sharpandpointedobjects

Global warming...

2011-03-18T12:33:00.000-07:00

I have been busy - but today, the last day of Spring Break, I finally found some time to post these images from our recent 4- person Faculty Show, Oddly Wound Up at the Lawton gallery earlier this semester. These works are a continuation of the bathing suits, of which I've posted a couple here previously. This is a set of 5 knitted bikinis designed to follow specific locational knitting traditions; maps and ephemeral research materials are displayed on bulletin boards behind the suits, so people can see where the traditions came from, and get a sense of what the weather might be like in a place where knitting would become a really solid part of the cultural identity - and how global warming could threaten the production of material culture.

If you're from a really small remote place yourself, you'll probably enjoy the fact that Fair Isle is a tiny place in the middle of the North Sea, but their knitting traditions are still prominently represented in fashion today.

Cowichan bikini, "The Dude" based upon native interpretations of Fair Isle knitting brought over from Europe by the Sisters of St. Anne in 1860.

Aran, Guernsey Gansey and Fair Isle 'kinis.

Aran installed next to Cowichan, with maps mounted behind each.

Guernsey Gansey Tankini with Fair Isle string and Nordkini in background.

Guernsey Gansey Tankini and Fair Isle share a map.

Nordkini.

Map and Nordkini.

Highlighting the Fair Isle String, inspired by Elizabeth Zimmermann, and the Guernsey Gansey Tankini, instructions and visuals from "Knitting the Old Way."

Aran and Cowichan.

Map dots, ephemera highlighted.

Just showing off the skirt on the Fair Isle string - Okay, I'm pretty proud of that one. And it was fun to make!

Stabbing, cutting, boiling, slashing, ripping and burning

2011-02-08T08:15:00.000-08:00

Today one of my students confessed an attraction to a particular scene in Jeffrey Eugenides' The Virgin Suicides. "When I read about the girl who baked rat poison into the pie and then her grandmother ate it I couldn't stop laughing." It's only funny in context - the girl had meant to commit suicide and instead had committed homicide. This led to a discussion of a calendar my mom gave me a couple Christmases ago - Edward Gorey's Neglected Murderesses. My favorite murderess was December - a woman stabbed her daughter-in-law to death with a crochet hook, then used the hook to craft the dead woman's shroud in a snowflake pattern. Death in textiles is a pretty common thing - Freddie Robbin's Knitted Homes of Crime is a good contemporary example, but there's a lot of death portrayed in the Bayeux Tapestry too - headlessness, impaled horses, really bloody kinds of death. And what better place to portray violence than in a textile? After all, everything textile art is, is made with a sharp and pointed object - we wield blades, stab at fabric and yarn, boil pots of color up with caustic solutions and acids, rip stuff up, spend hours twisting and tying and manipulating things to our will. And for those who are faced with a mystery fiber, there's always that search for a match - set it on fire and the make-up of any yarn is revealed. Just yesterday I found a photograph I'd purchased of a man shearing a sheep - one wonders if this is where Sweeney Todd got all his ideas about how to make a man into a pie?

Anyway, there's much research to be done on why in particular women do this sort of thing, and why men in particular often show a tendency to feel uncomfortable in the Textiles studio. Is it that it's too girly, or is it that they prefer violence as a spectator sport? And why does it bother my spouse when I knit during NFL games on television?

New stuff I'm looking at now.

2010-08-06T09:20:00.000-07:00

I took a little mini trip recently and visited some artists who I've known for a very very long time - since the beginning of what we might call "my art career." It's always a good recharge to the batteries to go back and have a talk about art with people who know you very well, and whose aesthetic is both familiar, and similar to your own. One of my artist friends teaches in an even more remote location than I do. He used to have a lot of time to make art up there, but lately has been distracted by just generally life. I could say the same for myself. Anyway, after I left the artists, and came home, I realized I had not shared with any of them some of the great stuff that I've been finding lately and that has me often thinking of each of them individually. So here's a quick tour of a few things that make me want to call other artists up and share. (Even though, with my aversion to telephones, I don't.) I'm not advocating any retail therapy or endorsing any product - these suggestions are just for Idea Harvest (i.e. inspiration.)

Gyongy Laky's wooden typography sculpture

Gyongy Laky. She's wonderful.

"Man Shops Globe" on Sundance Channel (or from Yidio /Netflix), jewelry from the Sundance catalogue (not all of it, but certainly some of it), Habu Textiles (yarn).

The darling goat farmers, Josh and Brent

The Fabulous Beekman Boys on PlanetGreen (Discovery) for their goats, cheese, and connection to both Martha Stewart AND "Farmer John," cover tunes EP from the Old '97's, Raphael Saadiq, felt, Selvedge Magazine.

Bunsen, a Berner, looking for treats

Old letters as raw materials for art, and my dog. Yes! My dog. He's authentic, visually compelling, intense, and has a real attract/repulse aspect to himself that is something I think more artists should aspire to in their works.

Little Peregrine drawing with caption

On the curious to see what happens list of interests we have Work of Art contestant Peregrine Honig (I like her pre-Bravo work, eg. image left of the donkey - and am curious about her sculpture now that the bastard Jerry Saltz has suggested that work was more compelling. Since Peregrine is a successful lingerie store owner from Kansas City, I can see the 3-d thing happening, and if they let her near a sewing machine...well, I'm interested to see what happens next, as they like to say at Bravo.) Also, I think baskets are going to break in the craft world in a minute. The last contemporary basket book was published about 9 years ago, as far as I can tell, but they just finally came out with 500 baskets. And there's an important basket show of selected works from the Lieberman's collection at MAD Museum thru Sept. 12 in NYC. That usually heralds a big re-awakening. I'm a little ahead of the curve on that one, having found an old copy of Ed Rossbach's "The New Basketry" last winter and well, you know what happened there.

Random Image Time!

2010-07-12T15:15:00.000-07:00

Sometimes people ask me what I'm working on, or what my work looks like. It's pretty much all over the place this year, but I have some newly generated images of recent (within 2 yrs) work, so I thought I'd go ahead and post for feedback. This would be the more sculpture side of my work, since I think I've been fairly good about posting those wee recycled baskets as they get into shows (except the one here, which is in Pittsburgh right now, "Cream Puff".)

If you've been paying attention, you may notice that no progress has been made beyond the initial 2 Global Warming Swimsuits, but I've been put on notice that I will be in the faculty show in January, so I will be working up at least one more, but hopefully up to 3 more, of those in the next few months. Anyway, give me your feedback on this batch of images, I trust your opinions.

The men of Women's Art History

2010-05-26T19:26:00.000-07:00

We're on day three of Summer session I, Women in the Visual Arts, wherein I teach 17 people everything I can think of that falls into the category of women in the visual arts. I decided to mix it up this summer session and teach each week by media. So this week, week one, we have an intro to art history and we cover some Painters. We looked at some famous paintings with women in them (Manet's Luncheon on the Grass, and Olympia; Gainsborough's Mr and Mrs Andrews) and talked about who the women were in real life, and how they were portrayed. Then we began to look at some women painters - I start in the 20th century, because, well, I only liked Modern to Contemporary in art history when I was in college and have no authority to talk about the oldies like Judith Leister or Artemesia G. Not that I don't toss their names in the mix now and then...but we start with Georgia O'Keeffe. She's a good counterpoint to an essay I assign from Old Mistresses, which is called Crafty Women and the hierarchy of the Arts. The essay talks about how it was seen as okay for young ladies to paint flowers, since they themselves should be so like flowers, in an ideal world. So then I hit them with Georgia, and how shockingly unladylike everyone felt her flowers were. Today we talked about Frida Kahlo and self-portraiture, the whole idea of women's art as autobiography and so forth. Tomorrow we'll head on into the mid-century and talk Krasner and Frankenthaler. So: those husbands. They're important but as I was walking back to my office I started to think on what a bunch of schmucks these women painters wound up with! Steiglitz: old, probably dirty old man, big time sexist. Diego Rivera: old, fat, drunk, philanderer - he slept with her sister! - with giant ego, probably let Frida stay in prison a wee bit too long after Trotsky got shot. Pollock: well, we all saw the movie; nothing's going to change the historical fact that he got wasted and drove a car into a tree killing himself and his girlfriend's buddy while his wife was in Europe trying to restart her own career. Is it my imagination or do Lee Krasner's paintings start to feel like huge sighs of abstract expressionist relief around 1956? Well, they're not the first or last women to fall for men of power but not much moral fiber. Strangely enough...the sculptors of the same time period who we study next week (Louise and Louise) don't have anything near this kind of passionate destructive taste in men. Their husbands are quiet types who have their own separate lives (Nevelson leaves hers, a dull sort of businessman; Bourgeois' was art historian Robert Goldwater, who specialized in African Art)...the more contemporary ones have absolutely nothing interesting going on in their love lives (I don't even know if they're married! It's not addressed in their Art 21 clips.) But, we swing back into talking husbands when we return to two dimensions with the photographers in week three - to be fair they do share time with performance and video artists so we have to talk about Yoko Ono, who is impossible to examine without her husband inching into the frame. (Granted, many would switch that - if only we could talk about John without Yoko. I'm not one of those, though.) Week four is this mishmash of other women that have influenced art from behind the scenes, or in a more abstract way, like Schiaparelli, champion of Surrealism-to-wear, Peggy Guggenheim, and Edith Halpert (who was Edith Halpert? The woman who sold folk art to Rockefeller for Colonial Williamsburg, curated the art of Rockefeller Center, and who also dealt Jacob Lawrence when no one dealt in art by black Americans, among other things.) But we also in this week address Gala, the front half of Gala Dali: guess who she married? Topping the tale of Dante Gabriel Rossetti digging up his wife, artist Elizabeth Siddal, to get his poems back, the best story of surrealism is perhaps what happened to Gala when she died, inconveniently, in the wrong house, in the wrong country. They dressed her, sat her up in the back of her limo, and drove her home, over the border, to avoid the legal difficulties she'd caused by not expiring in the proper location. I'm sorry, but I'd have to advise anyone looking for a husband to avoid marrying an artist. And my apologies to those of you who get this memo too late.

