Red Thread Studio

Waltz Across Texas

I'm on my way to Houston for International Quilt Festival (for work) and then to Dallas for a day and a half. I've been to Dallas many times before, but never Houston. There are things about Texas that I really like -- the colorful, creative, rebel Texas mythology, the open road, the music, the Friday Night Lights nostalgia, the Anne Richardses and Willie Nelsons and Lyle Lovetts -- and a lot that feels pretty alien, like the sprawling oil-and-gas cities and the red-state majority. Texas has some phenomenal textile artists, like Jane Dunnewold and Mary Ruth Smith, and a lot of creative people working in Austin and elsewhere.

I'm most excited about the chance to meet Glennis, and Malka, who is one of my authors, and some of the other artists who'll be there.

And speaking of quilters, thanks to Elsie Campbell for mentioning this blog on her lovely blog. Maybe she'll be there too . . . in fact, if any of my readers will be there, please look for me. I'll be at the Quilting Arts booth some of the time, or email me at elainelipson at gmail dot com and we'll find a way to meet.

Meanwhile, I spent some time today looking for information on the Korean technique of pojagi - piecing small pieces of fabric, often sheer, with French seams so that there are no raw edges on the back. Here's a great link, and also click on the "wearables and theater" button on artist Chunghie Lee's site. There are some beautiful examples of pojagi on Flickr, but none are licensed for noncommercial reproduction. 

Now I must go pack. Updates soon.

Project 3/50 and Project 95

I've been meaning to note a couple of interesting local-economy initiatives. I think a lot of the "buy local" talk is oversimplified -- trade has been going on since humans began, and international trade is not new. But massive multinational corporations at the scale of Wal-Mart and Pepsi and many others takes us beyond trade to a frightening level of control and ownership, and that's why it's smart to return to an awareness of supporting local businesses.

I like the 3/50 Project, which asks participants to spend $50 each at 3 locally-owned brick-and-mortar businesses each month. If you can't spend $50, well, whatever you can; I think consciousness is the point. This came naturally last month; I supported my beloved auto care shop,woman-owned and locally-owned Hoshi Motors; my hair salon, owned by a very nice man named Paul; and a local store with a phenomenal inventory of ribbons, beads and some very fancy fabric. Not bad, considering that I have been doing very little shopping for quite some time now.

Then there's Project 95, subtitled Fabric Shoppers Unite. According to their totally unattributed statistic (really, it's so much more meaningful when we know where the numbers come from), 95 percent of fabric purchases are made at chain stores -- Joann's, Hancock, Michael's and Hobby Lobby, I presume, are the leaders.

In theory I support this 100 percent. In practice, the only local fabric store that remains within 25 miles of me seems to have an institutional policy of condescension and rudeness to customers that has simply exhausted my good intentions over the years. I rarely go there, and I rarely buy garment-sewing fabric anymore -- online buying is challenging. And when it comes to notions and patterns, no question, I go where the bargains are. For fabric, I would definitely spend money at the local store if it were a pleasant place to go. And sadly, my lovely local quilt shop closed a few months ago.

Beyond the nice round numbers and sound-bite missions, can these projects make a difference? Well, yes they can. Grassroots movements are incredibly powerful. As noted, though, they only work if there are alternatives to chain stores, and in the fabric world, we haven't really made those alternatives viable. I have a dear friend who created and owned one of the world's best fabric shops here back in the early 1990s; she worked hard at it but couldn't make a living. When she had her going-out-of-business sale, the vultures descended, of course. Today, more sophisticated in our understanding of marketing and trends, we might say she was undercapitalized, or her timing was off, or whatever --  but it was a big loss to the creative community here. And to me.

Where do you shop? I know many of my readers use unique ethnic textiles or repurposed fabrics, or are lucky to live near a great fabric shop. We are only as good as our tools and supplies, but we also do find ways to be resourceful.

Disturbing but not surprising: Rob Walker notes in his Murketing column that Americans average 20 square feet of retail space per person, versus European countries that top out at 3 per person.

A Weaver and a Gardener

Aimee Fitpatrick Martin is the author of "At Home with Jack Lenor Larsen," a story in the Southampton Press about LongHouse Reserve, the sanctuary Larsen founded "to exemplify living with art in all forms." Larsen is one of the best-known and most revered textile designers and craft advocates of the 20th century, now in his eighties and continuing to influence the 21st century. From the LongHouse site:

Through its arboretum, sculpture gardens, and educational programs, LongHouse brings together art and nature, aesthetics and spirit, with a strong conviction that the arts are central to living wholly and creatively. Dedicated to quality and integrity, LongHouse programs encourage a broad concept of learning. The art focus at LongHouse is ethnographic and handcrafts -- both areas of collecting with aspects for every purse. Some of these functions, at least on occasion; most merely lift the heart and expand the imagination.

