her voice is clear and unhurried, with the confidence of one who has all the time in the world, and her words are concise, each chosen for its efficiency as well as its meaning.
She is femininity in the truest sense, with soft curves that defy boundaries; no beginning and no end. Ever-expectant, she constantly waits for the next event, her sense of anticipation exuding from every pore. Her clothing is elegant and feminine, but understated, made of colors that constantly transition, subtle earthy hues that open to the next shade like gates lying in wait between gardens.
Under her watchful gaze we all trip, and at times stumble, eliciting a slightly more pronounced smile on that wise face as we again find our footing.
Weather Formations (working title)
There have been times I believed I could do anything.
I could make the wind blow if I wanted. One day I even stopped the rain.
I visualized the rain clouds passing overhead and dropping their moisture on the
next unfortunate place – but oh no, not here, not here where I am standing strong,
where I am powerful, where I am in direct communication with nature and she is
being lenient about the execution of her plans.
There was a power in me, one that could sense changes of energy and respond to
them, one that felt heat others could not perceive.
And there have been moments so fortuitous that I felt that the world had a plan
specifically for me, that I was walking on a predetermined path, and on occasion
that there were road signs confirming my direction, moments when there were such
revelations of perfection that the concept of coincidence was rendered absurd.
Our friendship has been one of these.
One evening, the nighttime was suddenly filled with fireworks unlimited in color,
and it was humid like a warm night in North Carolina. We were two hand-holding
silhouettes, lost in the ephemera of the moment, marveling that we were standing
there together in our early twenties, witnessing a moment that makes life worth
living. The people around us milled around like centipedes, and we didn’t care, in
fact we barely noticed their movement attempting to interfere with our perfection,
failing to distract us from the light that danced in front of us.
I miss that girl, and that time, the unyielding optimism so inherent in both of us,
before it got lost along the way. I wish I could see her and cuddle with her and laugh
with her and be close to this girl who became like my sister, who helped define who
I am, with whom no amount of time could ever be considered too much.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
ch-ch-ch-changes
I now find myself so far behind on my blog posts that I have no idea how I am ever meant to catch up.
It is still my full intention to finish documenting our bookbinding trip to Europe; I have not forgotten about it! It looks like that will have to wait until the winter holiday, though, or I will remain eternally behind.
Far more easily within my reach is a small update on the embroidery workshop I took at Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts with Nick Deford, this July. It was an amazing week, and still, when I think of it I am astounded by everything that occurred within such a short time frame.
In lieu of an extensive post in this moment, I will share with you images of the embroideries I made while there. Hopefully at some point I will be able to post images of the work everyone else made; there were some incredible artists in the course!
In the realm of big news, by now most everyone reading this should know that I have transferred graduate programs, and am now living in Philadelphia, pursuing an MFA in Book Arts/Printmaking at the University of the Arts. It is unbelievable how fast this change occurred; I had less than a month to prepare for the move, and it was an incredibly difficult decision to leave the Fiber program at NIU.
I moved to Philly on August 1st, and the past month and a half has been a roller coaster of emotion, as most transitional periods are bound to be.
Now that I am feeling settled, and school has been in session for two weeks, I can state with absolute assurance that I have made the right decision. I miss my life in Chicago, particularly all of my friends. I love you all so dearly. But I feel a happiness here that I had forgotten it was possible to feel. A knowledge that is whole, and absolute, that I am meant to be here and that Philadelphia is embracing me with open arms. I feel that I was meant to have been here for a while, and now that I have come everything is falling into place.
I am head over heels in love with UArts, and with the program here. I am at school every day for at least 14 hours, and it's wonderful. My feet carry me all the way from my apartment in South Philly, where I have the most terrific, I-can't-believe-how-lucky-I-am roommate, Hannah, and they almost never tire, never complain; the smile rarely fades from my face, and I'm struggling to fight back the tears that accompany unbridled happiness.
We have communal studios here, so everything is open, and we often have conversations with each other while we work. I'm already learning a huge amount from my fellow students because of this arrangement. There are 10 other students starting with me in my year, from all over the country (and one from South Korea, and one from China), with all different artistic backgrounds. I'm so thrilled to be here, learning alongside them!
Yesterday I went on a self-directed field trip as part of a project for our Color & Mark class, taught by Daniel Heyman. I walked over to Fabric Row, a section of 4th street that I had been wanting to explore for a while. For several blocks fabric store after fabric store dominated my eyes, and most had bins of scraps for sale on the street. I walked away with tons of different fabric samples, and some vintage laces and handkerchiefs, for embroidery or textile projects.
It is still my full intention to finish documenting our bookbinding trip to Europe; I have not forgotten about it! It looks like that will have to wait until the winter holiday, though, or I will remain eternally behind.
Far more easily within my reach is a small update on the embroidery workshop I took at Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts with Nick Deford, this July. It was an amazing week, and still, when I think of it I am astounded by everything that occurred within such a short time frame.
In lieu of an extensive post in this moment, I will share with you images of the embroideries I made while there. Hopefully at some point I will be able to post images of the work everyone else made; there were some incredible artists in the course!
the brain and the synaptic nerve, stitched into canvas.
toile print paper with a sheet of handmade abaca, with bees wax, embroidered.
In the realm of big news, by now most everyone reading this should know that I have transferred graduate programs, and am now living in Philadelphia, pursuing an MFA in Book Arts/Printmaking at the University of the Arts. It is unbelievable how fast this change occurred; I had less than a month to prepare for the move, and it was an incredibly difficult decision to leave the Fiber program at NIU.
I moved to Philly on August 1st, and the past month and a half has been a roller coaster of emotion, as most transitional periods are bound to be.
Now that I am feeling settled, and school has been in session for two weeks, I can state with absolute assurance that I have made the right decision. I miss my life in Chicago, particularly all of my friends. I love you all so dearly. But I feel a happiness here that I had forgotten it was possible to feel. A knowledge that is whole, and absolute, that I am meant to be here and that Philadelphia is embracing me with open arms. I feel that I was meant to have been here for a while, and now that I have come everything is falling into place.
I am head over heels in love with UArts, and with the program here. I am at school every day for at least 14 hours, and it's wonderful. My feet carry me all the way from my apartment in South Philly, where I have the most terrific, I-can't-believe-how-lucky-I-am roommate, Hannah, and they almost never tire, never complain; the smile rarely fades from my face, and I'm struggling to fight back the tears that accompany unbridled happiness.
Me in my new studio, provided by UArts.
We have communal studios here, so everything is open, and we often have conversations with each other while we work. I'm already learning a huge amount from my fellow students because of this arrangement. There are 10 other students starting with me in my year, from all over the country (and one from South Korea, and one from China), with all different artistic backgrounds. I'm so thrilled to be here, learning alongside them!
Yesterday I went on a self-directed field trip as part of a project for our Color & Mark class, taught by Daniel Heyman. I walked over to Fabric Row, a section of 4th street that I had been wanting to explore for a while. For several blocks fabric store after fabric store dominated my eyes, and most had bins of scraps for sale on the street. I walked away with tons of different fabric samples, and some vintage laces and handkerchiefs, for embroidery or textile projects.
We have already had our first critique, on a book we made in a week, and I am now working on a drawing for my very first lithograph which will be printed next week. I can't wait! More photos to come later (for real, this time...) so stay tuned.
It's good to be back.
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