Category Archives: Mixed Media

Patricia Malarcher: Listening to Materials

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TSGNY: How did you first start working with textiles and textile processes?

Patricia Malarcher: I was finishing an MFA in painting in the late 1950s when I saw an exhibition of contemporary banners at the National Gallery in Washington. They were full of color and texture, hanging freely in space with irregular edges, and seemed refreshingly playful compared to the introspective Abstract Expressionism I’d been exposed to. It was love at first sight — I felt I’d found a path to explore.  Since I already knew how to sew, I felt confident that I could apply what I’d learned about color and design to fabric.

“100 Prayer Flags,” 85” x 85”, each unit 8” x 8”; mixed materials, including fabric, Mylar, paint, canvas, laminated paper, stitching.

PM: At first I continued painting while experimenting with fabric and thread but gradually, with two small children and limited space, I focused on stitching and appliqué. In the late 1960s my husband and I made Christmas cards with silver Mylar, which was just coming onto the market after being developed for NASA. When I found that Mylar could be sewn by machine, I began an ongoing body of work.

“4 Prayer Flags,” each unit 8” x 8”; mixed materials, including fabric, Mylar, paint, canvas, laminated paper, stitching.

PM: Before that, I had been making “soft sculpture” with fabric but was creating geometric forms and didn’t like the way stuffing distorted them. Mylar with vinyl backing was stiff enough to retain a 3-D form without stuffing. I constructed a lot of wall hangings from 3- and 4-sided pyramids, sometimes inverting the centers so they became concave. I also did a series of rhomboids constructed of hexagons and squares. Sometimes these had exteriors of plain linen fabric with shiny Mylar inside.

TSGNY: Was this 3-D work your first prolonged venture into using textile processes in your art practice?

PM: In the ‘70s I learned how to weave, but was never at home with a process that I couldn’t take apart in the middle. I did work with basketry though, and loved the way a form could grow in my hands. I made baskets for more than 10 years, first with yarn and waxed linen, then with natural materials, some from my yard. In the early ’80s, I started writing about fiber and other craft media, and no longer had the stretches of meditative time that basketry needed. So I refocused on the incremental process of Mylar constructions. Eventually I felt the need for color and texture in combination with the metallized Mylar, so I began to add painted canvas and collage elements.

“Cloth of Honor,” 59” x 54”; Mylar, fabric (some hand-dyed), thread, machine and hand stitching.

TSGNY:  How would you describe your current process?

PM: I use many different cloth-like materials—commercial cotton fabrics, painted canvas, Mylar, laminated plastics—anything my sewing machine can handle. Generally I produce a lot of elements that become my raw materials—e.g., canvas shapes painted with acrylics; collages, Gocco prints, fabrics that have been discharged, blueprinted, screen- or transfer printed—initially not knowing how they’ll be used. Recently I’ve been experimenting with encaustic in combination with cloth. Often a piece begins with recognition of unexpected relationships between some elements.

“Alternating Currents,” 48” x 48”; Mylar; fabric; paint; screen-, digital-, and transfer-printing; found materials, leather, hand and machine stitching, collage.

TSGNY: Can you give an example of this kind of unexpected relationship?

PM: I once decided to start a quilt with no plan except to follow a prescription I’d heard in a talk by a Russian icon painter: “Always start with the gold.” The first thing I sewed to a canvas backing was a square of fabric covered with gold leaf and an appliquéd image of an eye from an old painting. As I intuitively added more elements, I picked up some black and gold “tiger-printed” fabric, because of its color.  I realized that vertical tiger stripes resembled flames, and then saw a connection between those and the eye and the William Blake poem: Tyger! Tyger! burning bright/In the forests of the night/What immortal hand or eye/Could frame thy fearful symmetry? From then on, the piece seemed to take off on its own; the solution to every problem brought it more in line with the poem.

“Window,” 45” x 30”; Mylar, fabric, paint, thread.

