Home Again

My flights home were without incident. Missed the LA connection, but what the hey, I was back in the USA. Home was only a few hours away. Homecoming was very sweet. Would I do it all again? I can't say. I can say it was a tremendous learning experience and a hugely delightful opportunity to meet people I will cherish the rest of my life. On to a new blog and a new set of musings. Check out the new blog location - which will be announced soon - on my website, complexcloth.com.

I am looking for something slightly more versatile - where pictures can be bigger! There's so much to say and share. I look forward to continued explorations with you, the reader, as my sounding board.

Jane

Margery Goodall

I have known Margery Goodall since the 2006 Visions Quilt Exhibition, when I was invited to be one of three jurors and she was included as one of the selected artists. Margery and John came to the opening, where we had a chance to visit if only briefly. Art openings are always packed with people and opportunities to meet and greet. Of course that's fun and engaging, but not anything like getting a chance to actually talk to someone in the quiet of the studio.

Margery's studio is spare and well-organized. Her technique is labor intensive. She cuts fabric into strips, sews the strips together into large, compositional rectangles, and then cuts the resulting rectangles of patchwork back into thin, variegated strips of alternating fabric patterns and colours. These are later assembled with "mostly" solid color strips - and that's how the overall pattern is generated. 

There are so many subtleties in a thoughtful artists' work. We looked together at a blue piece she has been working on for over a year. What stopped the construction? Not having the right

blue fabric for the alternating bars - and not having a blue fabric with enough patterning on it to show well - however subtly - the final contrasting combination of colors and strips. Look once and the blue strips are blue strips. Look again and see the blue strips have a variation of pattern and value that contributes to the complexity of the entire surface. Margery is concerned that the color be right.

And she is inspired by the landscape. The color of water, the color of a bush fire, the color of drought creeping across the landscape. The secondary undulation of soft color and pattern would be easy to miss if you didn't take time to really look at her work. We talked about an interesting phenomena as far as looking is concerned. I'd observed it, as had she - the elimination of a work from a juried exhibition because the juror(s) felt the artist had not "moved on" or advanced with her work in some way or another. It's a sticky issue. How does anyone know whether an artist is intrigued by a concept or a technique to the point of continuing to explore it, versus using a style, concept or color scheme because it is assured of getting a positive nod from the jury?  Are painters judged by similar standards?

We agreed that artists work for the satisfaction and mental health of process.  I was struck again by what an artist can do compositionally when content and structure meet in an intentionally abstract setting. Margery's pieces are about something - the environment, its protection and the use of resources. Also about the beauty of place. But if the viewer doesn't know where the inspiration came from, it doesn't really matter. Her use of line and color produces sophisticated compositions which are either refreshing or calming, depending on what the viewer brings to the viewing.

I like that idea - artists make what satisfies or inspires them. The work is released into the world to stand on its own. Viewers embrace what they see, and project their own opinions and inspirations onto it. The artist, if lucky, gets to hear something of what her work has meant to her audience. The circle is completed.

India Flint

There is so much to write about! I haven't covered nearly enough, even though I am heading home soon. Individual artists merit mention. There is a stimulating and varied textile community in Australia. I've been introduced to all kinds of unique and fabulous work.

At Geelong I met India Flint, who was teaching another workshop offered at the Forum. Flint recently published a book, Eco Colour; Botanical Dyes for Beautiful Textiles. (Murdoch Books; 2008) She wrote a Master's Thesis in 2001 on the use of Eucalypts (of which there are hundreds of varieties) as natural dyes, and the new book is an extension of her explorations, but it goes far beyond a recipe book for natural dyeing. The emphasis on safe work practices and also on sustainability - as an issue dyers must consider - is refreshing. Too often books on surface design techniques skim over the safety or environmental concerns. Flint weaves together ethical theory and practice easily, so we see how important it is to consider them equally valuable parts of process.

Eco Colour is also refreshing because of  it's emphasis on exploring. Flint offers few hard and fast rules, but there are wonderful guidelines. There is a heady dose of encouragement, and her dry wit makes reading a treat. She actively acknowledges the fact that not all dyes are stable or permanent, and encourages practitioners to dye fabrics seasonally if fading bothers them.