Worth it.

2010-04-18T14:37:00.000-07:00

Eleven a.m. Thursday in Whitewater the Wisconsin Women's Studies Consortium began it's meeting, which is the kick-off point for the annual co-conferences. The meeting itself is enough to turn one's brain to composting, but what follows is really a pressure cooker of ideas that do indeed need thinking about and acting upon. It's academia times ten, teeming with new ideas and a general push to reexamine everything under the sun. Imagine my delight when I found, on Friday morning, that I had a choice between seeing new art from one of our graduates (Danica Oudeans) or going to a presentation on the godmother of knitting in the round, Elizabeth Zimmermann. I decided to find Danica, see if I could look at the work, (which I did, and I did, and it was incredible) and then head off to the EZ presentation.

The presenters, Colleen McFarland and Kathryn Parks, were both from UW-Eau Claire and gee whiz I wish I worked with them; I'm pretty sure we'd be knitting and geeking out worse even than the knitting and geeking that goes on amongst my faculty/staff/spouse knitting group at UWGB. Elizabeth Zimmermann, it turns out, is really fascinating. The reason people in Wisconsin should know about her is that she lived and worked for many years in Shorewood (outside Milwaukee - her husband Arnold was a brewer for Schlitz) and then moved to a school house in Pittsfield, which I hear is near Wausau. She was worthy of presentation at a Women's Studies conference because a lot of what she did was amazing in terms of "her time." And also, with the upsurge of knitting going on these days, we owe her a lot of credit for keeping it from dying completely in those dark days back in the 70's and 80's (the Knit Your Own Creche days, which gave way to the Cosby Sweater decade.)

Here's a few things you should know about EZ: She hated sewing seams and engineered sweaters knit in the round - this was so rare that Vogue took her knit in the round fair isle pull over and rewrote it to be knit flat, causing the makers to sew some really crazy kinds of seams when, if knit as written, you'd be sewing 2 armholes, or something. They paid her at Vogue simply by giving her credit and noting that if you wanted the yarn for the sweater you could write away to her for it. She was a yarn dealer first, but her marketing is what we know her for best these days: the Opinionated Knitter newsletters; her television show on WPT, "Knitting Without Tears"; and her knitting camps. Knitting camp used to be held through UW-Extension, but the students who went to get college credit couldn't be graded by EZ, since she didn't have an advanced degree - they'd send in some professor who may know nothing about knitting to grade these projects. Eventually, when she moved to the schoolhouse, knitting camp became a week away at a hotel conference facility - but Parks and McFarland argued plausibly that this was a moment of feminist awakening. Many of the campers in the early years had never been away from their homes without their parents, husbands, or children. They'd literally never been by themselves! And so, they learned in that week, how to be independent, and how to think for themselves on issues big and small, while also improving their skills and knowledge of that harmless occupation of women everywhere, knitting. (Why yes, you CAN still go to knitting camp! )

I think people liked EZ on television because she had a folksy manner but was clearly a British woman of a certain age, and therefore, was never seen as a radical. I think of her as the knitting version (with different accent) of Julia Child. They had a similar approach with their subject matter, which was to demystify the process. My first encounter with EZ was at St. Vincent DePaul in Green Bay. I was in used books. I saw one called "The Knitters Almanac" and picked it up to leaf through - the author had two sets of instructions, the proper instructions and some others called The Pithy Instructions. I couldn't believe it - those pithy instructions were for me! Plus the items in the book had that great sort of vintage, but maybe not, feeling about them. I read a lot of the book before I knit a funny little dutch-girl hat to practice knitting on double-points and doing short-rows. She really liked wool, so I liked her. In the talk I saw on Thursday, the presenters made it clear that no one was knitting with wool when EZ was on the air at PBS, so she was marketing the yarn she imported from Iceland and Great Britain with everything she did - it was all wool, and she believed even babies deserved to wear soft lambs wool instead of nasty acrylic. The really sad moment of the presentation was when we found out no one knows what's happened to the footage of that television show. If you have access to dusty archives at your local PBS station, please look for it!

Anyway, I learned more about EZ when one of my students did a good research paper on her a couple years ago. The student, Tamarra, was troubled that the sources she was using were all written by EZ herself. So, I told her to call up School House Press and talk to them. She called, and wound up interviewing EZ's daughter Meg Swensen. The presenters had also taken that route, and are going to be publishing and article on EZ's life for Wisconsin History Magazine. (So watch for that!)

Meanwhile, if you're in my Thursday afternoon class, be on alert that this Thursday we're closing up early so I (and maybe you!) can run back down to Appleton to see Jerilea Zempel at Lawrence. Zempel is responsible for the first of the Tank Cozies (others have been made since). Take a look at this for a good intro. I was her fan even before the Colbert Report!

Who owns it?

2010-01-11T08:49:00.000-08:00

Funny how you can forget about something you made right up until the moment you suspect it's been stolen. We get so weird about "our stuff" even though we're taught constantly (in the liberal arts environment anyway) that there are no original ideas.

On Saturday I was just pulling up to a baby shower with majority art/craft attendees when I got a pix message on my phone from one of my former students, the talented Chicago designer Cory Allen (Linsmeyer.) He was at Urban Outfitters and saw a particular scarf that reminded him, and me, of something I'd "invented" a few years ago, that he himself modeled for the post. You can see it on knitty, I sold the pattern. Last time I looked on Ravelry 128 people had used the pattern to make their own, with some unbelievably cool/funny innovations. I love the idea of people using the pattern to make their own. What I didn't love was the idea that Urban Outfitters was selling versions made in the third world that look a lot like mine.

And this was the second time I'd felt UO was ripping one of my ideas off. The first, in the early 2000's they started selling a cross-stitch kit with a particular word on it - a word that, when I stitched it on a heart-shaped doily, prompted a more gentle citizen to demand that my work be immediately removed from a Seattle Art Museum exhibit, on grounds that it was insulting to embroiderers, and obscene besides. I made the thing in 1998, it was at SAM in 2001. I bear no ill will towards the person who is selling these kits to UO, because at least, it's a person and she gets credit! Plus she's also developed the idea far past the point I did. (Swordsmith /artist Phillip Baldwin owns my original work, we traded for a cast-iron sink.)

Back to me in my car getting this pix message: I immediately begin venting as soon as I get into the baby shower. It was the perfect setting for commiseration. And for gathering information. Jenna, talented designer and Etsy seller informed me that there was a seller called Yokoo who made chain scarves that looked like mine too. (On closer inspection, Yokoo's are crochet, and FABULOUS. Buy from him if you need a readymade item, because they're vastly superior to anything you'll find a UO.)

But here's the thing: if you go to knitty and look at my pattern, you'll see that it's been up since 2005, and that I openly credit two other designers, Teva Durham and Marc Jacobs for inspiring me. Then, if we were to open my email in-box you'd find a lot of email from people who have made the scarves, and innovated on my original idea. What makes mine different is that it's felted after it's knitted. The Urban Outfitters chain looks a lot more like Teva Durham's from Loop d Loop. Who's ripping off whom, here? And what's the time limit on a knitted chain going into public domain?

But just beware all you young hipsters: they're stealing your cool and selling it back to you. Even cool that might have at one time been generated by an old academic thread-head such as myself. No one seems safe!

I'm reminded of an unpleasant experience one of my other talented former students, Michael Cepress, had the week he was due to start graduate school at the University of Washington (that MFA program in Textiles is now defunct, sadly.) He and his brother were at Bulldog News, near the campus in Seattle, and he chanced to see the cover of FiberArts magazine...with "his work" on it. Meanwhile, back in Green Bay, I got my copy in the mail and felt deep nausea myself; it was a pair of nearly transparent silk organza jeans, which appeared identical to the pair Mike had stitched up for his senior show for undergraduate school. But these were by someone else, a woman, who wasn't talking about the same issues as Mike was at all, and they were made far away, and nearly simultaneously. There was no real issue of one copying the other, but, there was in that brief moment the horror of knowing for sure that your "original" idea could at any moment turn out to be the same as someone else's.