TSGNY: Do you feel your choice of materials has posed any particular challenges?

PM: When I pick up a new material, I try to “listen” for what it’s capable of becoming.

“Window” (detail)

PM: The kind of Mylar I liked disappeared from the market, so I had to look for alternative materials. I’ve tried a lot of new things and now want to take some beyond the experimental stage. At present I’m working on a series of small squares (8” x 8”) inspired by the illuminated pages in the new Art of the Arab Lands section at the Met. I’m also exploring ways of working with encaustic and fabric. Sometimes, even if I’ve found a satisfying approach, I challenge myself to see what else is possible so as not to get too comfortable.

“Fugue” (accordion book), 7” x variable dimensions; plastic, paper, thread, laminated and sewn.

TSGNY: Can you give an example of challenging yourself once you’d become comfortable?

PM: A few years ago I purchased a desktop laminator at a yard sale. I started laminating shredded paper that was used as packing material and torn-up pages from art magazines. The stiffness of the laminated sheets suggested the possibility of 3-D constructions, so I began a series of free-standing geometric forms with an architectural feeling. I’d like to be more adventurous with these, making them larger and more complex.

“Cathedral,” 7” x 11” x 6”; plastic, paper, thread, laminated and sewn.

TSGNY: Has your experimentation with materials enabled you to do things you had not been able to do as a painter?

“Terre Verte,” 47" x 43”; fabric, paint, Mylar, transfer prints.

PM: Since I stopped making paintings, I’ve been interested in broadening the range of materials that can be incorporated into textile art. But compared with painting on stretched canvas, one big advantage of fiber is that you can create large wall pieces that can be rolled up and moved around easily.

TSGNY: Has working with these particular materials changed your artistic intent?

“Heroes” (artist book, open), 27” x 27”; fabric, Mylar, paint, leather, found materials, screenprinting, stitching.

PM: At the time I studied art, there was an emphasis on the nature of materials rather than on articulated concepts or representation of subjects. I still seem to start out with a question of what can happen with a particular approach.

“Heroes” (artist book, closed), 9” x 9” x .75”

PM: One thing that fascinates me is how artwork accrues meaning in the process of creating it. Inevitably, it reflects something of the circumstances surrounding its making.

TSGNY: Can you expand on this phenomenon in your own work?

PM: Some time ago, the Gayle Wilson Gallery in Southampton, NY, offered a challenge in collaboration with the American Silk Company. I was among 65 artists who received 2 yards of white silk to “do something with.” I had never worked with silk, but thought of making a piece inspired by silkworm cocoons. I visited a silk museum and looked at lots of photographs in books, but couldn’t find a satisfactory approach. Putting my original intention aside, I dyed small silk squares in dozens of colors, and just started playing. I arrived at a simple form with silk outside and Mylar inside, and arranged multiples of these in Plexi boxes. They looked like mounted butterflies, and then I remembered that a silkworm allowed to complete its cycle would become a moth.

More recently, I experienced a major creative block after 9/11. Everything I started with my usual materials ended in failure. Finally, during an artist residency, I decided to discharge a large batch of black fabric. As I moved the resulting black-and-white patterns around, I found a resonance with the feelings I hadn’t been able to express.

“Cité Noir,” 27” x 33” (mounted on board); fabric, Mylar, discharge, transfer prints, screenprints, appliqué.

TSGNY: Finally, are there any living artists who inspire you whose work you feel we should know about but may not have heard of?

PM: One of my favorite places to visit is the Rubin Museum—I am always inspired by the colors and complexity of Himalayan paintings and textiles. Recently I’ve gone out of my way to see exhibitions of Kiki Smith’s work—it’s completely unlike anything I would ever do, but I love the reach of her imagination. In our own field, I have a lot of admiration for artists who started their careers in weaving or other fiber disciplines and have moved into the larger art world while keeping a connection to their textile beginnings. I’m thinking of people like Anne Wilson, Warren Seelig, Tracy Krumm, Norma Minkowitz, who are doing major work that could not have been conceived without an understanding of textile construction.  I believe these artists are expanding the language of artmaking as a whole.

