Red Thread Studio: Slow Cloth, New Cloth, Art Cloth

Even Here We Are: Some Thoughts on Beauty

It's a beautiful flower in your garden
But the most beautiful by far
Is the one growing wild in the garbage dump
Even here
Even here we are.
 -- Even Here We Are, Paul Westerberg

Out of all those kinds of people
You've got a face with a view.
        -- This Must Be The Place, Talking Heads

I've been trying to do my Qualities of Slow Cloth series in order (as in the original post) though it really doesn't matter -- the order was not carefully thought out. But there we have it, and the next quality up for exploration is beauty. Writing about beauty, and what it means in the context of textile art, craft and culture, is -- ha! -- not easy. This might just be one of many posts exploring it. So, let's just call this some thoughts on beauty.

The art world gets snobbish about beauty sometimes, as if to make art that delights the eye is weak and insipid and somehow easier. It's true that beauty sometimes feels less intellectually challenging, because it bypasses the brain to just arrest the senses. To sidetrack the argument, we can talk about an aesthetic. To me an aesthetic is more a personal sense of what is beautiful, and an intention to move toward it, while beauty often suggests a conventional standard that isn't what we're aiming for here.

Our perception of beauty is relative. They say that homely people grow more beautiful with intimacy, while the conventionally beautiful, if lacking other compelling gifts, lose their luster in the eyes of others with time. If meaning, significance and memory grow, people become more beautiful in our eyes. The same is true with some objects -- worn patchwork scrap quilts come to mind. And we're at our human, artisan best when we create something and use our hands and imaginations and hearts to make it not just purposeful, but also beautiful in a way that is true to our own aesthetic. This is true for words, too -- there are words whose only purpose is to identify or communicate something, but when we add some elegance or rhythm to what we say, it serves a larger need. It's not what you say, it's how you say it . . .

And because we are so compelled to make things more beautiful than necessary, and we have been all through the ages in every culture, I have to believe that it's in our collective DNA to seek and to create beauty. It nourishes us and it connects us to spirit -- some of the most beautiful things made by humans are tributes to spirit in some form: magnificent cathedrals, awesome statues of Buddha, gardens, art.

In her wonderful book A Natural History of the Senses, Diane Ackerman talks about how researchers have tried to codify what makes a stranger's face appear beautiful to us. There is a certain symmetry that we respond to, and it can be measured in some pretty nuanced ways. But of course, we all know that we love the faces we love for their uniqueness and their "flaws" as much or more than for their perfection.

So it is with everything.  The Japanese call this recognition of character wabi-sabi -- humble and imperfect beauty. I've just checked out Robyn Griggs Lawrence's book The Wabi-Sabi House: The Japanese Art of Imperfect Beauty, from my (beautiful) local library. I'll let you know what I learn.

Until then, food for thought: Where does beauty fit in your work? What's the most beautiful thing you own, or the most beautiful thing in your life, and what makes it so? What's the most beautiful thing you've made, and how do you feel about it? Do you feel pressured by conventional ideas of beauty, in your life and person and in your art or craft? Comments welcome.

Monday Monday

Every once in a while I come across a site that I'm sure I must be the last to discover, but just in case, I'm going to tell you about it anyway: Fiber Arts Calls for Entry is just what it says, a fantastic aggregate of opportunities for textile artists.

Via Fibercopia, I found One World Textiles. My Australian readers may know this site already. I would say that this is eye candy for global textile lovers, but on a long walk this morning through a glorious green landscape under blue sky, I decided that "eye candy" isn't really an appropriate term for things that are really eye and soul nourishment. That's what these textiles are -- every thread has a soul, indeed. And check out the book list -- more than a hundred great recommendations on global textiles. It's sending me to the library.

We've had thunderstorms and windstorms in the past couple of weeks -- with a couple of four- and five-hour power outages (inevitably right after buying a refrigerator full of groceries). It's made me acutely aware of how dependent I am on electricity. So what can you do when there's no computer, sewing machine, stove, iron, radio or CD player? Why, hand stitching, of course. I began some bead embroidery yesterday -- something I really go in phases with, and find deeply meditative and healing when the time is right.

A quick follow-up on the colonoscopy: It's so not bad. If it's on your list, do it. I'm telling you, if they marketed it as a Total Spa Cleanse with Brief Induced Nap, they'd have no problem at all getting people there. I felt great the next day.