Martin's article describes the residence at LongHouse and many of the artifacts, textiles and furnishings that Larsen selected. It's a fascinating look into the workings of a brilliant designer's process of creating a vision in the material world, in partnership with nature and in celebration of the handmade.

Larsen, with an astonishing list of international accomplishments and awards, says, “I am a weaver and a gardener. Both are slow and require much patience.” This struck me as remarkable; we're all trying to inflate our resumes and our titles, and he's opted for the most reductive description possible. Of course, that's easier when the world has already recognized that you matter, but it's so damn refreshing.

I was also taken by the article's opening quote, from Larsen's memoir: “I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t seeking identity through a sense of place.” In that sentence I feel like he articulated something I've been trying to do for 50 years and have never expressed so succintly -- seeking identity through a sense of place. It explains a lot. I need to ponder that for a while.

I went looking for an image of a Larsen textile to share and, as is the Way of the Web, came across another intriguing site. Craft in America is a nonprofit with a mission "to document and advance original handcrafted work through programs in all media, accessible to all. We are dedicated to the exploration, preservation and celebration of craft, the work of the hand, and their impact on our nation’s cultural heritage." Check it out -- there are about 300 pages of content at the site. Here is their page on Larsen.

And here is a living archive of Jack Lenor Larsen fabrics at the Minneapolis Institute for the Arts. From the archive:

Larsen Design Studio
Conquistador, 1966
Collection: Andean
Materials: Cotton
Classification: Surface Ornamentation- Dyed

99.1.188

Conquistador, introduced as part of the 1967 Andean Collection, was particularly successful and soon became one of the signature cloths of the company. In a note in the company archive Larsen writes that “Conquistador is my concept of how an Inca might handle a baroque motif. That is, flatly and without the robust movement typical in Europe. More like the stone walls of Peru.” For some of the colorways the cloth was dyed twice for a contrapuntal vibration of close value colors such as bronze and amethyst, or amber and brown to suggest a tortoise shell. The Spanish Colonial motif was scaled to fit upholstery cushioning and the total impact is one of great antiquitiy.



In addition to the initial four colorways (wild honey, tortoise, crimson and bronzed amethyst) Topaz, Blue Blood and Pigeon Blood were added at a later date. In 1977 Wild Honey was discontinued, but Tortoise and Pigeon Blood remained in production until 1985 when the company ceased batik production.
(Minneapolis Institute of the Arts, Larsen archive)

Sweethearts of the Rodeo

A friend of mine was joking about her taste for country music, and it reminded me that I've not written much about western wear. Country-and-western clothing is a textile art form all its own, especially when it was executed by masters like Nudie the Rodeo Tailor.  After all, what are our indigenous North American textile traditions? We've got Amish quilts, Navajo blankets and weaving, Hawaiian shirts, and yes, western wear.

my boots

When I first came to Colorado, I had a musical mentor who taught me about traditional country music and about Gram Parsons, the cosmic American cowboy himself. Naturally I started noticing the textiles that went with the music, and cool girls like Emmylou and the earliest iteration of the Dixie Chicks who were wearing them. My appetite for kitsch isn't quite what it used to be, but I still have a few pieces I love, including this 1940s shirt made of wool gabardine - it's very fitted, as might be expected from the "hollywood" label, so it makes for a very stylish vintage look. I think the buttons are not the originals.

And then there's the cowboy shirt I made back in the early 90s in Chicago, very sloooowly, with hand-beaded fringe, emroidery and applique. I wasn't brave enough to try smile pockets at the time. Folkwear has a pattern for very traditional western-style shirts with instructions for smile pockets, if you want to try your hand at it.

 

 

And this is what remains of a vintage canvas jacket, now patiently waiting to be creatively repurposed someday:

 

Not long after the cowboy shirt project, I'd moved on to making some rather loud but really fun pieced and appliqued vests, many of them for my musician friends. I'll put those in another post. But cowgirls were some of the most audacious and independent women in American culture back in the day, and even if you -- like me -- have never been on a horse, it's good to remember we've all got a little cowgirl soul.

Bodhisattva, Would You Take Me By The Hand

Lots of walking today. My favorite way to explore a city is on foot; there's really no substitute. I've walked miles across London, through the vertical mazes of Hong Kong, and as a resident in the streets of New York and Chicago and San Francisco. Why be in a dank, crowded subway when you can see the city? 

Here in Washington, I've usually been here for trade shows and not as a tourist; I've often been to the National Gallery but not done the full-on walking thing, and now I have the chance. My suite is only a little more than a mile from the White House, but once you're down in the museum zone, you're clocking some miles. 