So, there lies the rub: you can't always be sure if you've been ripped off, or if you're just one of many who felt the universe pulse in a particular direction at a particular time. Best advice: just keep your own work authentic to who you are, be careful where you spend your money, and make rather than shop.

Handmade Nation revisited!

2010-01-02T12:54:00.000-08:00

One of my first blog posts was about a visit we got from Faythe Levine, one of the film makers responsible for the documentary Handmade Nation. I got a copy of the book, which she signed, at the opening of the show she'd curated, Craftivism, for the Lawton Gallery on our campus. The film had not yet been released, so I spent over a year watching premier announcements pass me by, reviews get posted in other places, and so forth, without actually seeing the film. I talked about it a lot though. And I looked through the book (at the pictures, anyway.) Yesterday I finally saw the film, on a bootleg DVD given to me by artist Christopher Cannon. (My guess is Chris applied the DIY philosophy with making copies of movies - he's a printmaker, after all and thinks in terms of 'editions.' I do plan on getting the library to buy a real copy for our permanent collection!) Okay, so anyway I was procrastinating on writing some new quizzes for 2D and found the copy in my book bag, so I plugged it in and watched it. Then I got out my book and read the essays, finally. And now I really want to talk about it like never before.

First of all, I will indeed be showing this in my Women in the Visual Arts course and in the Women, Art and Image course I just created (to be taught when? We aren't sure.) I know that my colleague Jennifer Mokren showed it in her Freshman seminar course on craft, and I'm pretty sure Sarah Detweiler has shown it in her Modern American Culture course, but the feminist aspects need to be teased out in context of a Women's Studies course. Even if I only show Whitney Lee vacuuming, this will bring all that dusty art history into some sharp focus! Well, as sharp a focus as a shag rug can offer, anyway. I think it's also important to show the entrepreneurial spirit of these women, and men. (I love the guys from BuyOlympia.com who say, artists should be making, and we will sell on their behalf - cashing in on the impulse so many have to make things, without making anything themselves, but still using their own unique skill-set to support something they thought was cool.) But the story time and again is of a crafty girl, working in a cubicle, who needed some outlet for those old creative impulses, and now makes unique things by hand for a living. The alternate story is of the girl, frustrated and bored by the boundaries placed upon her by art school, who strikes out and commits crimes of cuteness and winds up wildly successful by making mittens, not art. Who doesn't want to be that girl? It's so alternatively intellectual.

The other great thing that comes up time and again, making the film also worth showing to my Textiles students, is that the things these women and men are doing are actually kind of easy to learn but difficult to master - Jenny Hart talking about how she thought embroidery would be tedious and awful and now she feels it's better than drugs, for instance. Or Nikki McClure reflecting on her first cut-paper piece and how crude it seems now, given all she's learned by doing so many since then. I can say to my students that practice makes perfect, but it's such an easy thing to dismiss. Better to show examples, especially examples of people who's work one can admire in the contemporary context.

I think Handmade Nation will become sort of a period piece, and probably soon. We don't know what's on the horizon. Even before the credits roll at the end of the film, it self-consciously asks the question, "How many bunnies and deer and birds and owls and mushrooms can the world support?" Fear of co-optation is also expressed (see any Urban Outfitters store to find cheap mass-produced home goods sporting bunnies, deer, birds, owls, and mushrooms as well as cross-stitch, latch-hook, and applique.) I'm reminded of my old drapes-shop manager (Sheli, an original punk rock veteran) telling her teenage daughter, "They're stealing your cool and selling it back to you!" Since I'm old, I also recall Madonna and Cyndi Lauper wearing vintage "merry widows" and crinolines, and that being very original, but then about a year later, being able to pick up similar brand new versions at the Everett Mall back in the '80's. Now they sell Halloween costumes with all the 80's girl standard bits, $24.99. I wonder if they'll have Indie Craft Girl costume eventually?

Finally, I have to say that for me personally, this film made me lament being born in 1964. Twenty years earlier, I could have been the ultimate Girl Scout who grew up, found feminism and embroidered for Judy Chicago's Dinner Party. Twenty years later, I could have been one of this generation of shameless stitchers. As it was, I was actually in the right place at the wrong time. I have a clear memory of covertly knitting while sitting in my rental in Ballard, the Norwegian neighborhood in Seattle, in 1986. I was working on a sweater that was beige with dusty rose and country blue flowers - very Laura Ashley. I knew lots of musicians, artists, budding software developers, and the like - all destined to become successful once the "scene" hit Seattle. I wouldn't have been caught dead knitting in front of any of them, nor did I ever have the will to finish that sweater. I sewed a few of my own clothes because my roommate Roberta made all her own, and we had a sewing machine set up in our dining room, but after I no longer lived with Roberta, my sewing machine only came out once in a while and never in front of anyone. It makes me sad now to think of it. I thought I was behind the times, and totally uncool, and a loser for having no money and no creative ambition. Here, it turns out I may have been ahead of the trend - but you know, it's tough to sell pastels to punks until they're really really ready for them.

New Year, new work.

2010-01-01T10:25:00.000-08:00

Last night was the end of 2009, and because we're old, and everyone was grumpy, I headed down to the studio for a little while to see if I could shake my funk. I am working on a round-ish blue basket, and last night was also a Blue Moon. Once in a blue moon, you get a funny idea with which to entertain yourself. So I worked on this basket, and might have finished it, but the whole time I was stitching away tediously I was trying to decide whether I wanted it to be my last work of 2009 or my first work of 2010. In the end I left two small seams on the very bottom unsewn, and I plan to finish them today, a little later. Officially, the Blue Moon Basket will be dated 2010. It's a very plain form, a little Modernist, even - and I'm hoping that will draw the viewer's attention to the intricacies of the materials (more vintage millinery stuff). The first piece to be shown in 2010 will actually be Cream Puff, as it goes off to Pittsburgh in February. I'll post photos of both baskets soon.

(What is it with me and Pittsburgh? Two of my most influential undergrad mentors grew up there, and now, I can't seem to get rejected from a show there. I guess I should start considering a visit. It seems to be a spiritual home of some sort.)

December? What?

2009-12-09T14:54:00.000-08:00

Well, here it is coming on Christmas. I have had the feeling I should be knitting to cope with a lot of family stress, but I can't actually get myself to pick up the needles. I don't have a project I'm interested in starting. It's empty-page syndrome, only in knitting terms. At the beginning of November I had the opportunity to talk at a local coffee shop about activist knitting. They put a big article about it in the paper, and the sponsoring shop, Iris, was very good about publicizing. So we went from what was planned as a talk for 20 to a talk for 120. All women, mostly over the age of about 40 or so; not my usual crowd! I don't know if they appreciated the part where I talk about how useful knitted boobs are (TitBits prosthesis for breast cancer survivors, but also there's a group in the UK who knits them to teach breast-feeding to new moms.) Anyway, I think it went okay, but they were a practical bunch, and it was difficult to tell if I was delivering vital and inspiring information, or if they were just happy they got free snacks since my talk was "not their thing." People in Wisconsin are so polite, often to a fault. It's eerie.

Anyway, after the talk you'd think I'd be doing some charity knitting, but I'm not, and I think it's because I've felt (selfishly) that this year I needed some charity myself. Thanksgiving was pretty dreadful... followed by day after day in which we got good news for 2010! And buoying me up as always were my terrific students, and successful alumni. (What would I do without my kids? They actually react when I talk, unlike those audience members from my public talk. I'll take an open and honest scowl over a politely raised eyebrow any day.)

I am vowing then, to start my charity knitting blitz in 2010. If Obama is sending more troops to Afghanistan, I'm going to send more stuff there too, through afghans for Afghans.

Now if only the Boy wears the hat I barely managed to knit him for Christmas, I can say 2009 ended on an up-note.

The power of rejection...

2009-10-14T12:59:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I posted. I got a little distracted when school started, as usual. To update, my knitted swimsuits as comment on global warming didn't get into the show in Minneapolis. But I'm okay with it, because I knew even as I was sending it off that I needed to regroup and develop my presentation methods. These are really conceptual works of art, though they use history and craft as the media for the message. Yesterday in critique one of my intro students had a highly conceptual project and we spent a bit of time talking out how her presentation could inform the viewers. Even by the time she put her name on them, she'd begun to develop a label to provide a few clues for the viewer as to context, content, and material relationships. Pretty sophisticated, given that her theme was "Winter."

So, here are some images, and you can tell me what you think you're looking at. I am pretty sure I've missed the mark as far as communicating a darn thing with these, though, my craftsmanship is strong, I did my homework, and with some gentle nudges, I think the meaning will be clear. As I develop the project, hopefully you'll see how this unfolds. John thinks I need to render them as drawings, I'm considering maps, almanac information, and other didactic devices. We'll see. In the meantime, I have to finish that music stand they'll be auctioning off at the Green Bay Civic Symphony performance in November. An artist's work is never done...