Every Thread Has a Soul, and the Dance of Art and Nature

An article in the new issue of Selvedge quotes an Arab proverb: "Every thread has a soul." Awesome. I think I'll make that my official tag line for this blog, and maybe even its new name. In Googling it, I don't find any other references to this proverb, but maybe it's little-known in the West with origins in the mists of time, and that totally works for me.

I joined Stitchin' Fingers, Sharon B's terrific new fiber arts community. Anyone can join, and there are many sub-groups forming to cover just about every technique or interest. I keep thinking about starting a Slow Cloth group and/or a global textiles group . . . anyone interested?

I've also been thinking about, and wanting to do a post about various kinds of eco-art -- the intersection of art and the environment (I've written about art and agriculture on my other blog).  Nature and art are inextricably intertwined, of course, and nature has provided us with inspiration from the dawn of humankind. Making art from unprocessed natural materials or integrating art and natural spaces, a la the brilliant Andy Goldsworthy, is one kind of eco-art. There are many ways that fiber artists are connected to this sphere; after all, until recently, all fiber came from plants. Just a couple of links to explore:

• Abigail Doan is a mixed media and environmental artist who works with fiber. Her work is extremely intuitive on one hand, and the way she uses threads and fibers in nature makes emotional sense, yet it's also challenging work with an intellectual and ethical context.
• Though I've not personally worked with natural dyes, this is a place where art and nature do an intimate dance. As mentioned in my previous post, Permacouture is exploring this area; Cheryl Kolander at Aurora Silk and others have also been pioneers.
• Nicole Dextras is a Vancouver artist -- take a look at her Weedrobes series.
• Lots of people have blogged about the World Beach Project and the radical Crocheted Coral Reef project, but the links are worth repeating if you've not discovered them yet (you're in for a treat).

I think all the renewed interest in the arts of spinning and felting is related to the environmental movement. We've finally figured out that food comes from the soil and the farm -- now we're beginning to understand where fabric comes from, too. The closer we get to that understanding, the more people want to work with fiber in its raw form. Fiber is as ancient and as intrinsic to community as food. And making it beautiful and meaningful connects us to soul and spirit, and to each other.

And now, with all this talk of ethereal and natural things, I must get my body to the yoga mat. Go find some inspiration in nature today, and create.

photo by Streuwerk.

Arte Y Pico Award and Blog Love

The lovely Arlee at DesignJournal blog has selected me for an Arte Y Pico award for creativity, design, interesting material and contributing to the blogging community. This is just so nice -- thank you, Arlee. I appreciate it so much.

There are 5 rules attached to this award and they are :

1) You have to pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also contributes to the blogging community, no matter what language.

2) Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his/her blog to be visited by everyone.

3) Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her/him the award itself.
4) The Award winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of Arte Y Pico blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award (blogger in Uruguay).
5) To show these rules.

So now it's my turn to pass this award along to five other bloggers. You may know these already, but if not do visit.

1. Sara at The Fabric of Meditation. First of all, I'm in awe of anyone who can blog so well in two languages. Second, her work is always a wonderful surprise.
2. Harmony's The Journey is the Prize blog about organic fabrics and the world of sustainable textiles. Harmony is a highly creative fabric designer, great businessperson, and all-over nice person who walks her talk very gracefully.
3. Dijanne's Musings of a Textile Itinerant never, ever fails to inspire and move me. She'll probably get this award many times over. Dijanne truly works from the heart and makes you feel like a close friend, though she has many thousands of readers.
4. Deidre's Abstractions blog -- as noted here, I've been a fan of Deidre's paintings on quilted surfaces for a long time, and now her blog is a chance to learn more about her thinking and process.
5. Pilar's Deux Frontieres blog is a brilliant journal of culture, art, textiles, design and life in Paris. Ahhhh. In some of my favorite alternate universes I'm living in Paris or London or another great capital of culture and society, but not today, at least not in this dimension of reality -- so I'm thankful for the blogs that take me there.

In other blog news: As I've mentioned, I write posts for EcoSalon.com. EcoSalon has been picked up by the blog aggregator Alltop.com, so I've spent some time using Alltop. They have pages for the top blogs in many topics, including green news and products, fashion, design, art, books, and a new page for crafts where both In A Minute Ago and Spirit Cloth are featured.