TSGNY: Thank you, Patricia. You can see more of Patricia’s work  in “Refuse/re-seen” at Some Things Looming (juried by Warren Seelig), Reading, Pennsylvania, April 14-June 2.   She was an exhibitor in TSGNY’s Crossing Lines and has a piece traveling with an exhibition of artists whose work is included in Masters: Art Quilts, Vol, 2 by Martha Sielman.  Her work is also included in Fiber Art Today by Carol K. Russell and appears on the website of the Surface Design Association.

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Gammy Miller: The Littoral View

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TSGNY: Creatures of the sea, both physical and imagined, inhabit your fiber and non-fiber work. How far back do you trace the origins of that connection?

Gammy Miller: My preoccupations as a child were reading, shell collecting, drawing and stitching.  My intent was to be an “artist” or a “marine biologist,” neither of which I had a clear idea about, nor did I receive any encouragement in either direction.  After earning a degree in fine arts and language — and some dithering about — I became a teacher in the New York City school system. In 1973, fate barged in when the Board of Education set me free to live for long periods of time in Skunk Hollow, New York, an almost uninhabited part of the Fire Island National Seashore. So there I was with the chance to begin anew near a shore lined with shell shards, sea birds and bits of fishing line.

Moon snail (Euspira eros) fragment with waxed linen.

GM: That’s how my life as fiber artist began: with simple half-hitch knots in endless repetition, drawing lines around time- and surf-worn shell shards with waxed linen, a fine marine twine fragrant with beeswax. It was littoral art.  I called the first works “neckhangings” because, although wearable, I wanted them to be considered as a form of art.  I researched and identified all the inclusions, due to my abiding interest in the natural sciences. The Operculum collar includes a patella longicosta, a kind of limpet shell; opercula, the calcareous lids or closures of the Euspira heros or Northern Moon Snail, collected over a period of two years from the drift line on Fire Island; beads and cinnamon sticks. I knotted the collar in number three waxed-linen cord, which I used to buy by the pound from Seaboard Twine, a marine supply house on Murray Street.  My final order with them was for 20 pounds, of which only two remain.

Operculum collar: half-hitch knotted in Irish waxed linen.

TSGNY: How did the “neckhangings” evolve into non-wearable work?

GM: In 1979 I decided to work with basket forms, still using the half-hitch knot.  Although this technique provided a pleasing surface, it became problematic.  In order to have a clean edge, I needed to weave the myriad ends back into the basket.  Very time consuming — even for me who enjoys a certain amount of tedium — so it was logical to move to coiling with needle and waxed linen, using what is known as the “lazy squaw” stitch. (Within the Navaho community, the “lazy squaw” refers to the wrapping of the weft several times around the core before stitching to the previous coil. According to tradition, the squaw who used this method was looked down upon by her peers.) For me, it was difficult not to be a “lazy squaw” because I had to use an awl for each stitch. That solved the “ends” problem but led to sore fingertips. I sometimes covered these baskets in ash or earth, then baked them at low heat so they have some resemblance to clay as well as fiber. I continued to use marine detritus; bones, twigs, shell shards as elements in the composition.

Arizona Basket coiled in waxed linen, baked in earth, with sandpaper and antique glass beads.

TSGNY: That repetitive work with the awl must have been tough on your hands.

GM:  It was! After 18 years (and a severe bout with carpal tunnel syndrome), I turned to the freedom of drawing with pen and ink on cold press Arches watercolor paper, collage and small constructions.

Ornithology: collage with bird’s feet, birch twigs, thread, wire and silhouettes.

TSGNY: Did you miss the feel of fiber, or was it liberating?