Her own work is stunning. I saw a few examples in the classroom, but was also lucky enough to be in Geelong during the opening of the Wool Quilt Exhibition. India's piece was a beautiful example of Eucalypt dyeing on wool - soft colors and impressions of the leaves themselves. Later, I saw another gorgeous piece - a length of silk over 3 metres long - in an exhibition in Bunbury. If I can guess about the process based on what I have been reading, the length was produced by applying liquid dye solution to the cloth, rolling it up with real leaves inserted between the layers, and then further patterned by using a process Flint refers to as Hapa-zome.

Readers may be familiar with the concept of pounding flower blossoms and leaves with a mallet to release their color onto a cloth surface. Jean Ray Laury included this technique in one of her books. Flint has introduced it into her work as an elegant counterpoint to the patterns created by the immersion dyeing. Art Cloth is absolutely what Flint is creating.

I'm afraid the book will be discounted outside of Australia, because Eucalyptus doesn't grow everywhere in the world, but that would be unfortunate. I bought a copy of Eco Color hoping to experiment, using some of her guidelines with cactus and other desert varieties I grow in Texas. I am not ready to give up my MX dyes, especially if I can work with a lower water immersion format. But the sustainability and environmental issues we must address, if we are to protect our planet, lend appeal to the notion of working with plants native to a particular place. 

I can't help but wonder what galleries would have to say about work that predictably fades or changes. It probably wouldn't be popular. I don't know how I feel about it. The side of me that wants work to be well-crafted and lasting - in part to honor the time and effort the artist put into making it - worries about fabric that has been rusted, or dyed with fugitive dyes. But the side of me that realizes permanence is an illusion loves the open acknowledgment of impermanence and change. 

What do you think?

The Finale

Can it be Friday afternoon? We booked it - pushing on toward the final hour, everyone totally involved in the printing process. Every time I do this I wish I had a BIG jumbo jet so I could load everyone onto it, and fly them back to my studio. In my dreams we have a landing port on the roof of the Beacon Hill Presbyterian Church. The helicopter lands (wouldn't this be a better use of Blackhawk helicopters?) all the visitors pile off and they are met by all the artcloth artists in the United States and the UK and while we are dreaming - every art cloth artist in the world has a paid trip to Art Cloth Studios for a month. All the sponsors welcome their visitors and we agree to meet the following day over tea. The grand printing party begins. 

Dye flows like water and wine. Paints are dripped and sprayed and someone even suggests that we roll in them and print our bodies. (Oh, that would have been me.) In any event, there is an explosion of color and imagery and at the end of the first day we return to my house, where there is a lovely fire in the firepit, drinks of choice all around, a satisfying meal, and a slide show sharing all of the heartfelt works made by the participants. With plenty of time for them to tell their stories, which enrich us all.

This is, of course, a fantasy, but what a great world it is...and perhaps there are variations we could actually explore. I look forward to being home and talking about what I learned and saw and felt in Australia. I look forward to the possibility of inviting Australian textile artists to visit Art Cloth Studios, where, perhaps, a grand rethinking and connection might occur. Tonight, I thank each and every Australian host, student and person who gave me advice on a train. Kindness counts for so much. And it will be kindness that brings me home.

Fibres West Workshops

I finally managed an email exchange with my good friend, Beth Kennedy, in Austin, Texas. When I wrote that it had been slightly distracting at night - with my time winding down and home on the horizon - she asked that I write about the other workshops I'd witnessed over the course of the six weeks. Of course! I have been a vicarious participant in every workshop being held here at Bunbury Grammar School, for example - so here is a description of three I found particularly intriguing.

Christina Newberry - Wow! She's a brilliant genius at reconfiguring clothing into something new. I thought of artists at home who would be inspired by her very creative approach to garment re-creation. Christina's class focuses on thrift store finds (here, they call them op shops - which translates: opportunity shops) and on the complete revisioning of clothing. And revisions they did. I just wanted Caryl and Adrian and Renita to be here - they would have found it SO inspiring. Skirts were jackets, jackets were dresses. Mens' suit coats were turned inside out so that the lining - minus the heavy padding - could become a lightweight Spring waistcoat/vest. One participant in the class kept reaching in to her rucksack to pull out yet another garment she'd re-created from the stash originally culled from the Op Shop. Her eyes blazed when she said to me, "I have never felt so committed to sewing and CLOTHES!!!"