Finally, I've added an abbreviated version of my 10 Qualities of Slow Cloth to the sidebar. As promised, I'll begin my series of posts expanding on this list next week.

Home for Wandering Spirits

I chose the word magic as my guiding force for 2008 on an optimistic late December morning, and the universe promptly responded, first thing on January 1, with a wicked sense of humor. I haven't given much thought to magic since then, but it was the first word that came to mind when I saw this enchanting piece by Sara L at her The Fabric of Meditation blog, called Wanderhouse I:

And here is the detail of the spirit who lives in the Wanderhouse:

These pieces are so wonderful -- strange, ancient, knowing and fun at the same time. Visit Sara's blog for more of her intriguing and imaginative work. The Wanderhouse I had me thinking about all the nomadic and tribal people who carry their homes with them -- and it's often textiles, carpets and curtains, that go a long way toward making a home.

There are other artists working with the idea of spirit houses, like Carol Owen. In Thailand every building has a spirit house for the comfort of the resident spirits. It's a magical idea, rich with creative possibilities.

Craft 2.0, Authentic and Slow, and Extreme Slow

I've been thinking a lot about the last post and thought I'd say a little more. This is a long post .

I have no problem with anybody who wants to knit crazy acrylic scarves on size 17 needles, or scrapbook, or do no-sew sewing, or any other activity with their hands and hearts. It's really different from the approach to art, craft and design that I'm calling Slow Cloth or Authentic Cloth. There's nothing wrong with the people who are doing it, and nothing inherently wrong with what they're doing if they enjoy it and nobody gets hurt; the thing that gets under some of our skins, I think, is the marketing and selling of it.

I'm not even sure what Craft 2.0 means, but I think it's what String or Nothing was talking about -- lots of crafts skewing very young, marketed as hip and trendy, and suggesting that you really don't need any skill or time or commitment. "Make a sweater in a weekend!" "It's not your mother's knitting!" "It's not your grandmother's beadwork!" (There are always unnecessary exclamation points involved.) Some of the results are beautiful and charming, some are okay, and some are really awful. But it doesn't serve anyone to suggest that there's no value in going past beginner-level skills and kits and throwaway materials. (There's also a lot of use of recycled materials in these crafts, and that's fantastic, yet it's still often marketed in silly ways.)

I think what's most appealing for young women is that there's a lot of community, both electronic and real, in this movement. They're discovering the amazing sense of belonging that happens when women get together to talk and stitch. The stitching adds a dimension and connection that is nourishing and regenerative. There's nothing new about this. From time immemorial -- quilting bees being the best-known example -- these talk-and-stitch gatherings have had power.

I discovered it around 1990, living in Chicago and working on weekends at The Weaving Workshop, then on Diversey. The store was owned then by Marilyn Murphy, now president of Interweave Press. Amazing women worked there and knitted there -- Stacy, Melissa, are you out there? Once a month we'd all get together for potluck and knitting. Coming from a family with three brothers, it was truly my first positive experience of a group of women supporting, liking, and encouraging each other, and sharing creative work. Yes, we irreverently referred to those evenings as "stitch 'n bitch" and we all understood how great those evenings were. We just never thought to MARKET the concept or turn it into a book or a zeitgeist, and the world wouldn't have been ready if we had.

My Chicago friends were incredibly skilled knitters, and generous with everything they knew. I learned so much from them. We used to talk about having a "no-brainer" project that didn't require much attention, and then a more challenging one for moments of full presence. In what's becoming the "craft industry" we see a lot of no-brainer projects and not much else. And our culture devalues taking time and can barely imagine or support doing an art or craft over a span of years, and not taking shortcuts (I don't mean every project has to take years, though as we know, some inadvertently do).

Next time you're in Santa Fe, visit the Tai Gallery on Canyon Road and spend some time with the bamboo baskets there, made by very old Japanese basketmakers. You'll forget every trivializing joke you've ever heard or made about basketweaving. These vessels have an integrity, a life force, and a beauty that is indescribable, because years of learning and relationship to the materials have gone into them. They are made mostly by men (traditionally the skills aren't taught to women, and that's one reason the art is dying). This is from the gallery's Web site:

There are now less than a hundred working bamboo artists in Japan. The young people who have taken up the call to learn bamboo basket making make a commitment of time that is hard for us as Westerners to comprehend. The first ten years are devoted to learning the basic techniques of cutting, dyeing, and plaiting bamboo. After this is mastered, another one or two decades are spent developing as an artist. Artists begin to gain full recognition as they come into their fifties and sixties. There are a number of basket makers who are still working in their eighties. It is an honor for our gallery to represent some of the top living bamboo artists of Japan.