GM: Separation from the pleasures of using fiber was a hardship, so I began to stitch on the paper with deconstructed fabric or silk threads for accent and color as elements in the composition.  I use repetitive marks, which for me are akin to the act of knotting, coiling and stitching in that each action becomes part of and essential to the whole.

"Offshore": pen, ink, pulled threads, false eyelashes, stitching.

GM: Drawing freed me to explore again the natural sciences, ornithology among them, and the use of language.  For me, part of a finished work includes an apt title.  I have begun to use faux-Latin nomenclature for part of a current series on maladaptations in the evolutionary process.

Ischnochiton galfonsii, ventral view: pen, ink, false eyelashes, stitching, pulled threads, collage.

TSGNY: When you say “maladaptations,” are you commenting on our human impact on their evolution?

GM: I’m definitely using the term “maladaptations” as a snide comment about how we, the most powerful species on Earth at this particular time, are affecting evolution both purposefully and inadvertently.  Some of the drawings, however, are merely playful, as if one could stir a bunch of genetic traits in a soup pot to see what would emerge. I have titled these pseudo-scientific drawings of organisms using binomial nomenclature. They have a genus, sometimes actual; species, always made up; sometimes followed by the name of the author of the scientific name, which in this case is me.   Thus Chiton ciliata falsus, var. gam (chiton with false eyelashes) and  Ischnochiton galfonsii, ventral view — Galfonsii being the latinized name of a fictional scientist who discovered these species of chiton, probably here on the east coast. The drawing of the dorsal view has been lost.

Chiton ciliata falsus, var. gam (detail). Pen and ink, edged with silk and stitched with false eyelashes.

TSGNY: Now that you no longer have the physical stress caused by the demands of repeated knotting, would you say your current technical choices present any particular challenges?

GM: The greatest challenge is to keep the compositions “eloquent without unnecessary chitchat” (to paraphrase Miro), to resist going too far by adding one more mark, one more stitch. Repetition can be a drug. One has to know when to stop.

TSGNY: Which seems like the perfect place to stop. Before we go, are there any artists who inspire you whose work you think we should know about?

GM:  There are many artists who inspire me, and I guess most are fairly known.  Morris Graves, Anne Ryan, El-Anatsui, Hiroyuki Doi (an obsessive circle maker) and Chun Kwang-Young.

TSGNY: Thank you, Gammy. You can see more of Gammy Miller’s work here and in her solo show, “Unnatural Selections” at the Hudson Opera House from March 31 – June 3.

 

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Wen Redmond: Following the Vision

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TSGNY: Your use of fiber is unusual. How would you describe your process?

Wen Redmond: I hope to expand the understanding and perception of fiber as a medium. I enjoy the creative processes afforded by contemporary digital technology, and my work merges digital processes, photography, collage and surface design. I have developed several signature techniques: “Holographic Images”; “Digital Fiber”; and a new “Serendipity Collage” technique.

My work continues to grow as I explore my medium: over time one develops an eye. When I finish composing an image that I like, I decide on presentation, which might be whole cloth, a photo-art quilt, divided into multiple images, or collaged into mixed-media art. I will layer and finish work using different mediums – like glass-bead medium, for example — for a variety of purposes.  In my newest work, I use Photoshop to change the actual image, layering and digitally fusing it with photographs of my painted cloth.

“Whispers of the Positive,” 2010, 120” x 25”; Hand-pulled print, collaged, and sewn watercolor paper, cloth, painted with acrylics, layered with digital images, monoprinting. Inkjet prints, cyanotype, silk organza, cheesecloth, watercolor paper, ink drawings and mediums.

WR: Most of my attraction to the artistic process is being in that zone I call ‘flow.’ When I work, I encourage a collaborative process with spirit or my higher self, that mind-boggling principle of the universe. When you are in this state of mind, you tap the intuitive and the work can become more than the sum of its parts. Allowing time for inspirations to percolate up from my unconscious is a vital part of the process.