2009-09-07T11:59:00.000-07:00

A long time ago now, one of my readers said to put more in my blog about Man and I cooking. We've had a great weekend of meals, a good combo of farmer's market, garden, excellent grocery deals (which we both delight in) and the newfound freedom we are experiencing since one of our eaters is now off to college (that would be Boy. We still have dog, but as a kibbleterian, he rarely comes to the table.) One of the reasons I guess I don't write too often about cooking as a use for the sharp and pointed objects is that our knives, while pointed, seem to have become the opposite of sharp.

Last night though, we did use skewers, and they obviously qualify. We made kabobs. This wasn't Man's idea - too much standing at the grill turning for his tastes. And although he says he can't learn to cook without a recipe, he did look at the things I was putting out for marinade and indicate I needed "an acid." I knew this...but the vinegar gets put on high shelves, and I need either chair or Man to help out. Because of Boy's aversion to mustard in all forms, I put in a generous dollop of Grey Poupon, apple cider vinegar, garlic, Worchestershire, fresh oregano and rosemary from the porch, and olive oil. We were marinating beef tenderloin chunks. Stupidly, we'd had a discussion at the grocery about whether or not we should buy a $14.00 piece of beef tenderloin. I was against it, ultimately proving myself pennywise and pound foolish, because later we spent a good deal more for the two "steaks" of same kind of meat in a tiny package, and actually we both agreed we'd be satisfied with about half the beef per kabob - since the things also had small eggplant, small zucchini, oyster mushrooms, red peppers and green peppers (veg just got oil, salt, pepper and garlic to coat). After dinner Man pointed out that we could eat those kabobs a minimum of 5 more times before the end of farmer's market/garden season and consume the whole big tenderloin for very little money per meal. Sharp and pointed, and quite the little home economist is Man.

Anyway, since most of my adult life I've been a financial vegetarian, I'm biding my time before I spring the Bathing Rama on him. I think once he finds out how cheap tofu is, and how you don't even need a very sharp knife to cut it, he might quit this nonsense about huge chunks of beef. I mean, given where we live, those are our neighbors he's talking about.

pointing a camera

2009-08-07T08:00:00.000-07:00

So, I've spent the last few weeks knitting some pieces I hope to enter in a show at the Textile Center of Minnesota. Returning to an old tendency of mine, they are objects based on clothing. Funny how there are these recurring themes over the course of a career - but often I find conceptual art ideas are best presented with reference to the commonplace. I'll post some pictures presently...but first I have to make the images. And to do that, I have to consider a few things, like, do I buy a mannequin form and present them on false human form or do I find models? The drawback to models is, I didn't regard any sizing when creating my "garments" - I'm not sure they'll fit a real human, or if I'd need a set of real humans of different sizes, or given that they are really made to be less than comfortable looking, if I'd lose the friends I could recruit for the project! Also, time is a factor - in all things art, the deadline is king.

My plan is to attempt to first photograph them flat, or, search my vast hanger collection for a simple, elegant hanging solution for a 2 piece swimsuit prone to stretching, and also check out how they might work on my existing display form (which is tiny and only goes to the hip, with a bar to contend with below.) The next cheapest option is an inflatable display mannequin I can get (with cloth cover) for $20.00 plus shipping. These are sort of nifty inventions, for people who do trade shows and the like. The drawback to the inflatable is that I could see the shiny plastic through the cloth in the sales photo, so, I know I'm going to have to make an adjustment to the form so that the work will

look decent, and the form won't distract from the art. I also wonder how to secure it so it won't tip when the art is on it - I need to be hands-free. The last option is to invest about $60.00 in a fiberglas female torso form, which is more of a long-term option, but I feel confident that the fiberglas option is also more likely to be used again in the future (loaned out) and also is a sure re-sale item if I choose to get rid of it. It's a bit shiny, as well, so it'll need a coat of matte spray paint as well.

This is where the grant cycles fail me. I can't wait until school is in session to ask for money to buy these necessities for photographing my work, even though my institution supports purchase of materials related to scholarship (they bought me the camera, for instance) and the cost of the form is well within even shrinking state budgets.

Smashing, isn't it?

2009-06-13T08:38:00.001-07:00

So here're some images from my dining room table, illustrating the wrong way to treat a work of art. I was all excited to get into Fiber Directions, finally, because throughout my career it's been a show that really seemed to be a benchmark for the serious fiber professional. This year's award winner, in fact, is someone who's work I show to my students, knitting Adrian Sloane. (This work also shows up in any of my knitting activism talks. So kudos to A. Sloane!)

The piece I had in the show (basket called Elk Cove) apparently made it there okay, and shows up in one installation shot on the Wichita Center for Art website. It doesn't look like the piece suffered any hardships in getting to Wichita. That show closed on the 16th of May, and all work was to be mailed back by the 29th. I got the box containing Elk Cove back on June 6. For two weeks I'd been saying to Man, "Hey, I wonder where my work is. That show in Wichita closed on the 16th." Then one day Man came in from the outdoors and said, "Weren't you waiting for a package? There's a really smashed box on the porch addressed to you." I, of course, thought that he was joking - this is the kind of joke he pulls on me frequently. But, he didn't have that weird little look on his face that tips me off to his deceptions...and there was, in fact, a totally smashed box on the porch with my name on it. It contained totally smashed artwork, underneath a wrinkled copy of the catalogue, with my packing materials ON TOP of the basket, not around the piece as they'd been when it was sent. Clearly, they have monkeys working in the back room in Wichita. And they assume no liability, naturally.

Let us contrast then, the work that was returned to me from the Luke and Eloy Gallery in Pittsburgh, PA. The director, Brigitte Martin, contacted me to confirm the address, and noted that it would be sent with signature confirmation, due to arrive on a specific date. The package arrived a couple days early, and in perfect condition. And she invited me to post work on their website. Pittsburgh: the city that gave me two of my favorite professors from Art school, also gives me my new favorite place to show.

Derailed by life!

2009-05-28T08:53:00.000-07:00

I've only been working two sharp and pointed objects lately, a pair of #8 Silvalume knitting needles. I'm incubating art ideas and coping with the fact I'm dreading studio clean up in the basement by knitting a baby blanket for my nephew and his fiance, who are expecting a baby in January. It's a bit weird to become someone's great aunt when I've never been a mom, but since it's worked out fairly well to be just a regular aunt-aunt, I am not very nervous about the impending "great." (It's very fun to see my mother freaked out about becoming a great grandmother. Deja vu from when she freaked out about becoming a grandmother!)

The blanket I'm knitting is something I'm just making up. It's all yarn from another sort of started but not completed project - last summer a woman from the Cancer Center in Green Bay contacted me about knitting artisan chemo caps to commemorate their opening. I ordered up some yarn, started making caps (finished a couple I modified from this pattern on knitty.com) and never heard from her again...so I have the two caps and they sit on a shelf in my laundry room closet awaiting the opportunity to be sent off to someone in chemotherapy - I don't know if I'd call them "artisan." And the leftover yarn is going into a baby blanket. I don't know about the karma of it all - but I do know I really wanted to talk about design for the hats, wanting to make the best chemo caps ever, and this seemed to be beyond the volunteer coordinator's ability - I think she just wanted them to be funky, I wanted them to be attractive but well designed and above all, functional. (I'm guessing they found a different source for the caps, since as I said she never contacted me, and I hope it was a group somehow connected with Green Bay's best yarn shop, Monterey Yarns.) Ideally, I would have liked to design the caps, dye the yarn, knit the caps and really do it right start to finish - but that seems like a really nice full-time job.

The problem with being an academic is that many things go unattended to summer-to-summer. It's like I'm always being confronted with what I didn't do the last summer. Summer is basically one long to-do list of things to make and fix and arrange and record, so that during the school year, I something to report on to show I'm worth paying (besides that teaching thing.) Already this year I'm going to probably miss a deadline for a book I feel I should be in, but I'm having issues with the weather making the house too dark to shoot an image of a particular wearable, which I have to be wearing in order for it to make sense, and Man runs out of patience for these projects. I don't know why he doesn't have hours to follow me around our house with my camera, looking for neutral walls with adequate light! I guess it would help if we didn't have art on all our walls. I'm so totally blowing this deadline. Sigh. I guess I should learn how to use the timer on my camera, and do the self-portrait thing all the photo kids are doing these days.

Pittsburgh show

2009-05-05T12:06:00.000-07:00

Review on blog from Pittsburgh show at Luke and Eloy. Also, goodish pictures of some of the other work, showing (I think) that I'm in very good company.

Lazy pays off

2009-04-22T11:24:00.001-07:00

Today I was surprised to hear from the head of the National Basketry Organization. Apparently, a woman who runs a gallery in Portland OR saw the images of the Web and Flow show in Minneapolis, and selected 15 baskets to put in her gallery for the duration of the National Basketry Organization annual conference this summer. My basket, Lazy Amphora, was one of those chosen! (For those keeping track: 300 entered Web and Flow, 80 got in. Of those 80, 15 were chosen for the Portland show.) Web and Flow received mixed reviews, with one reviewer saying it was the basketry show of the year, another claiming that "too much art" was a bad thing in baskets. For once, I was happy not to be mentioned in the press.