I think it's worth noting that our highest halls of government and power are surrounded by art, lots of art, and culture. These museums are open 364 days a year, and you just walk in; no charge, they belong to We the People, damn it. And, at least at the Freer, where I went today, there were no guards in the rooms; nothing but -- come on in, make yourself at home, a quick security check of the bag, and enjoy. There didn't even seem to be restrictions on photographs. 

The Freer Gallery is a little jewel of a museum that had an interesting show of paintings by James McNeill Whistler in the context of his interest in Asian art. Charles Freer, who founded the museum, had parallel interests in ancient Asian and contemporary American art, and he felt that in Whistler these two paths converged. I also saw the beautiful Japanese tea bowls repaired with silver and gold; in a year when I've felt so irreparably damaged and broken sometimes, there's surely a message there. I saw galleries of Japanese screens and scrolls, Islamic decorative gorgeousness, Buddhist art, and some beautiful statues of Shiva. Below is a large 12th century Bodhisattva (the best photograph I could get with my limited skills and the museum lighting). 

Can't we make a law that our political leaders have to just sit with this statue once in a while, and contemplate compassion? It's right down the street from their offices. I know, church and state and all that, but it might do some good.

Now, here's what I especially want to share with you. The Freer Gallery has some fantastic interactive exhibitions online. One in particular is called Style and Status: Imperial Costumes from Ottoman Turkey, and the opening splash, as well as some of the robes, has lots of those beautiful wish-fulfilling cintamani dots. 

On the way home I walked by the Obamas' house, on the north side, and it made me very happy to know we have a really good, not perfect but very, very good, honest man and a totally awesome woman running things inside and trying to fix this country's damage. See? It's like a little party outside all the time.

Quilts of Soul, Strength and Scarcity

I saw the exhibition Gee's Bend: The Architecture of the Quilt at the Denver Art Museum yesterday. This is not the same exhibition of quilts that appeared in 2003 at the Whitney Museum, inspiring critic Michael Kimmelman in the New York Times to call them "some of the most miraculous works of modern art that America has produced." Those quilts have since appeared on postage stamps, among other things, and made the Gee's Bend quilting style famous. But the quilters, the spirit and the story are the same.

It's the story that makes these works astounding. From an artistic viewpoint, they are all visually arresting; some are more successful than others. A few quilts are incredibly dynamic, with colors and shapes making an inventive, harmonious whole enhanced by the raw stitching, exposed knots and uneven binding that reveal the maker's hand. Some are more jarring. Most quilt artists today would probably attempt to develop more refined techniques, unless they were self-consciously trying to imitate this style.

But these women, until recently, were not aiming to be quilt artists, selling in galleries and exhibiting in museums, and could hardly imagine that possibility. They were trying to inject some creative salvation into the task of keeping their families warm in lives of the most abject poverty in this great but sometimes unjust country.

The town of Gee's Bend is isolated on three sides by the Alabama River, with limited access on the fourth side. Its residents are African-American, descended from slaves, and historically subjected to every injustice thereof --  a ferry service was shut down in 1962 to prevent the townspeople from registering to vote, not resuming until two years ago, and education and opportunity was minimal at best. In Wilcox County today, almost half of children under 18 live below the poverty line.

The characteristic Gee's Bend quilting style emerged and evolved in this insulated community, passed down through the generations. The quilts are made from used clothes and fabrics, many using a simple Housetop or partial Log Cabin block, others with a more random structure. Fabric pieces tend to be large, or as large as repurposed used clothing (or corduroy scraps from Sears, Roebuck & Co.) would allow, and few of the quilts are squared off; some have binding on one or two sides only; the quilting stitches follow crooked, curved or bending lines and the stitches are big by quilting standards. They were made quickly to be used quickly, for warmth in unheated rooms. Yet the women took the time and had the spirit and imagination to make creative choices, often dramatic and unexpected and playful.

To see these quilts on the walls of an elegant museum gave me some cognitive dissonance, because they reverberate with this story of scarcity few of us could overcome, and strength that most of us would be hard-pressed to find; it's in every stitch. This story is in many patchwork quilts, but it is especially poignant here. It's also a story of joy and creativity and the deep relations that have held this community together.

Today, thankfully, many of the Gee's Bend quilters have benefited from the popularity of the quilts, though there have been some lawsuits regarding payments, intellectual property rights and licensing agreements. I was moved by the story of one woman who stopped quilting for 20 years because of illness and depression, overcome by a life harder than I can imagine. When the Gee's Bend quilts were "discovered" and began to sell and return some benefits to the women, her despondency also began to life, and she was able to stitch again.

A book on display at the exhibition said that she had prayed all her life that her last years would be her best years. She felt that her prayers had been answered.