“Before I Knew You,” 2009, 28” x 22”; Holographic and Digital Fiber techniques. Silk organza; photograph, silkscreened and hand-painted silk and cotton.

TSGNY: Can you talk a bit about the specific techniques you’ve developed?

WR: My “Holographic Images” technique is a multi-layered design process of printing photographs on silk organza. I mount the work in such a way that a 3-D effect is created, resembling the movement of a holograph.  (This process was published in Quilting Arts Magazine, April/ May 2007. They also offer a DVD.) My silk organza collages add the dimension of light. Light flows through the picture and creates different patterns, depending on the angle of view. These are free-flowing and loose, with a kinetic quality.

“Ripples,” 2009, set of 3, 24” x 24” ea.; Holographic and Digital Fiber techniques. Manipulated digital image of water: original image printed on archival digital canvas, bordered in hand-painted and surface-designed fabrics. One section of the image printed on transparent silk organza, providing holographic effect. Additional stitching details. (Installation at the new Dana Farber Cancer Building, South Weymouth, MA.)

WR: “Mixed Media Serendipity Collage” is an assemblage of digital prints collaged with surface-designed textiles and paper. The use of transparent organza or papers allows me to layer physical elements, creating depth and design. This is a very ‘green’ method of working. Because all of my work travels parallel roads, I often have lots of leftover scraps, which are excellent for collage. Everything becomes suspect. I save teabag wrappers, candy wrappers, found metal, and the odd items that fall into my path.

“Brainwave,” 2007, 28” x 20”; transparent multi-layered silk collage. Dyed, painted, monoprint. Silk organza, burlap.

WR: “Brainwave” is a slightly more radical piece. All of the layers hang freely, unbound in any way. (The layers have a quote by Bob Dylan: “Who is not busy being born is busy dying.”)  It’s an interactive piece: one can lift the layers in exploration. I wanted to see how movement within the piece could create more patterns. Since it’s an almost completely transparent piece, the wall on which is hangs influences the final color.

TSGNY: How did you arrive at this fantastic range of processes?

WR:  I am a process person. I’m passionate about coming up with ideas and working out the kinks. This leads to more discoveries, an evolution. This work always keeps me thinking- what if?

Part of that evolution is photography, which became readily available with digital technology. My process is also fed by my love of being outdoors. Now I can see the most exquisite scenes or combinations of patterns and share that beauty. These moments become my source, my well. I bring them back to share, to remind, to remember. I hope to bring that energy into my art-making, to communicate the positive, the source, the inspiration, and my mad desire to capture thoughts, dreams and the beauty of nature.

“Perception of Trees,” 2009, 35” x 36”; three digital interpretations of a manipulated photograph, printed on ink jet prepared cotton duck, stitched.

TSGNY: Does your process pose any particular challenges? How have you overcome them?

WR: Digital printing is not for the faint of heart. Creating substrates and feeding fabric into printers gives one much patience. I always say a little printer prayer during the printing phrase of my artwork.

TSGNY: Does your process enable you to do things you have not been able to do in any other medium?

WR: Printing directly onto various substrates to create stitched textural constructions is a unique way of presenting photographs. I love the textural quality and mark-making stitching lends to a finished work.

“Trees Seen, Forest Remembered,” 2008, 24” x 33”; Digital Fiber Collage. Images printed with archival inks on various substrates, mounted onto canvas and collage-fused with painted, silk-screened cotton and stabilizer; stitched.

WR: I love what I do! I love the processes, the places I go when I see color or get inspirations, and the connections with artists. Artists tend to be a little left of center. They see more, feel deeply; they are kindred spirits on so many levels. As Thomas Merton said, “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”

TSGNY: Speaking of kindred spirits, are there any artists who inspire you who you feel we should know about but may not have heard of?