Liz Evans is teaching a felting class focussed on vessels and containers. Felting is extremely popular here, perhaps because sheep have played such an important role in the history of Australia. Liz's students's creations are thoughtful and heartfelt. The colors are gorgeous. Unbelievable to see what they have created in this short four days. And one more day to go.

Glen Skien. The emphasis of the class is boxes - built from scratch. Anyone who has made a box from basic pieces of cardboard knows the skill involved. But these are not only boxes for boxes' sake. They are containers, protectors, and shields. Glen's work is sensitive and while quite different from Cornell's, nonetheless reminded me of the work of reclusive American artist, Joseph Cornell. A similar aesthetic and sensibility. Gorgeous relationships within the context of the works. His craftsmanship sets the bar for anyone working in the medium of three-dimensional collage. Postage stamps packaged into bound bundles have become stitched parcels. Unexpected quills, pens, inked drawings. Room for the viewer to project longing, expectation or memory into Glen's eccentric offerings. I found them mesmerizing.

Moved by the work, as I have been affected again and again by Australian artists and their craft, I retreated to my room and to the computer, where I could only hope to pique interest in anyone who reads these ongoing posts. Thank you so much for your interest, and involvement. Hard to believe that in four days I will return home again, and all of this, so real tonight, will be only a dream or memory.
Sweet dreams.

Fibres West

My last workshop of the Australian visit is happening this week at the Bunbury Grammar School. Bunbury is a seaside town, but the Grammar School is nestled into the bush, up away from the ocean. The birds wake us with their melodious chortles. Kookaburas laugh at the sleeping humans who are missing the sunrise. I've been told that if I get up early enough to walk, I may meet wayward kangaroos, grazing in the tall grass under the gum trees.

The ground is littered with incredible seed pods. Acorns have a new shape here. Gum pods vary from rounded cups as long as my finger and as big around as a child's wrist, to tiny, delicate cups, perfect for a doll's tea party. It is spring all across the south of the continent, and the flowers are in full regalia. Banksia I have only ever seen in the fancy Central Market at home grow prolifically. They are trees, and the blooms range from the striking blood orange color popular at home, to a pale yellow-green version, more than eight inches tall. A virtual fairyland of odd shapes and sizes and colors.

The first day of class we work on dyeing. Workshops are organic creatures, influenced by the mix of participants, their knowledge base, and the intent of the tutor. Sometimes lately, it's more the whim of this tutor, rather than the intent. Being in a new environment with different tools, fabrics (and even water) has generated a sense of freedom I haven't felt in awhile. Let's see what happens!

It has been my intent to perfect a low water immersion method, using even less water than the methods most fiber artists currently employ. A typical workshop can go through hundreds of gallons of water in dye baths alone. The need to conserve water has been a growing ethical concern among dyers. Workshops offer opportunities to work on strategies for conservation. In the last six workshops I've conducted, we've moved to a method whereby the dye is mixed as a stock solution in buckets, and then participants pour only what they need into zipper baggies, where their samples are deposited after the binding and folding. (manipulations which help generate patterns on the dyed cloth.)

Australia has an even more profound drought than we are experiencing in parts of the United States, leading me to think very seriously about the consequences of water usage and dyeing. This method we're trying is one answer. Fifteen people were able to dye 12 samples each, and the total water consumed was about six US gallons, or roughly eight litres. For this reason alone, the method is worth passing on, even though readers who don't have a surface design interest may be bored, and will prefer to skip over the details!

Our recipe was:

1 gallon hot water

1/3 c salt

1/6 c soda ash

2 - 3 T. dye (which makes a very concentrated solution)

Sorry the measurements are in cups and tablespoons. My conversion ability is not yet completed.

Mix all of that together so that the ingredients are dissolved. Spoon enough dye into ziplock bags to cover the fabrics you intend to dye. Or dip a pole wrap, for instance, into the bucket and then transfer it to a baggie.