Quiltapalooza: International Quilt Study Center Opens

The new building for the International Quilt Study Center opens Sunday (March 30) in Lincoln, Neb., with an opening exhibition by Nancy Crow. I'm very excited about this (and had hoped to be there this week), as I have a dear brother and my most awesome niece and two supreme nephews in Lincoln.

On my last visit, I sat in on a conversation consisting of two hours discussing the football team -- on which the University spends many, many millions of dollars every year -- followed by grumbling about the $12 million in private funds spent on this innovative building. One particular person didn't think anyone would care about quilts, and that the Center wouldn't bring prestige or dollars to Lincoln.

It's unfortunate that the Quilt Center has to be up against this kind of thinking, and I have to say I heartily disagree and I hope this man will be proven very wrong. This is a world-class addition to Lincoln, a brilliant and forward-looking tribute to the Midwest and American quilting heritage, and worth a visit or many; if you're on a cross-country road trip involving Interstate 80, this is where you definitely want to make a stop. Other quilt exhibitions and events are also taking place in Lincoln this week, including a show opening April 4 at the Lux Center for the Arts curated by artist and blogger  Lisa Call with quilts by Lisa, Deidre Adams, and others.

(click to enlarge photo)

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.

Slow Cloth, Fashion Design, and Garment Sewing

Can fashion fit into the Slow Cloth concept? How about home garment sewing? I say -- absolutely yes to both. While most of the people who have visited and commented and linked to this blog (thank you all so much) are textile artists, there are related and overlapping communities -- people in the fashion and home textiles industries,  and people who just love to sew garments and approach sewing from a perspective of craftsmanship, quality, and creativity.

There is art in every craft and craft in every art. As someone who loves garment sewing as well as other textile arts, the only conflict I see is how to best use limited time and resources and not get lost in dilettante-ishness.

On the commercial fashion side, I've been reading up on the Slow Fashion movement as part of my research on the sustainable apparel market. In addition to using environmentally appropriate materials and eliminating abusive labor practices, Slow Fashion also rejects the trend-focused planned obsolescence that has driven the fashion industry for decades. Slow Fashion emphasizes lasting design and craftsmanship, so you can buy fewer clothes with a longer life. Design and color palettes are compatible from season to season, so you can build a wardrobe instead of replacing everything in an increasingly rapid and wasteful cycle. Brand loyalty and quality replace quantity.

Last week, this review of  several men's fashion shows appeared in the New York Times. As always, fashion writer Cathy Horyn's analysis is perceptive and intellectually challenging. In "It Never Hurts to Quote the Classics," she talks about designers referencing  handcrafts and focusing on craftsmanship while also creating entirely modern garments.

There are no specific shout-outs here to Slow Fashion or sustainable apparel, but throughout the fashion design and garment industry this shift seems to be taking place. Admittedly, it's much less of a stretch to talk about classic design and craft in men's clothing, which has always been less exploitative than women's fashion. But still, it seemed noteworthy.

A little closer to a textile artist's heart is Alabama Chanin, a true Slow Cloth company. From their site:

Here, in Florence, Alabama, quilting and textiles have long been part of our history. So instead of sourcing our manufacturing far away, we have chosen to utilize the skills and knowledge of local artisans, who hand sew every garment. We sew by hand not because we don’t like technology, but because we choose to preserve these living arts. Modern concepts, coupled with old-time stitching techniques, not only strengthen the bond between our past and present; they also have the unique power to create beautiful, one-of-a-kind garments that are infused with care. Despite this nod to the past, our designs are modern; some are sexy, others are modest, all are comfortable and made for living. We use new and recycled materials in a way that showcase quality of cut, attention to detail and the artistry of the hands that created them.

Founder Natalie Chanin previously founded Project Alabama, a company with a similar mission. She sold the company and now Project Alabama products are made in India. But it looks like things turned out all right for Chanin, and her new company looks inspiring.

So whether you're a fashion designer, a dedicated follower of fashion or a home garment sewer, or both, there is plenty of room to incorporate textile traditions and skills, be innovative and forward-thinking, and conscious in approach. There's a lot of inspiration out there. Let me know your thoughts and ideas about this, and have a lovely, creative weekend. I'll be working on my sustainable apparel research and my blogroll . . .

Intermission: Unarmed and Unconditional

It's the official holiday of Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday, a day for visionaries and idealists everywhere,  though I'm not sure that he would have characterized himself that way. He was said to be politic and pragmatic -- in the service of his beautiful, radical, revolutionary dream of equality and nonviolence. For every artist, agent of social change, and dreamer, here is my favorite MLK quote:

I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word. 

Unarmed truth. Unconditional love. May you have it, find it, share it, make it.