I guess you could call this Extreme Slow art. Most textile artists and artisans today don't have this mindset or cultural support, and we should all be a part of our time and our world. But the reverence, the authenticity and the respect for the materials is so rich, and if you are open to it, these baskets have a depth and a vibration that feels profound and eternal.

Somewhere between these baskets and throwaway trendy projects is Authentic Cloth. And it's taken an eternity to read this, right? Thank you! Back soon with inspiration and links and more.

Betsy Ross Would Be Proud

I've been supporting John Edwards in the primaries, but that doesn't keep me from feeling the thrill of possibility with Barack Obama, or the immense satisfaction of seeing a strong, smart woman as a serious presidential candidate. I'm a fan of Bill Richardson too -- I hope he ends up with a meaningful position in a Democratic administration next year.

I'd been wondering if any of the candidates had a connection to textiles or craft when I visited Kyra's Black Threads blog -- she has a link to Fiber Artists for Obama. And we know that John Edwards's father worked in a textile mill, and he talks eloquently about the demise of domestic textile production. Any other connections to textile art or garments? I don't think we'll see Hillary admitting to any needle arts -- too loaded for her -- but maybe if they win, Bill as First Mate  will continue to expand the White House collection of American crafts that Hillary began in 1993.

Or maybe he'll pick up the knitting or quilting needle himself -- it'd be good for his heart and keep him out of trouble, right? How about it, Bill? Take up the Slow Cloth cause and promote and protect the work of fiber artists around the globe and sustainability in textiles. Call me if you need some help.

Or maybe Obama will win and really bring attention to the contribution of African-American artists to our culture. In textiles, there's the Gee's Bend quilters, and much more. Faith Ringgold is one of our elder godmothers of contemporary quilting, and her work is spectactular, political and inspiring. I am also a huge fan of multimedia artist Betye Saar.

I had the pleasure of meeting Betye Saar once, when I worked at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago and she and her daughter Alison Saar had a joint exhibition. In the main gallery Julian Schnabel had an exhibition that was suffocating in its own art-world egotism and posturing. The Saars had a much smaller gallery and an absolute jewel of a show that quietly played second fiddle to Mr. Schnabel. But their authenticity, integrity and spirit was so immense that for me it far overshadowed the big whoop in the main gallery. The Saars gave me an unforgettable lesson about the meaning of making art versus "success" in the art world, and also about using culture and gender references in art in an effective and unapologetic way.

I thought one of my recent magazines also had reviews of African-American textile arts books, but my highly refined controlled-chaos organizational system is failing me. I'll find it. Meanwhile, the magazine stack is getting bigger. My new issues of Selvedge (No. 21, The Responsibility Issue) and Surface Design (Winter 2008, Structured Surfaces) came yesterday -- both breathtaking. I think Selvedge integrates its graphic design and its content better than anybody to produce a truly extraordinary, appetizing, collectable journal. And it totally, totally makes me want to move to England for a year or two to immerse myself in the textile world there.  

Surface Design editor Patricia Malarcher has tremendous authority and impeccable, sophisticated taste and intelligence, as well as being an artist herself, and her voice and sensibilities make this magazine extremely valuable too. In this new issue, my first stop will be the article on artist Yvonne Morton, who is inspired by textile arts of the Congo -- this is truly a Slow Cloth artist all the way.

Over on Beading at the Beach, BeadBabe49 questions meditation and stitching, and whether other artists talk about it and recognize it. I thought of her when I read Patricia Malarcher's editorial in Surface Design. She quotes Lenore Tawney: "I'm not just patiently doing it. It's done with devotion." Patricia goes on to say:

The sense of devotion embedded in structure is a subliminal text that is frequently visible in artworks of fibrous materials. The incremental repetitive gestures that accumulate into woven, knotted, looped, wrapped, or pieced-together surfaces leave evidence of quiet, and quieting, time dedicated to making.

Through that sense of quiet and meditative process, we can emerge and give our work a strong and passionate voice.