WR: There are a great many artists whose work I love. I love the abstract expressionists, Jane Frank, Paul Klee, Franz Kline, Robert Motherwell, Jules Olitski — the classics. Georgia O’Keefe- I have always admired strong independent women. I like the serenity of Andrew Wyeth’s work. The trees of Wolf Kahn. The photography of Alfred Stieglitz, Ansel Adams, and the innovative work of Mike and Doug Starn. The fiber revolutionary work of Fran Skiles, Joan Schultz, Nancy Crow, and Jane Dunnawold. The digital gurus Karine Schminke, Dorothy Simpson Krause,  Bonny Pierce Lhotka, Mary Taylor, and Gloria Hansen.

TSGNY: Thank you, Wen. You can see more of Wen Redmond’s work on her website, her blog, her YouTube channel and in the TSGNY exhibit Crossing Lines: The Many Faces of Fiber.

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Leisa Rich: Please Touch

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TSGNY: How do you describe your artistic process?

Leisa Rich:  My main artistic method is free-motion embroidery, which is done by dropping the feed dogs on a sewing machine (the teeth underneath the sewing foot that pull the fabric along while you sew) and using a special foot adapted for this purpose, effectively “drawing” with thread. I use various types of stitching methods: embroidery floss in the bobbin, heavy threads, tension play and more.  I’m able to push the stitch in unique ways.

"Happy Toadstool," 2011, 36” X 48” X 32”; repositionable fabric, felt, dyes, vinyl, thread, acrylic paint; free-motion stitching, hand-dyed and painted.

LR: My materials include dissolvable paper, sheets of glue, acrylic paint and vinyl. Many of these materials have just come on the market in the last few years, so possibilities are constantly opening up. In the future, I’m hoping to collaborate directly with the manufacturers.  The variety of manipulative methods and the wealth of new materials make free-motion embroidery endlessly exciting.

TSGNY: Did discovering these new materials alter your intent?

LR: No, I chose these materials because they were perfect for the concept I have been working with recently: human interaction. Viewers can play and reconfigure my components to form their own compositions and stories.

"Architects in Flux," 2010, 88" X 108"; repositionable fabric, vinyl, thread; free-motion stitching.

LR: The interactive pieces are clear vinyl stitched to white vinyl; sometimes I include acrylic paint and other colored vinyl or fabrics in the design. These pieces can be pulled off and repositioned by the viewer on special fabric backgrounds. The works are 2D as well as sculptural. Installation — creating my own interactive world — is my favorite way of presenting my work.

"Architects in Flux," 2010, 88" X 108" (interactive view).

TSGNY:  Was there an “aha!” moment when you knew this kind of interaction was something you wanted to explore, or was it a gradual evolution?

LR: I would say I have been intentionally moving toward more human interaction in my art for several years now. Fiber art is so tactile that it is a shame humans — who innately love using their very sensitive fingertips to touch and explore — are not allowed to experience art physically.

"No Sense Crying Over Spilled Milk: Altering the Course," 2010, 87" X 52"; vinyl, thread; free-motion stitching.

LR: When I was a small child I was deaf and spent considerable time in the hospital. My mother brought me beautiful Barbie clothes she made from her work suits. I loved the feeling of the satins, laces and nubby silks as I dressed my dolls. Living in that silence for so long made me crave human interaction; those early experiences, combined with the thrill of finger-painting in the hospital art room, led to a lifelong passion for all things textural and a need to touch.

"No Sense Crying over Spilled Milk: Altering the Course," 2010 (interactive view).

LR: In 2009 I had a solo installation exhibition, “Beauty From the Beast,” which featured a 25 foot by 20 foot “garden” made of the detritus of mankind, fabrics, free-motion stitching that also included lots of other mixed media and incorporated an assortment of fiber techniques such as quilting.

"Beauty From the Beast," 2009, 25' x 20' (dimensions variable). Mixed media: obtainium, fabrics, plastic drinking straws, vinyl; free-motion stitching, hand-dyed and painted, rolled, constructed, quilted, applique.

