Inside the Box

Ever have one of those days when you just feel boxed in?
I started the day with a $700. utility bill, which is about five hundred dollars more than usual. Quick, indignant call to City Public Services, only to discover that yes - back in December when I got that low bill - even though we were in the middle of an ice storm in south Texas? It was an error and now the error has caught up with me....

OK. Off to the gym, ideas for essays swirling in my head. All I need is a good workout to help me focus. Then I’ll go home and get started. Yikes! A woman on the bench next to me in the locker room walks off with my keys. It had to be an accident, but stranded at the gym I start a slow burn.

Sound familiar? Modern life is filled with gripes and grievances. Too little time. Not enough money. Things that break or quit working.

Sometimes it’s hard to stay open to the moments of grace that can turn the bad day around. Moments that remind you everyone suffers these minor annoyances. In the words of a children’s book we used to read, It could be worse.

Most of us are no strangers to worse. Parents with dementia and a variety of age-related issues. Illnesses of our own. Kid problems. No one escapes this life unscathed.

So, I got a ride from the gym, thanks to an enterprising daughter with keys to my car. The cat on the kitchen counter (one of six in the house - anyone need a cat?) gave me a laugh packaged with a literal lesson. Sometimes when you’re in the box it just might help to settle there. Breathe. Maybe even take a nap. Get a little thinking done.

The path of least resistance might be a pretty good path.

Working to a Theme

I’m not a fan of theme exhibitions.

The disclaimer: I do have a piece in the exhibition Green, which just opened at the Textile Museum in Washington DC. I haven’t seen the show, but hope to. But right now I don’t know if the bias expressed here applies to it or not.

Frankly, I don’t really understand why theme shows are so popular. I’m not on the bandwagon. Most of the shows I’ve seen that were built around a theme felt trite and weren’t the best examples of the work I knew the artists could create.
But maybe themes give the venue something to build on. When I challenged the value of a theme for the future Surface Design Association conference (San Antonio 2013) the conference manager was polite but firm. It only took a week to receive a forwarded email from her written by a presenter whose entire body of work had shifted – impacted by the Confluence theme around which the 2011 conference is constructed.

Last Sunday I went to the San Antonio Museum of Art to see the much anticipated exhibition The Missing Peace – art work inspired by the Dalai Lama. I could hardly wait. The theme issue didn’t occur to me until I got there and walked through the show. It was very disappointing. An impressive roster of names, but very little that was inspiring. Even some textile pieces (Yippee in a major museum) but not good ones. Some mildly interesting ideas. The Dalai Lama’s shoes and a photo of the aura surrounding them. (When told of the aura, the Dalai Lama smiled and suggested that perhaps the aura was really that of his cobbler, who’d repaired the shoes three times in the recent past.)

How could I love the idea of the theme and find the actual artwork falling flat?

Was it because as good as the artists are, most of them weren’t making work that would have been made anyway? Most of it was work created because who wouldn’t want to be in a show inspired by the Dalai Lama? I’d sure give it a shot if invited. This little opinion would fly out the window so fast your head would spin.

But It isn’t just about The Missing Peace. The Handweaver’s Guild of America always mounts a set of shows related to their Convergence conference that are theme driven. I never pass up an opportunity to enter their singularly worthy fabric lengths exhibition, but I always struggle with the theme. I don’t live in New Mexico. How authentic is it to work to a theme related to the landscape there? And why? Can’t those of us who work in that format just send gorgeous, creative, thought-provoking entries with a wide range of themes? Wouldn’t that sort of show be just as successful?
Maybe it’s sour grapes because I didn’t get in last time, even though my fabric was wonderful. It didn’t fit the theme, according to the juror.

Lots of people will disagree with me and you’ve got the right to do so. But I guess I am a purist. Art is sacred. I’d rather artists be a bit obstinate when it comes to personal work. There are so many compromises in Life. If you’ve got a piece that fits a theme, that’s different. But working to one? I’m wary.

And not only that. It's Wordless Wednesday

Guerilla Acts Part Two

I am working on a new name for art driven guerilla activities. There are loads of them out there. For instance, some folks led by my friends Diane Sandlin and Jean Dahlgren participated in a yarn bombing at the Blanton Art Museum in Austin, Texas.

Don't the colors look beautiful amid the trees?

After I wrote the post yesterday, I read a few inspiring things on line, and decided no time like the present. I grabbed four framed photographs left from a recent exhibition of spoonflower.com inspired pieces and hopped in the car, armed with my hammer, a few nails and the camera.


I loved the incongruity of framed art work hanging on a telephone pole.

Before I left the house, I printed cards that read:
THIS IS FREE ART
If you want it, it’s yours.
Call & leave a message if you want to tell me who you are.
Happy Day.
733-1957

I attached a card to the back of each photograph.

I installed the Dhalia piece yesterday afternoon at 3:00 pm. This morning at 9:00 am it was gone.