This basket thing...I guess I should keep going. I was unsure, since the last batch I sent off to be juried were not accepted (though, the one non-basket piece was, and is, going to be in a show called Fibers Expanded opening next week at the Luke and Eloy Gallery in Pittsburgh, PA.) Very flattering to be selected! I only wish I could go to Portland for the conference and secure the title of a bona fide basket case.

Other baskets: "Elk Cove" continues to show at National Fiber Directions, in Wichita. These shows are not reviewed any more, apparently we've been showing the nation's direction in fibers for too many years? Anyway, other baskets: Cream Puff, which Husband says resembles Davy Damkoehler, and Carp, a new "sister basket" to Elk Cove, now appearing in my dining room, where the work for the Luke and Eloy show normally resides.

After the Flood

2009-03-19T13:13:00.000-07:00

Well, those of you who actually know me, and have spent time in my home, office, or studio, know that I live in a state of what appears to be chaos, but which is actually a fairly functional illusion of complete disarray. I know where my stuff is, but you won't. It works well for me, until unexpected things happen. Like when the dog bed overflows the washer and floods the basement. And the water pours down on artwork packed in cardboard boxes, and old suitcases, and packages of taped together bubble wrap.

Fortunately all the unused yarn and fabric are stored in mismatched jumbo plastic bins. And the family photos left on the table since Christmas? Spared the drips from the ceiling by an untidy - but fortuitously located - pile of mat-board, which created sort of a paper-pulp levee for me.

A "true confessions" moment: when work comes back from an exhibition, I rarely open it up to see if it's okay. This is probably a bad practice, since I can't collect any insurance on damages, but since most of my work is made of cloth, and therefore pretty much unbreakable, I prefer to leave it neatly packed and labeled from the gallery or exhibit space. So, who knows if any of the stuff that got soaked in the flood was in good condition? Some of it was almost 10 years old. The crushing blow was that it made me realize how much unsold work I have stored down under the laundry room. It seemed like a lot. Most of it was only partly ruined, meaning, if I wanted to show it again I'd have to build some replacement parts. But I don't know if any of it would be something I'd want to show anymore. So my big question is, what to do with unsold work? If you've done me a favor lately, you might find a package on your doorstep...

A little yarn, a little dye.

2009-02-24T09:42:00.000-08:00

So today I ordered some new supplies for the classroom from my old friends at Dharma. Dharma Trading Company has been my supplier of all things dye related since I started out as an undergraduate and had to order my first "blanks." It's a hippy outfit in California, and they claim very clean monkeys will be packing my order when I get my confirmation emails. When I ask for extra catalogues for the students, I always get a nice note from a real person, telling me whether or not they can send them, or with a due date on when the new catalogue is coming out (March, 2009, BTW.) Over the years they have grown and diversified and are now probably one of two places most professional-type textiles people go for dye (the other being ProChem in MA) but they're my main source for dyeable fabrics and such, because their inventory is really gigantic at this point.

Today I thought to check out their dye ready yarns. This was a very small selection last time I looked, and since KnitPicks has unbeatable pricing on their "Bare" line, I'd not thought to look further until today. Well, I was amazed. They've got not only wool and cotton but a bunch of clever blends and intriguing options. They also have undyed Brown Sheep Lambs Pride, which is the number one favorite yarn for the felting crowd. It's not super economical, but with the options, I might have to break down and try out some "Licorice Twist" which claims to be all wool, but with one strand that will take the dye differently than the others. I'm all about the two effects in one step process. I'll be sure to post my results so you can see what comes of it.

In other news... two of the three baskets from "Three Baskets I made in Fall 2008" are on the road. Lazy Amphora is off to Minneapolis for the Web and Flow show, and then Elk Cove is going to Wichita for National Fiber Directions. Both shows put my work in good company and I feel pretty lucky right now! My mom pointed out I didn't say how big they were. The answer is, they're small. Lazy Amphora is about 6 inches tall. Elk Cove is about 8 inches tall and a foot wide at its largest spread. (So much for putting all my eggs in either of them. Guess I'll have to make some more!) Thank you to the kind facebook friends who commented so positively on the three I've shown you so far. Let's all hope the next bunch is as good, or dare I hope, even better.

Stitch Gallery

2009-01-27T12:04:00.001-08:00

This week the Art program decided to surplus some lockers, including the one that was the original home of the Stitch Gallery, Locker 527. So with help from artist/woodshop technician Mark Sauter, the Stitch was demo'd and will relocate sometime in the next couple of weeks. I thought I'd show some images of the old Stitch so you can compare to what the new one looks like once it's up and running. This picture is of the Puff Paint Challenge. Oh, and the winner of the November 2008 Stitch Challenge (I "heart" Good Will) is Rachel Keeper. I'll post an image of her winning receipt-and-stitching broach soon.

Making while waiting.

2009-01-18T14:14:00.000-08:00

Our cars are not running well. It's nearly impossible to live without transportation, and we live in a place where that transportation pretty much has to be a car. We have no bus line nearby, nor train, no trolley or golf cart. In summer, we do have some access to Boy's moped, but in winter, it's one of two very impractical cars. Man and I both bought our cars when we were single and had the money (or credit) and freedom to purchase something that appealed to our senses, rather than our sense of duty. Just about a month ago, I found out that my car was designed using something I think is called human recognition marketing. Basically, it was designed so people would have the same brain-wave reaction upon seeing it as we do when we look at babies. Apparently, I was so out of touch with my biological clock I bought a car instead of starting a baby project. (Well, now the car is causing about as much trouble as a wayward teen.) And as for Man's car? Do not expect that luxury prices will buy reliability in frigid climates.

And all of that is my way of saying, I'm missing knitting group today, and I'm not happy about it. The weather and the transportation issues are killing my social life and that, according to Good Housekeeping Magazine, may shorten my life! Ah well, someone will get a lot of good yarn and fabric when I do go.

Three baskets I made in Fall, 2008

2009-01-08T10:19:00.000-08:00

A long time ago, Michael Cepress and I went to visit Kay Flick (see my first post) and she sold us a big box of vintage hat trims she'd gotten on ebay thinking they were "antique" instead of "vintage." We divided the goods up, and since it was all pretty light weight as art supplies go, they've made it through 3 moves with me. I finally began to work with the stuff, which is mostly 50's and 60's millinery horsehair braiding, and came up with these 3 small baskets. The bottom one, called "Lazy Amphora" has been accepted into "Web and Flow, Contemporary Baskets" show coming up at the Textile Center, in Minneapolis. The others are called "Elk Cove" (top) and "Dark Pull" (bottom.)

The top photo was taken with my new camera, compliments of a Grant in Aid of Research from the university. Thanks, University!

Kitchen Knives

2008-12-30T13:54:00.000-08:00

Today I'm thinking about cookery. I just finished reading My Life in France, by Julia Child, and in light of our Christmas dinner debacle, I am thinking back to a time when I just plain did not see the point of cooking. Don't get me wrong, I love food. And not in that, I'd eat a dozen donuts if no one was looking way. I love it in the way that, if invited to dine with good people (gourmands of my own type) at a good restaurant (good based on my own criteria) I'd hock jewelry or max a credit card to do so, especially if there was the chance of a tasting menu with wine pairings.

Now I married someone who likes to cook and who is very good at choosing recipes. He has a subscription to Bon Appetit and has never thrown away one issue in over 12 years, as far as I can tell. Sometimes I find very old, crusty and stained issues on the kitchen counter and realize they were originally sent to a wife he isn't married to anymore, at an address he left when the boy was 6 or 7 (Boy is now nearly 18.) But a recipe does not exactly go out of date. Sometimes on Top Chef a judge like Gail (Editor at Large for Food and Wine) will say some dish reminds her of the 1990's. Well, okay - food goes in and out of fashion, like the episode of Friends where Monica meets her soul-mate and both proclaim sun-dried tomatoes are "so last year," but really, if you like sun dried tomatoes in the first place, have you ever really stopped eating them? Not as long as you can still find them at the supermarket, I'm willing to bet.

But I digress. Despite the fact that Man had been planning on cooking Christmas dinner, I lobbied for a change. He was going to make beef, and that brought up all kinds of those Christmas memories for me that are the kind that make people hate Christmas and stop speaking to their relatives. I don't hate Christmas and still speak to my relatives but it's still a matter of some sensitivity that years ago when I did not eat red meat, my mother would persist in doing a giant prime rib because my brother-in-law (who is Jewish!) seemed to like it. So, I would fly 2300 miles through crowded airports to celebrate this holiday by "filling up on sides." Vegetarians have to do this all the time, I know - and I have lobbied for one of my nieces, based upon my own experience of how absolutely dreary it is to "feast" on potatoes sans gravy, rolls (which may or may not be from Costco or Sam's Club, since the only reason they're on the table is to fill you up), a micro-waved vegetable and if you're lucky, maybe a decent salad of some fashion.

