Marking Time 4, 2020 - 2021, thread, hand-dyed silk cocoons (tea, coffee, walnut and oak gall ink), teabag, 3 x 2.75 inches
The dark of winter…
I’ve been thinking about the influence of the seasons on my work. In the Fall and Winter, with ongoing pandemic fears and shutdowns, tumultuous chaos in the world, the shortened, colder days, and early darkness, I often felt overwhelmed. I was content to be tucked inside, fire going, tea kettle whistling, my focus narrowing into specific projects that could be broken into smaller parts. It helped to calm my overwhelmed brain, curbed the sense of having little control. It gave order and structure that felt manageable.
Two main projects filled this season. For Overwritten: 1461 Days of the Trump Administration I burned pages in a medical textbook in response to the breakdown of knowledge, facts, and humanity that I saw related to the last president’s administration. For COVID Cost I burned sheets of handmade abaca paper in direct response to the horrifying New York State COVID-19 death count. On the side I had also begun explorations into two other projects: dying and stitching silk cocoons which developed into a larger installation Emergence and collaging and embroidering on teabags (Marking Time). By design I was able to break down each project into bite sized bits from which I could pick and choose. Each had an overall arching concept that allowed me to work towards a larger finished piece but in a way that wasn’t overwhelming. Collaging or stitching one teabag, burning one abaca sheet or book page, dye and stitch some cocoons — in my studio, at the dining room table, in front of the fireplace — building little by little towards a greater whole.
Bursting forth…
“I can feel myself expand.”
Marking Time 30, 2020 - 2021, thread, rusted paper, teabag, 3 x 2.75 inches
As the days get longer, the light more brilliant, blooms burst forth and the outdoors call to me, I discover that after tucking inward for months, it is time to open and let more in. Spring breezes, especially in the evening, carry wafting scents of lilac, viburnum and cherry blossom urging me to get outside, sink my hands in the soil and take longer walks. I can feel myself expand. I itch to get back to cyanotype, to create hand drawn plates, and to use the sun’s warming rays to make these ideas physical. I want to return to papermaking, and I plot to set up a temporary outdoor area to make paper in which to embed things that I've been collecting this past year. I want to experiment with the sculptural qualities of paper. And perhaps attempt to make my own dyes. New ideas, new methods and processes, and more experimentation… I am thinking of different types of projects than I did in the winter.
Changing seasons
work in progress drawing
Perhaps biologically there is a human response to follow the seasons. I no longer crave lattes and hot chocolate, winter squash and potatoes, but instead hanker for iced tea with lemon and mint, arugula salad with pear or grapefruit. In my most recent collaged and stitched tea bags pink, yellow and purple flowers sprout and shoot up - different from the more subdued tea bags I collaged during the winter. Ideas are popping up as readily as the tulips and hyacinth reach skyward and bloom. I find the need to use pinks, yellows, bright blue, and spring green in my work. Ideas and projects that were percolating, fermenting, literally and figuratively, during the fall and winter, now burst forth finally becoming whole. There is space now for new ideas, for new exploration, and even, new hope.
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