Ragged Cloth Cafe, serving Art and Textiles

Last month, I had the opportunity to participate in an All Member Exhibit put on by the Lawrence Art Guild at the Hobbs-Taylor Lofts in Lawrence, Kansas. This was an unjuried exhibit of recent work by about 100 members of the Lawrence Art Guild, of which I am a member. There was a large variety of mediums represented in this exhibit, from photography to ceramics to oil paint to fiber. For the first time, this annual exhibit was held in a ground floor section of the recently constructed Hobbs-Taylor Lofts building. This was a large space that is awaiting the perfect business to come along and lease it, so it is only roughly finished. The guild used chain link fence panels set up in sections of four to show much of the work. I found that I liked the contrast between the art and the raw concrete and wire. The fence panels were reasonably lightweight to set up, and they hold up to the wear and tear of being stored and moved from site to site. My only criticism of the exhibit is that it was lacking in light. During the stormy day that I exhibit-sat, I began to wish that I had flashlights to hand out to the visitors.

Fiber was represented by a number of works in this exhibit, including a Jacquard weaving by Carla Tilghman, a chenille garment by Marci Blank, a machine lace and fabric scarf by Jill Mickel Zinn and quilts by Marge Banks and Linda Frost.

"Argyle" by Linda Frost

Mixed art exhibits of this type can be jarring, as one goes abruptly from one medium to another. Does this make one more aware of each individual art piece or is it ultimately just too distracting?

During my visit to Croatia, I had the lovely experience of visiting Grožnjan, known as the “Town of Artists”.   Grožnjan (pronounced roughly “Grosh-nyan”) is situated in an area called Istra. 

Driving through Istra reminded me of road trips through New Hampshire or Vermont.  Huge areas of land are completely covered by forest; other areas contain small family-owned farms where sheep are found sleeping in the shade under olive trees.  Road side produce stands are sprinkled here and there, selling vegetables, cheese, honey and olive oil.  And way up on a hill is an ancient stronghold town made of stone and clay buildings, overlooking this pristine landscape. 

My father in law, born in Croatia during World War II, told me the story of Istra and how the town of Grožnjan owes its vitality to artists.

Grožnjan was once part of Italy, owned by the Venetian republic for most of its 800 year history.  Its inhabitants were almost wiped out by plague in 1630, but was revitalized when Venetian tradesman and artisans settled there and began to maintain and improve the town. 

After World War II, Italy’s borders were redrawn making Istra part of Yugoslavia (now Croatia).  For the second time, the town of Grožnjan was nearly wiped out. As the Italian residents moved out, the town was nearly desserted.

With so many homes left abandoned, local Croatian artists began using the empty buildings for studio space.  Istra was relatively secluded at the time; the few remaining residents were primarily farmers.  Grožnjan was particularly attractive to artists because of its location overlooking the inspiring and beautiful landscape and because of the availability of nice, quiet, and most importantly free living/working space.  The area of Istra became a magnet for painters, sculptors, musicians and dancers.

Soon Grožnjan was “taken over” by artists who became very protective of the town’s integrity, its aesthetic appearance and its environment.  Istra’s economy is still primarily agricultural, so the landscape has remained pretty much unchanged.  Residents of Grožnjan have also made sure to preserve the town’s historical identity and appearance.  Other than electrical wires which cannot be hidden, there are really no outward signs of modern technology visible in the town.  You will not see air conditioners hanging out of windows, satellite dishes on rooftops, neon signs or traffic lights anywhere in Grožnjan.  This is because the residents have passed ordinances banning these things.

Once again this is a prosperous town, drawing tourists and visitors as well as being the permanent home of many artists and musicians.  The International Cultural Center for Young Musicians has a base here and the Academy of Dramatic Arts, University of Zagreb has established summer programs in Grožnjan.

I love the fact that this town is occupied and governed almost entirely by artists.  I love that they make laws to protect the town’s aesthetic… who else would do that?  Mostly I love the community that embraces all forms of art - from fine art/visual arts to music to performance art.  Street signs are hand painted ceramic instead of the usual printed metal.  Carved stone benches are everywhere, just so you can sit and take in the view.  Film festivals, ballet recitals and concerts provide a constant rythm like the town’s heartbeat. 

Walking through the streets, you may pass a ceramics studio, a printshop, a music school and a theater; then stop for coffee and chat with local artists or tourists.  When you’ve finished your espresso and possibly a little ice cream (Don’t worry, the climb up and down the main road will burn off most of those calories!), you may want to see a bead-making demonstration, check the schedules for the next jazz festival or yoga class, and maybe even purchase a unique piece of art before heading back home.

Our family travels to Croatia every other summer, and each time I try to visit at least one or two places I haven’t seen before.  But sometimes I find a place that I want to visit again and again.  Guess where I’ll be headed next time? 