Man wasn't particularly happy about the change of plans, and wanted no part in collaboration. So, after I interviewed Boy on his dietary preferences (lamb or duck was okay) I checked out the internet and ventured out shopping, 3 days before Christmas. Well, it's been snowing here, a lot. I drive a small car and it's not terrible in snow, but it's no SUV. The biggest issue is that when there's a lot of snow and the plows come, the hills of plowed snow make it difficult to see around corners. This was something I experienced six times, in entering and leaving parking lots of 3 different stores, including one actual meat market, a long way apart, without either lamb chops or duck breast, growing more and more upset at each turn.

Now one of the things we discussed having was the item I was most fond of for Christmas dinner the whole time I lived in Seattle: salmon. The food I like best to celebrate with on my birthday is Alaskan King Crab. These two items I encountered in solidly frozen and in the case of the salmon, heartily smoked form, in abundance at both the grocery stores. No duck breasts were to be had anywhere, and although there were numerous legs of lamb, I found nary a chop! (My mother had ironically selected salmon as her own main dish this Christmas.) The sight of those mountains of ice-coated crab legs just depressed me to no end. I got extremely homesick ("This would never happen in Seattle!") and when I arrived empty handed back at the house, I told Man I hated living in the MidWest, this was a stupid place where there was no good food and I didn't know why anyone lived here at all. Then I burst into tears. He agreed to go to Woodman's (where we mistakenly believe they "have everything!") and came back with...nothing, except a new opinion on the price of goose. I went back to the web, tearfully resigned not to cook either delicious recipe I'd previously chosen, and was convinced eventually I could make a whole duck. It would feed 3 and I might as well, since there wasn't anything else left in the stores anyway. Later a whole frozen duck appeared in the refrigerator, and Man spent the rest of the evening commenting on the price of goose (which I gather is outrageously high.)

Well, I cooked it. You are instructed to pierce the entire duck with a skewer to render the fat. I guess I didn't understand how much fat we were talking about here. It was a lot of fat, so much so that I was pouring it off every 20 minutes as instructed and feeling that the bird was out of the oven more than it was in the oven. Essentially, it's pretty easy to cook a duck, but in the end, it's just not really that worth it. Sure, potatoes cooked in the rendered fat later were good, but the duck itself was so unappetizing after having spent the better part of my day with it, and it's grease, I was ready to order Chinese food. It was much harder to carve than a chicken or a turkey, just because there's all that duck fat - the carving fork got away from me, the knife was slicked with oiliness and I my hands were so slippery it was difficult to grab a leg and remove it. It's a miracle no one was hurt. But no, it's not hard to cook a duck, seriously! It's just hard to eat it after you've cooked it. There's not much meat on a duck, but we had an okay meal. Not really a feast of any manner, since I once again found myself tempted to "fill up on sides."

There are many among my readers (if I have readers!) who will find my tail of woe just disgusting. I know most of my friends from days gone by aren't going to be happy that I even looked for lamb chops, but I'd like to point out that the first time I ate a lamb chop I was at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, CA, and that was just what they were serving that night - I had very little choice, I was an invited guest! (Although filling up on sides at Chez Panisse would raise the whole practice up a big notch.) I don't know when the first time I ate duck was, but I suspect it was somewhere nearly as important. I do not argue with the menus of chefs who have changed our entire way of eating as Americans. Also, living, as I do, here in the dreaded midwest, I actually have been to the fair and seen those 4H lambs being raised by children whose parents are just praying their knees off that the kids will want to stay and run the family farm. Karma gets real tricky when you know farmers personally.

I know I should just be happy to have Christmas dinner at all. Sides to fill up on are a true luxury. All the leftovers were really delicious (because Man got out the Emeril Lagasse cookbook and generated magic, bless him!) and now that the oven has been cleaned and no longer smells of duck, I know I will order it at restaurants in the future, if I'm lucky enough to find it on the menu. We will remember this Christmas dinner at our house. And next year go back to beef. I think we're going to look up a good recipe for hot gin punch, too, as it seemed to make the Cratchits feel a lot better about their extremely small (and apparently deceptively priced) goose.

Brainwashing: I read it in the newspaper!

2008-12-19T07:50:00.000-08:00

This morning we're watching it snow and I'm checking through my email for things that need attention. But there's not much except that I've been given permission to post some work by Amii Johns (up later) and also I got a message from my old friend, painter Sienna Reid, who is living in Italy right now, but apparently is still reading the New York Times Arts section (which I can never remember to do.) I'm fortunate that Sienna sent me a link (via Facebook) to this article.

Be sure to read the whole thing. It starts out all nice and "who knew?" and goes along to the key question, Why Embroidery. Ruth Geuter's essay may be worth the price of the catalogue, which you can bet I will be trying to order very soon.

Grandmothers should be angry!

2008-12-09T08:22:00.000-08:00

So, today is a snow-day here in chilly Wisconsin, so I checked to see if any of my students had left me a comment on sharpandpointedobjects. They didn't. But, I got a great comment from Craftivism blogger Craftivista. She directed me to an article in Craft magazine called Who's Craft is it Anyway? Pretty interesting question. The premise of the article is that craft product marketers have been over-using the phrase, "Not your grandmothers_" (insert any craft here.) In reading the article I reflected on some of the crafted items I have that my own grandmothers have made, and especially my mom's massive craft output over the past 7 decades. Frankly, there are some embroideries around here that look like you could have gotten them yesterday at Urban Outfitters. They were made by my grandmother Lawson, who's own mother was a professional seamstress.

The pictures are probably from an Erica Wilson kit. When I was a kid I actually thought needlework designer Erica Wilson was as famous as Mary Tyler Moore. My other grandmother crocheted. She had a more economical tendency not to use really good materials, but she was fast, and had sort of a Gee's Bend approach to color. Lots of people on my father's side quilted, and everyone sewed.

I have a picture my grandfather took of my mom learning to knit, and she's wearing a two-piece suit that her grandma, the seamstress, made for her. She's about 8 years old in the picture. My mom still knits me sweaters sometimes, when it's my lucky year to get one. Since I wear them all the time, you can assume my attitudes towards my mother's knitting would not make me run to grab any project labeled "Not your mother's knitting." Her knitting is vastly superior to mine, even, and I'm a professional. Why wouldn't it be? Practice does make perfect, and I was raised in a household where the most oft repeated phrase might just have been "Wait until I finish this row!" And my mom is a total snob about her craft output - natural fibers, the top brands, patterns only from a few classy designers. She visits Iris, our local yarn shop, about once a week. She likes a bargain, as any artist does, but she's apt to splurge if she finds that perfect assymetrical, complex cable pattern, avant garde, "is she freakin' out of her mind?" sweater while in a knitting mood.

Speaking of my mother, I need to call her today - she just got back from Colonial Williamsburg, where she was on an Embroiderer's Guild workshop trip to learn to replicate someone's historic sampler. It's absolutely true that most of what we see at Michael's, JoAnn's, Hobby Lobby, or Walmart is indeed, Not My Mother's Embroidery. But it's not just the historic stuff - for years she was in charge of finding jurors and organizing the jury process for Fiber Forum, which was the contemporary arm of the EGA (Embroiderer's Guild of America.) That experience prompted the birth of a family joke: One of the jurors, who shall remain nameless, once sent back a bunch of entries with only one comment on the sheet: "Why Embroidery?"

But that's a good question. Why embroidery? does beg a valid question - nowadays, as throughout the early to late 20th century, there are plenty of people who embroider just because they find it a pleasurable activity. But some of the imagery they're embroidering is ridiculous. In some hands, a threaded needle is as powerful as a loaded gun. In other hands, it's just another tool allowing Disney and Hallmark to financially exploit the masses.

The other issue is quality. Most of our grandmother's and mother's craft production from before say, 1973, is different than our contemporary crafts because it's simply a lot better made. They were taught this stuff when they were tiny girls! They were forced to keep doing it! The work was well done because it was something that was used to discipline them - they had to learn how to go back and fit whatever was wrong. There was no such stitch as Frankenstein Stitch. There was just sloppy, ugly, and wrong, and you'd better do it over. This is why many women wanted to go into the workforce, people! What we so fondly call "crafting" now, was, in fact, historically a contributing factor to the Women's Movement. Ever heard of women's lib?For vast numbers of women, that meant liberation from having to sew, knit, crochet, embroider, and quilt.

If you're a trained artist of either sex using embroidery for any reason, you better have an answer to that question: why embroidery? There are plenty of other ways to capture an image, and if you can't justify why you're using embroidery instead of photography, painting, drawing, pastel, or crayon, then you run the risk of really insulting those who are using embroidery because of it's history, social status, embedded subtexts, aesthetics, process, or repetitive nature. Artists have to be aware - with textiles, it really can't just be about process unless it's all about process. Is it your art or your hobby? If it's your hobby, have a good time. If it's your art, learn a little about what you're doing - read about it, or talk to your elders.