I installed the Agave photo in front of the liquor store. You know - tequila, and all - and the fact that this is Texas. I drove by this morning, and the photo had a crack in the glass. The Free Art tag was taped to the front, on the glass. I thought it was pretty sweet of someone to hang it back up, but I did wonder why he or she didn't just take it. One of those things that's interesting to question, but part of the lesson of letting go.


I chose to install the Poppy outside my favorite Mexican restaurant - the Blanco Cafe. There's a gorgeous tribute to one of the daughters - Miss Gina - painted on the window. I thought it was fitting to offer the poppy up in memory of her. This morning it was still there.


The last photograph is installed outside the local drycleaner's storefront. When we drove past it this morning (My sister Ann was visiting) we agreed that most people are so preoccupied with their thoughts when they drive, they may not even notice the 12" x 12" square hanging incongruously on the telephone pole. There's a lesson there, too. It's so good to get outside yourself and really look at the world around you. I will be looking and also reporting.

And I'll let you know if anyone calls.

Guerilla Acts of Making

“What are you going to do with it?”

That’s a question you may have heard before. Art’s funny that way. If friends and neighbors have a frame of reference for your work, then maybe the question hasn’t come up. It’s easy to see that a framed painting is supposed to go on the wall. A blown glass object is meant to sit on a shelf behind the couch. Hand thrown ceramic tableware? Obvious. Bring on the ribs and potato salad.

But quilts can’t just be quilts. In order to be sure the audience gets it, we use a qualifier. It’s an art quilt. Hand printed lengths of fabric that took hours (and expertise) to print? Can’t be yardage. Better be art cloth. What am I going to do with it? Make a wall hanging?

Maybe I am just going to let it be. Art.

But that’s idealistic at best and escapist at the least. It’s hard to learn to work for the sake of working. We do better with deadlines. Challenges. A Call for Entries. We want our work to do something.

This is all related to thoughts on the potential of what I call guerilla acts of making. A young artist (sorry I have forgotten her name – if you know it, please add a comment below) who bought a shirt at Wal-Mart, went home and carefully disassembled it. Copied it. Sewed up a duplicate and returned her version to the store. This, a comment on mass consumption and also on sweat shops.

And how about various projects around the country where people knit to dress parking meters, fences and other bits of public and private property?

And have you seen any of the spontaneous musical events occurring all over the world? Wow. Everyone is having so much fun. I want a piece of that.

Maybe because it’s Spring in Texas. Time to lighten up. I love winter and the impulse to burrow in, go deep, create rich work. Delve into meaning. But right now, how about some fun with a purpose? Work that you don’t have to question because you know where it’s going and why you are making it!

Engage in a guerilla act of making this month. If poets and poetry lovers can strew poems on bus benches and restaurant tables, I want to make art and put it out there.

Here are my ideas:
Take a piece of art and nail it to a telephone pole. Watch from a distance. Or not. Will anyone take it? Will they be pleased and public or furtive?

Print a Tshirt and add a hang tag that says” Take me. I’m free.” Sneak it into a Stein Mart or Macy’s and leave it on the rack. Make sure you add a phone number so anyone who is curious can call you.

What about crocheting a few bugs and butterflies and then pinning them to leaves in a public garden? Consult 75 Birds, Butterflies & little beasts to knit and crochet by Lesley Stanfield (St. Martin’s Griffin 2011) for ideas.


There’s actually an advertising campaign like this happening across the country. Last summer I picked up a beautiful beach glass pendant and was happily surprised when the shop owner told me I’d chosen the one object in the gallery that was free. All I had to do was write an email to the maker and thank her.

It’s a great advertising strategy but it’s also a great way to spread a little joy around.

Joy. What a great idea.

Poem for Tuesday

What does not exist looks so handsome.
What does exist, where is it?
An ocean is hidden. All we see is foam,
shapes of dust, spinning, tall as minarets, but I want wind.
Dust can’t rise up without wind, I know,
but can’t I understand this
by some way other than induction?

Invisible ocean, wind. Visible foam and dust: This is speech.
Why can’t we hear thought?
These eyes were born asleep.
Why organize a universe this way?

With the merchant close by a magician measures out
five hundred ells of linen moonlight.
It takes all his money, but the merchant buys the lot.
Suddenly there’s no linen, and of course there’s no money,
which was his life spent wrongly, and yours.
Say, Save me, Thou One,
from witches who tie knots and blow on them.
They’re tying them again.
Prayers are not enough. You must do something.

Three companions for you:
Number One, what you own. He won’t even leave the house
for some danger you might be in. He stays inside.
Number two, your good friend. He at least comes to the
funeral.
He stands and talks at the gravesite. No further.

The third companion, what you do, your work,
goes down into death to be there with you,
to help.
Take deep refuge with that companion, beforehand.

Rumi

National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month. In honor of the month, I would like to share one of my recent favorites with you. This poem is by Naomi Shihab Nye, and was recently published in the Shambala Sun - a great magazine that always includes a poem, with brief commentary, at the end of the issue.

When they say don’t I know you?
say no.

When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.

Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.

If they say We should get together
say why?
It’s not that you don’t love them anymore.

You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.

Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.

Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.

When someone you haven’t seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don’t start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.