For the past 3 or 4 weeks, my house has been in turmoil while we build a sewing studio in the basement. Although I’m thrilled and looking forward to having a new spacious “playroom”, I miss having quiet time to relax and be creative.

This forced sebatical has made me realize that my mood and emotional stability is largely dependent on having art as an outlet. The closest I’ve come to working was spending the weekend painting… No, not a landscape or abstract oil on canvas. More like 2 coats of primer and 2 coats of paint on the ceiling and walls.

I’ve realized that even though my sewing machine and fabrics are still here & available for use, I just can’t concentrate with all this stuff going on. It’s “cluttered house; cluttered mind”. I really need organization and quiet in order to do my best work. Some people thrive on chaos. I’ve realized I am NOT one of those people. And by the time we’re done building, painting or running back & forth to Home Depot, I’m just too exhausted to think.

This experience has raised my level of anxiety and really made me quite irritable. I’m trying to keep things in perspective and not freak out. Of course I’ll be back to work soon; it’s not the end of the world. But emotionally, I miss my creative time like I would miss a good friend.

In desperation or maybe displaced anxiety, I have taken to making numerous detailed sketches of what my work room will look like when it’s done. I’ve started taking the graph paper, ruler and labels a little too far. As my husband noted “Do you really need to draw the box of dryer sheets on the shelf? What is that, a pegboard? Do you have to draw out every single one of your tools?” No, I don’t. But it’s something to do. I can’t concentrate enough to draw a still life, so I’m trying to go with the flow & live in the home-improvement-design-construction moment.

Have you ever been “cut off” from your creative outlet without warning? What did you learn from the experience?

See below for a few pictures of my work-in-progress…

images below: we’ve painted the ceiling and walls, and installed a wanescoating panel behind the work sink. A small area of vinyl tile covers the floor under the sink and washer/dryer (installed it myself!) Now we’re working on finishing some of the built in shelves.

This hanging lightbulb & string serve as a “placeholder”. We’ll be installing 1′x4′ florescent lights this week.

Left: using painter’s tape, I mapped out on the floor where my sewing desk and machines might be placed. After that, we’ll install pendants for task lighting. A decorative dressing screen will hide that water pipe.

Once all the junk is off the floor, I think it will be a nice place to work!

Claire Watson’s unusual glove sculptures were on view at Art Sites gallery in Riverhead, NY during my recent visit to Long Island. Taking advantage of the opportunity to see unusual textile based work by an artist unfamiliar to me, I took time out from beachcombing to visit this exhibit.

Watson’s art is formed from ladies gloves that are taken apart and then reconstructed and altered. Doll parts and doll-making techniques are incorporated along with additional seams to form lines and shapes that change the original glove into an entirely new creature. The resulting forms are stuffed with sawdust and presented as discrete (and often unsettling) objects.

In making these sculptures, Watson hopes to suggest flesh (and its fragility), preoccupations with its containment or disclosure, and escape through role-playing and costume. She says she thinks of women’s traditions of handwork and long hours spent in sewing while she is working on these pieces, and also is reminded of dolls and toys. The artist has said that the shape of each sculpture comes from the gloves themselves- the extent to which they were deconstructed and then rebuilt evolved as the piece developed. In some cases, Watson made the gloves from sewing patterns. Other times, they came from the collection of gloves that she has accumulated.

I was quite fascinated by these sculptures, as each piece seemed to fool the eye as it traveled along the piece. There were legs that morphed into a hand, or fingers that attach to a doll’s head instead of a hand. Some pieces invited longer study, to discover clever construction. My favorite work of the exhibit was a piece that had gloves where each finger ended in its own tiny-gloved hand.

Also on display at this gallery was Claire Watson’s most recent work called “Familiars”. The sculptures in this exhibit begin with kitchen and household tools that have been transformed with polymer clay. These pieces start with sock darning eggs, wooden rolling pins, wooden spoons and mallets. These items were selected both because they are made to be grasped or touched by the human hand, and also because their shapes suggest parts of the human form.
The polymer clay that encases these wooden objects is flesh colored doll-makers clay which gives each piece the appearance of human flesh. The sculptures’ shapes have only a vague suggestion of human form or human body part. The abstraction of each piece is intentional, according to the artist, as she hopes the work will not suggest an exact form or use for the underlying tool, but instead will suggest mystery of functions that are no longer part of our common knowledge.

In a fitting summation of her work, Claire Watson’s artist statement includes the following thought:
“Language and art are tools, and playthings. I make objects to see what they will look like, but mainly to give form to ideas that can’t be put to words, and names to images that arrive in the imagination wholly unexpectedly.”

Claire Watson, a resident of Water Mill, received a BFA from the University of Texas at Austin, and an MFA from Tyler School of Art at Temple University in Rome and Philadelphia. She received a Pollock-Krasner Foundation Grant in 1990-1991, and is a 2007 Fellow in Sculpture from the New York Foundation for the Arts.