In either case, if your crafting is not specifically designed for simple enhancement to basic clothing or shelter, it's probably NOT your grandmother's embroidery. But then again, it'd probably be news to quite a few grandmas out there that this stuff could be Art.

School, pointedly.

2008-12-03T10:12:00.000-08:00

Hello! Well, it's really snowy here, and I promised my intro class I'd update the ol' blog to help them with their embroidered self-portrait projects. Here are some from a few semesters ago, made by Sarah Condon, Jess Rosenberg, Kelsey Eglehoff, Jenna Gleason, & Jacob Yahnke.

So, I'm going to write a little bit about what happened when I PowerPoint-ed for them on Monday and how I'm probably going to go through a big stitching phase now that I've committed to knitting Christmas presents. I blame the students, of course. If they just weren't so darned thirsty for sharp and pointed knowledge, I could allow myself to forget how much I like my subject matter, even when I'm not teaching it. (And this is where John would pretend to sneeze while actually saying the word, "Nerd!")

Okay - our Powerpoint presentation featured the work of those anonymous laborers who brought us knowledge of the Battle of Hastings. For being the world's most famous textile, the Bayeux Tapestry is pretty unknown - but not for it, we'd have no historical record of William the Conqueror and how the Saxons lost back in 1066 to the Normans. I prefer to show the really gorey bits to my students, because really, the more you study embroidery, the more you realize it's not been about Precious Moments or Home Sweet Home until pretty recently in history. How many British royal women passed their days in the Tower, awaiting execution, while stitching away on some bit of needlework now preserved in the Victoria and Albert museum? Plenty. How many bitter babes with no "voice" managed to tell it on a sampler? Too many to count. Anyway, at the conclusion of our presentation, Adam informed me there was a youtube video of the Battle of Hastings in which some clever person had animated the Bayeux Tapestry. Check that out! We did. Pretty good sound effects. We jetted then through the centuries and touched on a sampler done by an 11 year old (I could have used one done by a nine-year old, but since the students just learned to do French Knots, I didn't want to demoralize them totally.) We then hit on some biggies from the resurgence period, as I like to think of it. The second wave of feminism has a few big conceptual artists we have to look at - and frankly, all you young third wave crafter feminists out there should be ashamed of yourself if you don't know these people - Elaine Reichek and Annette Messager. I was unable to find the Elaine Reichek image that shook my world as a graduate student online - I'm going to see if I can find it in an old copy of Fiberarts, because it's a killer and should be seen by all. With Messager we just focused on her proverbs, though she's done a lot of stitched works, or deconstructed stitched work. Moving on from there, we got to contemporary embroidery. We looked at Hella Jongerius' embroidered ceramics; Clare Coles' embroidered wallpapers and furniture; Richard Saja's reworked toiles and glow in the dark french knots (but I skipped showing any Orly Cogan, who would be a good companion to Saja's because she works in a similar vein, her work is more pornographic than his, faint of heart be warned!) We also checked out some of the other artists who are in "Pricked, Extreme Embroidery" at the Museum of Arts and Design in NYC. These included the Phrenology Heads by Morwenna Catt; two works by Tilleke Schwarz; and Afro Abe by Sonya Clarke. The best compilation of images I found from the show and also a good bit of editorial can be found here.

Some themes that emerged in my search for new embroidery were that many of the artists aren't restricting themselves to just embroidery - this may seem obvious except that if you think about artists who identify as painters, they pretty much always use paint on canvas. Lots of these artists, like the artists in the Lawton Gallery's recent Craftivism show, identify or are identified as Conceptual Artists. The other big observation is, the work coming out of Europe, and most specifically Great Britain, tends to be the most relevant today, and isn't laboring under any crazy bad notions of cross-stitch kits and Aunt Martha's iron-on days of the week towels. American seem to need to constantly talk about how they're "referencing the domestic" (I admit, I've done it myself multiple times - once totally confusing a Scottish curator.) There's only one Lou Cabeen and the rest of us should get over it. I'd like to see more racial, ethnic, and historical references in American embroidery, like Sonya Clarke's Afro Abe, (which, sharply and pointedly, I find vastly more interesting than her hats and prayer bags.) Let's face it: there's a lot more in America that can be referenced with needle and thread than "the domestic," and in case you think that's tattoos, check out what Jenny Hart does when she's making art rather than designing for her line of iron-on transfers for Sublime Stitching. Word to the wise, the tattoo thing is just about played out. Matthew Benedict was doing it back in '98, and no one's done any better since, in my book.

We wrapped up our class on Monday with a quick demo of a technique I actually learned from the aforementioned Lou Cabeen, which was how to keep paper stable if you're going to stitch on it. For those heading off to the studio here are my answers to the questions I most anticipate from anyone who's thinking of doing this: What you're looking for is by Pellon. Do not use Stitch Witchery or Wonder Web. The generic name for the Pellon is fusible interfacing (if you're going to the fabric store.) Place it dots side down on the back side of your paper matrix, iron with steam and not much motion on a medium heat until the dots obscure and the bond holds. You won't be able to use a hoop for your stitching, and you can't pull stitches out without making permanent holes in the paper, but if you do a test run you'll get the hang of it. And yes, you can take cloth out of the cabinet in 416, as long as you cut from the end, and leave a clean edge on the roll or bolt. You're allowed to use the cotton, black or white, but don't use the silk or satin, please.

2008-11-18T17:57:00.001-08:00

Today's post is: Not my job. Sometimes, the most sharp and pointed objects I use are words, I'll admit it. My patience is a little short these days. Tomorrow we have a big critique in Intro Textiles. One of my better students swears it was supposed to be yesterday, but apparently the rest of the class didn't notice, because when I walked in yesterday, there were dye pots all over and sewing machines running and other signs of "critique in 2 days" going on. The room is a mess.

The ones I'm most likely to throw a sharp word or pointed comment at are: the one with blood red dye left in a bucket on the floor; the one who showed up just as I was leaving class today and wanted a critique (having missed the real critique last week), the one in advising who told a student there were no graphics classes Spring Semester, the one who didn't even thank me for showing his student where to find her course list for spring semester, the committee member I normally love who revealed today she'd not even started her work for our meeting on Friday (I've been prepping for 3 weeks), the one who emailed and asked that I email her homework because she was missing class tomorrow (no reason given) and finally, the custodian who won't even run a broom around the edge of a table in my classroom once in a while.

You might feel like pointing something sharp at these people too, because their actions distract me from doing nice things for people like you. Enough rant. Check out the new art Malcolm suggested - ginger's text messages, link at the side here.

2008-11-07T07:30:00.000-08:00

Here's the dog I've been talking about to my students and others. He's made of dog-show ribbons that Chris Walla gave to me, some time ago when I was visiting him up in Moorhead. I haven't counted them, but there are a lot! The dog is only made of the first prize and winner ribbons, except to fill in I've used the green obedience qualifier ribbons. They're attached to a floor pillow that's been squished up into a dog-like shape. He's pretty abstract, I know. He's also just mostly pinned together in this photo (don't tell the juror!) The dogs who won the ribbons were named Gremlin, Gillian, Chelsea, and Tiffany. They were German Shepherds, Australian shepherds, American standard pitt bull terriers, or Alaskan Eskimo dogs...I can't tell which dog was which breed, though. The ribbons are from competitions all over the U.S. throughout the late 80's and mid 90's. But the quality of this photo shows how much I need a different camera.

2008-11-05T11:15:00.001-08:00

Okay, so if you've come here to see the winner of the Puff Paint Challenge we had in the Stitch gallery, I'm going to have to apologize because I needed to take a picture, and my batteries keep discharging in both camera and phone. Finally, I have the winner's photo! Though I admit it's lousy because I had to use my phone to take it. Anyway....A big congratulations to Allison Wagner, who's entry is constructed of wired ombre dyed ribbon and glow in the dark shiny paint. And just in case you were wondering about the Stitch gallery, I've got an image on the left of how it looks from the "street." You can sort of see the other puff paint entries as well, just beyond the velvet ropes. The participants were, top to bottom: A. Johns, A. Gates, E. Rose, A. Wagner, and D. Schmidt. November's challenge is the I "heart" goodwill tee-shirt challenge. We may have to bust out of locker 527 for that one.

2008-10-07T14:59:00.000-07:00

It's been super exciting these last two days up in 416 - the studio classroom where Textiles happens. There was a movement afoot a few years ago to start calling 416 "Cellblock No. 9" because me and a few of the advanced students all went crazy over rockabilly royalty, Wanda Jackson, and a song of hers about a riot in a women's prison that goes, "There's a party goin' on... up in cellblock #9." Well, the Textiles studio does sometimes feel a little like the laundry at a women's prison, or so I imagine. (My poor assistant Allison has been washing "free" theatre drapes up there every spare moment. We got them from surplus through a big comedy of errors - we'll use them to do discharge projects, and hey, it's free fabric. I did have a drapes-shop flashback when she opened the giant box they came in. One's past never leaves!)