LR: There were pathways people could walk on in the garden; they could touch the bubble-wrap flowers and rearrange the “grass” rocks. However, that level of interaction was still not enough for me; once they were done, everything went back the way it was, so it was still “my” piece as opposed to “our” piece. The new work is much more interactive and the viewer has more of a stake in it.

"Beauty From the Beast," 2009, bubble-wrap flower bouquet.

TSGNY: Given your love of the textural and tactile, what other fiber processes have you explored?

LR: I have been an absolutely obsessed fiber artist since 1975. It’s hard to think of a fiber technique I haven’t explored since. I was a serious weaver for a number of years, which included dyeing with plants, spinning, basketry and more. I graduated from the University of Michigan in 1982 with a degree in Fibers.  I went on to become a designer of knitwear on both loom and knitting machine and a hat/ jewelry and wearable artist with a successful company designing for tv shows and stores, until I moved to the island of Kauai in 1998. I had incorporated free-motion stitching in many of these works but it was really then, due to the confines of living in a tiny island house with room only for a sewing machine, that I returned to stitching and started expanding my free-motion repertoire. At that time much of my work utilized mixed media and themes of women and children’s issues. When I went back for my Master of Fine Arts in Fibers at the University of North Texas in 2007, the questions I had to ask myself as an artist led to my present way of interacting with my viewer.

“(in)CONSEQUENTIAL,” 2007, dimensions of installation variable; plastic drinking straws rolled in dyed wool and sliced, stuffed, stitched, dyed wool amoeba forms; free-motion stitching, constructed, stuffed, rolled and sliced.

TSGNY:  Does your process pose any particular challenges?

LR: Well, the “do not touch” rule is still a pretty hard one to overcome. Most galleries and exhibitions are not comfortable with allowing viewers to “play” with a work. This limits the exposure of the audience; they are relegated to a passive role, which is not satisfying to me. I just completed a permanent installation piece for the Dallas Museum of Art’s new education center that will be completely interactive. Everyone will be allowed to enjoy it all of the time! I’m striving to get more of these kinds of commissions. I really love to take people to a happy place, in light of the often depressing and difficult world we live in.

TSGNY:  Are there any living artists who inspire you who you feel we should know about?

LR: Andy Goldsworthy’s installations are fleeting and lovely. I enjoy the way that he can interact with nature and then allow it to reclaim the works after he is done. His art makes it possible for humans to think of doing it themselves, creating their own sculptures as a method of self-expression without being intimidated by fancy materials or intimidating art classes.

TSGNY: Thank you, Leisa.

You can see more of Leisa’s work on her website, her blog, her teaching blog, and on Facebook.

"Beauty From the Beast," (2009); recycled plastic tablecloths, felt, vinyl; free-motion stitching, constructed mixed media.

 

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Jeanne Raffer Beck: Finding Ikigai in the Studio

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TSGNY: You call yourself a “mixed-media textile artist.” What does that encompass?

Jeanne Raffer Beck:  I currently use a variety of materials and processes in my work. Earlier in my artistic life I was passionate about crossing disciplines to gather and learn techniques; I imagined that eventually one would stand out and I would build a body of work around it. Fiber, more than any other medium I explored, captured my imagination with its tactile sensibilities and its versatility. Eventually I realized that I wanted the techniques and processes to emerge from my ideas.  I now select particular techniques for various series because they seem to best serve the concept behind the work.

Before 2007 my works were layered, textural whole-cloth wall-hangings that I called “interior landscapes” — think dense machine and hand embroidery meets surface-design-on-silk and layered sheers.  In 2007, I started to envision a series of threadwork constructions incorporating printed cut silks to suggest pages of books.  In my vision for this series, each piece would increasingly deconstruct linear blocks of text until the letterforms themselves would dance in space, free from the confines of words or meanings.

"Pages 4," 2009, 33” x 96” Habotai silk, acrylic paint, dyes, cotton thread. Silkscreened, cut, mounted, stitched and hung on handcrafted stainless steel hanger.