Batch for at least 3 hours and then wash out as you normally would.

I am not the first to experiment with baggie dyeing, so I wouldn't want to appear to make that claim. But I am not very familiar with other methods. The method I have described could be adapted to a container or bucket and is similar to what I do at home with larger lengths. My intent is to propose this as a way to handle group dyeing sessions, as the groups are often the guiltiest at water waste - not on purpose; just not planning. 

The other advantages to the process is that silk and cotton get equal shot at the dye molecules, and the washout is fairly fast as there isn't a lot of liquid to dispose of.

This morning we'll get to see the results. It's like opening presents!

Australia Ephemera

Lots of things happen that never fit into a neat profile you can write about. This afternoon I sifted back through all the photos I've taken since I arrived in Australia on September fifth. WOW. It's going to take a few long winter nights to absorb everything I've seen and experienced. James called this morning. Of course now we finally have the calling card option figured out - with only eight days to go until I fly home. Reinventing the wheel? You could call it that. Zenna got on the phone and I realized what love is all about. And then Tony. My San Antonio family. The best.

Now I am sitting in an outdoor cafe where I've finally accessed free Internet access. I've been paying by the megabyte - not uncommon for many folks around the globe. Subscribers have written to the Complex Cloth list in the past, politely requesting that members post to the group minus previous email parts of the conversation. Now I really get it. When you are paying by the kilobyte you pay close attention to the details.

I could digress, and since this is an assortment of observations, I will. When Zenna was maybe 13 years old, she and her best friend Ana frequently went into her room, closed the door and got on-line. Seemed innocent enough. One night, I had reason to go in and speak to them, and discovered they'd been on-line with some guy in England, posing as much older girls. Well. They were immediately ordered to write to him and admit their deception. I only hoped he wasn't a pervert who would actually be pleased they were underage. Deep breath. He wrote a scalding reply to them, centering on the reality of high Internet fees and the downside of misrepresentation. Case closed. They were good girls out for a lark. They didn't know.

This is how we figure out the world. We witness it, and then if we are lucky, people are honest with us. Or we witness it, and then, with some luck, we figure it out for ourselves.

Right now there is a wedding party across the street. They are taking pictures. Why they chose the Gucci storefront as their back drop is not something I understand. C'est la vie.

When I was in Melbourne, I passed a statue of one of the founding  fathers - hm. Not sure how the average Australian would feel about the use of that term. As one friend pointed out, every time the Queen comes to visit, it costs several million dollars that could be spent on infrastructure. There was a seagull on his head, doing what seagulls do. You can't escape the irony.

On the ferry to Sydney, I spotted a boy sporting a San Antonio Spurs (our renowned basketball team) jersey. Number 21! Tim Duncan. Whoa. Only thing was, where could that have been printed? Or was it supposed to be an inside joke? Tim "Dunk"an? The young man was delighted to pose for a photo, and I suspect, almost asked for my autograph, since I'd actually seen Tim Duncan in action.

The market this morning. Small dog in pink sweater - oh, sorry - jumper - and requisite bow. Attracting more attention than the produce. Pets - now there's a topic we can all agree on.

And the signs. I wish I could post all of them. The government means business! For example, at every rail station there are signs warning pedestrians not to cross the tracks. YOUR FAMILY WON'T HAVE TO SCATTER YOUR ASHES, THE TRAIN WILL DO IT FOR YOU. or YOU'LL NEVER KNOW WHAT HIT YOU.  Or what the poster says about tagging (spray painting where you aren't wanted.) EVEN THE TOUGH GUYS CRY THE FIRST NIGHT. (in prison, I assume.) I think this is good. Too many people take risks and don't consider the consequences. This isn't big brother. It's a family mentality. It's taking care of each other, even if it feels a bit rough.

But then there's the gentle side, and I love it. My favorite was the sign on the door to the Art Department at the College of Fine Arts in Sydney. It read, quite simply, "Please close the door gently. If not, it makes a lot of noise."

Don't you just love it when someone knows how to be tough when tough is required, and soft when it will do the trick?

Everyone should have the chance to come here.