Anyway, we had a visit yesterday afternoon from Faythe Levine, who directed the documentary film, Handmade Nation, and who is on our campus because she curated a show for our gallery called "Craftivism." She has sharp eyes, she noticed a St. Vinnie's treasure that hangs over our chalkboard right off the bat. It's a tiny embroidery that says "Plan Ahead" but of course, the funny part is, that the stitcher had to put the last a and the d on their sides to fit it on the cloth (or so it seems.) I had to fight Jaana for it in the store when we came across it. Anyway, I was impressed that Faythe noticed it because it's one of those things I've been looking at for so long I can't see it. Faythe seemed very cool, and we're all looking forward to seeing the show when it opens on Wednesday.

This morning my advanced students were super rowdy and came up with a ton of interesting ideas. Then because I was impressed with Drew's handmade message shirt, I got the idea that I'd post their handwork here. Stay tuned for Drew's rebus shirt. The other plan we've put into action is that the Stitch Gallery (in locker 527) would issue a challenge every month. October's is the "First Annual Puff Paint Challenge" and they're all out there buying that awful stuff right now, I would bet, for their 6"x6" works of puff paintery. I'll post the winner here.

The Stitch is getting a remodel over the next couple weeks, so it'll have lights and a floor. It was closed all last year due to well, basically, management's involvement in Women's Studies. With the big conference last year there was no time for the Stitch, even though as a gallery it's only the size of a locker and has no regular hours. I will be sure to post a picture of the place here - we do have a velvet rope, and have been working on marble flooring, but that's not going too well so far. We may have to switch to wall to wall carpet, or handwoven rugs. Now that they've loosened up the locker policy, there may be a chance to take over locker 525, below the Stitch and put in a coffee house, so it'll be sort of like the old O.K. Hotel in Seattle.

The other big exciting thing is that Spring brings Mindy Sue Meyers back to us! Mindy just had a super great show for her MFA and got reviewed in the legitimate press, and also on All Things Cupcake. Take a look, unless you're hungry. Then, you want to wait until you get back from your favorite bakery.

Patterns, Cheap and dirty

2008-10-01T09:56:00.000-07:00

I was thinking after my last post about where I go for patterns, and how we decide what to knit when. Aside from the vintage books I've already talked about, available at your local thrift and or charity stores, I also have a few great places I go for free or really inexpensive patters when I get the itch to knit, and don't exactly know what I'm in the mood for. Most knitters by now are pretty familiar with knitty.com, which does a great job keeping the knitting world up to date and in-fashion. I have noticed lately that they're getting more sophisticated, and it's not as good a site as it used to be for sheer nuttiness and quick weekend gift projects, but still worthwhile if you're ready to dive into a big sweater project or are one of these sockaholic types. Another place I frequent for free patterns is Berrocco. They send me a newsletter via email called the Berrocco KnitBits newsletter and it's pretty interesting what they offer in the way of free patterns. If you go to their website you can search an extensive database of cataloged patterns, and their gift patterns are usually super cute and not tacky - for tacky free I go to Lion Brand. No, just kidding, sort of. Lion is a real conundrum for me, as I hate about 50% of the furry, synthetic and trashy-sold-as-sexy crap but on the other hand, they know their knitters. So they also have nice organic cotton, cashmere, and wools that you won't find at Michael's or the other big-box craft stores, and the free patterns for those yarns are pretty decent. Baby sweaters for the upcoming shower are one thing you can find here that are cute, and done in fibers that will neither embarrass you in front of the mother nor damage the child's emotional well-being for life. I guess what I'm saying is, Lion's website is worth a look for free patterns as well. The last place I visit regularly for inexpensive knitting patterns is Webs. The patterns that they work up for their own line of Valley Yarns are downloadable for about two bucks, and they have one designer, Kristin Hipsky, who's work is really to my taste. The patterns are well written too.

With winter coming on, I will probably be hitting the internet for knitting patterns, and indulging in a little bit of free-style knitting as well. The stash, after all, is still lurking in my basement. I will never be a person who catalogues her stash, this I know about myself. But I had an important lesson in stash management last week. The long and the short of it is, remember that one day you too will die, and it's true you can't take it with you. I don't want to torture any fabric collectors out there, but I saw a basement full of luxury fabrics valued at about $100K on Friday, and the lucky parties who inherited this gold mine can't use it up in their lifetime (some of it they've already worn as children and teenagers!) nor are their children interested. It's a bad day when you have to call your local college art department and ask to have a professor sent over to offer solutions to how to unload your mother's fabric stash. I can't at this point say what's going to happen to all that material. But I think I would be remiss if I didn't just say, "Stashers, consider the children."

Having no children, I plan to just keep knitting for another 4 decades.

Fashion: Where you find it.

2008-09-14T12:59:00.000-07:00

I had a student named Kay, who, because she's just a great person and knows how to multi-task, got herself a volunteer position at our local St. Vincent DePaul thrift store, to be closer to the "art supplies."

Our Vinnie's is literally a tourist destination - like a last outpost of civilized thrifting before you hit the edge of nowhere. We schedule a trip to this store whenever visiting artists we like come to town. Everyone believes it's the most amazing St. Vinnie's ever, even long time thrifters like me. The best part of the store is the fabric and notions area. It's run by some tough ladies of a certain age, and Kay was really lucky the day she was told she'd been assigned to help them out. One of the things she does is sort the donated craft and knitting magazines.

Old knitting and craft mags are pretty amusing reading; my mom has given me many I remember from my childhood, and the weird thing is, some of those patterns are back in style. With knowledge of yarn substitutions you can actually save a ton by buying these old magazines and adapting the patterns (which are NOT of course ALL worth adapting!) to a more modern color and yarn. I get the feeling this is exactly what some contemporary knitting patterns are, in fact: a new yarn, a new skinnier model to wear it, and bingo, who can tell this was originally seen in a Paton's brochure from 1976? (I also swear I have a pattern book from 1985 with Lisa Kudrow on the cover - if I could prove it maybe I could sell it?) Anyway, back to Kay.

One day she's sorting the pattern books and magazines and the woman in charge tells her to toss everything from the 1980's. Kay at first thinks it's because the 80's are so over, no one will buy them and it's some sort of retail marketing strategy, but no, she learns: it's because the ones from the 80's are "too risque." Knitting books, banned for being sexy.

Now, think about this - who was knitting in the 1980's? My mom, my best friend's mom, and well, that's about it. Knitting got really basic, maybe because of knitting machines, which had been rethought as homemaker's appliances (like the sewing machine) that could knit the image of a sheep or a balloon into your oversized Cosby sweater. Knitting was the opposite of sexy, which had to be hard on the Europeans who were producing a lot of sexy yarns, like Phildar, a French company. Phildar's solution was evidently to take all undergarments off the models, put them on the beach sans tanlines, and sell oversized cotton sweaters as potentially the sexiest little toppers imaginable. Hence, St. Vincent DePaul, a Catholic charity, has a volunteer (in this case, Kay) weed out the entire decade and toss it in the trash.

But Kay is not reliable. She smuggles the magazines out to show someone who will appreciate this, namely ME. After we have a laugh over what the Notions and Fabrics Superintendent has censored from the shelves, I notice something. I'm strangely attracted to pattern number 30, from the Phildar catalogue 106, published for summer 1984. They call it a short camisole. I think, a vest, to keep the bust modest and the tummy free from sweat at the same time. Perfect for the changing climate of the building where I teach.

So down to the stash I head one afternoon and I find 2 balls of Avalon alpaca/mohair blend in black. This yarn cost me next to nothing - part of a life-changing event that I'll write about another time, it's practically Free Clothes once I put in the time to do the math, swatching, and of course, knitting. It actually took much longer than it should have, since the thing is so small and took less than 100 grams of yarn, but it was knit on 3's and 4's, and I redid my ribbing about 3 times before I liked it. I also see I have 4 buttons on mine, whereas the original had 3. Whatever! The original was also varigated, metallic, and

worn with nothing underneath! Mine (shown here blocking) is fuzzy, black, and will never be worn without a shirt - I just don't have the tan for it.

My point here is, learn the difference between 'style' and 'fashion,' put in some man-hours, and you'll never be left with "nothing to wear."

Not so good at blogging

2008-09-10T08:17:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm formulating my first posting, which will focus on a knitting issue I'm dealing with currently. First of all, I got an email today from a person who wanted to see something I made, which was apparently referenced in someone else's blog. Sure wish I knew who the first blogger was, but anyway. I had to send her to a museum's website and tell her to download a PDF catalogue. This got me thinking about the original piece she'd asked about. Why do I just make stuff and send it off and act like it never happened? I liked that work, I was proud enough of it to submit it to a show, but still and all, I think I was worried about recreating it, or using it professionally, because it's jewelry, and I'm no jeweler, I have no academic background in that, and I have infinite respect for my friends who are trained as metalsmiths (oodles of friends who are metalsmiths and/or make a living off creating unique and wonderful pieces of jewelry.) Anyway, here are some images of the work I'm talking about, called Return to Tiffany's, and including the one piece the museum did not want which I call Charm. (I guess my 'heart' does look like a big tongue. Not that that's necessarily a BAD thing. )