TSGNY: So you needed to develop a new textile process to support the theme of deconstructed text?

JRB: Yes. A few years earlier at Penland, Hollie Heller had introduced me to the use of gel mediums on paper and silks, which allow paper to be used like cloth and cloth to be more paper-like. That workshop planted important seeds that emerged when I decided to move my work away from the wall with the Pages series.  I screen-printed silks with a variety of texts, both mechanical and handwritten, and then cut the screen-printed fabrics apart into tiny rectangles. I composed and sandwiched the rectangles on water-soluble fabrics and then stitched grids over the surface. Once I removed the water-soluble material, the pieces appeared to float and cast beautiful shadows on the walls. The interplay of positive and negative space in these works are continuing to inspire new directions and ideas, but as my ideas for these works evolve, so do the materials I use to execute them.

A long-time appreciation for Olga De Amaral‘s gold-leafed weavings and El Anatsui‘s recycled constructions led me to begin working with gold leaf. Currently I am working on a series of dimensional constructions titled “Writing in Air” and “Fluttering Pages,” inspired by books, handwriting and fragments of printed texts. These incorporate acrylic painted tissues, and gold leaf applied to spun polyester fabric, which I manipulate and combine to make into dimensional pieces mounted on fiberglass screening or gold-leafed, painted canvas.

"Writing in Air," 2011, 24” x 48” Spun polyester, tissue, gold leaf, stretched canvas frame. Painted, collaged, cut, manipulated and mounted on gold-leafed canvas.

JRB: These written language-inspired works consider the effects of time and the gradual disappearance of details of personal memories, both in aging and after an individual’s death. Fragments of documents, inscriptions or histories of individual lives are often all that survive over time.

Explorers have discovered exquisite, ancient cave paintings but know little to nothing about the individuals or cultures that created them. An ancient burial shroud covered with remnants of handwritten text was discovered in Egypt, but linguists can only partially translate the forgotten language in which it was written. Old letters, documents and journals reveal fragments of the lives of those who lived long ago; we are left to imagine the rest.

The bits and pieces that survive from individual and cultural histories have also led me to notice and appreciate the effects of contemporary aging and deterioration. I gather images of urban graffiti, decaying walls, rust and peeling paint. In addition, my interest in handwritten texts has grown. In an increasingly computer-driven age of text messaging, e-mail and social media, handwritten documents are virtually disappearing. Yet each person’s handwriting is as distinct and individualized as a fingerprint.

My personal desire is to translate the rhythms and energies of writing, dance, music and poetry to visual surfaces. I am passionate about immersing myself in studio work and enjoy the immensely fertile and creative waves of inspiration that it brings. Engaging in creative process is my way of making meaning in life. The Japanese have a word, ikigai, that does not have an exact English translation but roughly means, “a reason to wake up in the morning.”

"Crumpled Page," 2011, 48” x 48” Spun polyester, silk, gold leaf and stretched canvas frame. Cut silk letterforms applied to stitched polyester and mounted to gold-leafed, painted canvas.

TSGNY: That’s a wonderful concept. While we’re on the subject of motivation and inspiration, are there any living artists who inspire you whose work you’d like us to know about?

JRB: Two contemporary artists, Yves Leterme and Monica Dengo, who incorporate gestural calligraphy in their work. This loose, expressive form of writing is something I want to pursue further in my own practice. The energy in their mark-making is palpable and while Yves’ work is slightly more reminiscent of traditional calligraphy, both artists focus on the gestural energy of handwriting and the beauty of marks made by the human hand.

TSGNY: Thank you, Jeanne.

You can see more of Jeanne Raffer Beck’s work here and read her blog here.

"The Fluttering Pages of My Life 2; Remembered Address Numbers" (detail of a work in progress), 36” x 36” Fiberglass screen, polyester, gold leaf. Painted, screen-printed, cut and stitched.

 

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