It’s been a stormy spring for me, so the call from Lindsay Miś was an extra anchor holding me to my mooring. 

Whoop! Lindsay is the Director of New Bedford’s public art organization, DATMA. This summer’s theme is “Shelter.” Two pieces from my Immigration Windows series were chosen. Twelve South Coast artists will make up this year’s event.

Summer public art is something I look forward to since moving to the South Coast and I’m so glad to be on this crew. The panels will be on display from June through October 2023.

Using an adaptation of the cathedral windows quilting technique, you’ll find felt, embroidery, applique and knitting in the real life works. The digital images will be flat and weather proof! 

Does one of the images look familiar? It’s:

By Their Hands, We Are Fed which was part of the 2019 Immigration Windows public art project in Verona, Italy.

The hot pink work on the left is:

21 Life Salute which was my response upon learning that 21 people died of COVID in immigration detention facilities during 2020.

Now I just need to have my hub snap some photos of me working in my studio.

Without a nudge from Cat Beaudoin, I would have missed the Arlington Center for the Art’s call for art. Ana Kristina Gorannsen curated a wonderful collection of fiber art in “Labor of Love.”  One of my Immigration Windows art quilts was among the 30 pieces chosen.

The reception brought together many of the artists. What a happy rush to see the people and their work in person. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that social media gives windows on artist work, especially during COVid times. But getting up close to the art and spending personal time with the artists was fantastic. How nice to see Kendra, Stacey and Hilde again in real life!

Many of the artists encouraged people to reach out and touch their work. Why not? Audiences always feel the pull of textiles… and it makes sense, as they surround us every day. It’s one way that fiber artists are different than painters. Having spent much of my time in quilt shows, wearing white gloves to provide a protected opportunity to view the back of a quilt, this meant I had a bit of adjusting to do… indeed, I may not have even had a “touch me” sign on my work.

During the reception, the ACA gave visitors and artists “ballots” to vote for their favorite work. With so many great pieces, how do I choose? Do I choose exquisite technique, the big wowza boom, the new mixing of the media and ideas? Do I have to choose only one?

In the end, I chose the large scale knit keyboard that you can step across to make music by Irmandy Wicaksono.  Fresh back from a trip to Washington, D.C., the choice made sense. I attended a virtual dance performance, a light exhibit experience ands trolled amont eh many museums, feeling patriotic and proud to be American and inspired by the many ways creativity expresses itsefl.

The keyboard didn’t win, but that gem by Anna Thai, Colorful Nature won the people’s choice. The curator’s choice was Evan Rosenberg’s Impermanence, which was a great piece, too.

My piece, “Immigration Windows: By Their Hands, We are Fed,” was happy to be on display again. Ok, it’s a piece of art, and maybe it doesn’t have feelings. You may recall that I made this originally to hang horizontally for the group exhibit at Verona Tessile in 2019. I have feelings for this complex and historically important topic. Indeed, it was a labor of love.

Thanks to Kristina for including me and to the Arlington Center for the Arts for shining a light on the Labor of Love that fiber artists bring to their art.

Linda sent us outdoors to take note of what we saw and report back. The quilters who lived in the Alsace region didn’t see the wooden window flower baskets, the rooftops or sense the small scale in roundabouts or sidewalks. So many decisions that created the sense of time and place.

Quilters use a wide range of techniques. Wouldn’t it be interesting to view a range of  techniques that interpret world locations? SAQA is an international organization, after all.

“Historic Detail” sought to explore the sparks of inspiration cued by time and place.

Well, the Historic Detail virtual gallery is live now!

What an rewarding experience – and a fun way to explore the art of my fellow SAQA members. I worked to highlight techniques and perspectives, yet created a unifed experience.

I hooked my computer up to the TV so I could see the images in a larger format. SAQA told me to only accept one piece per artist, aiming for 28 – 32 works in the exhibit. However, when I accidentally chose two pieces from one artist, picking between them wasn’t easy. Taking this one away meant others didn’t glide together, so maybe I needed to mix it up a bit.  What a good way to spend my time.

Check out “Historic Detail” and let me know what you think – or let the artists know!

And if you’re a SAQA member, think about submitting to the Virtual Gallery – it’s free and allows your work to participate in other shows.

Thanks to SAQA for this fun member perk!

Scientists report that plankton, the building block of our oceans, consume and sometimes process micro plastics found throughout the water column.

Building Blocks: 1 was finished in time for last October’s @Doorway_a_Gallery skill share, so I took the path of least resistence and just dropped it off for the show.

This piece includes wool felt that I overdyed with Autumn Olive leaf dye bath, embroidered using cut up ice bags from our summer cruise and machine quilted.

My hub worries that my plastic hoarding habit is growing, so I guess it’s time to finish more work so he can understand what I’m really up to.

Plastic and stitching can be a great combo – especially because it performs pretty nicely when left outside. Hmmm….

The reception is August 12, 2022 from 5 – 7 pm. Hope to see you there!

• Respect for the other  • Citizenship  • Compromise 

• Country over party and corporate influence 

• Courage  • Candor  • Compassion  • Creativity
Core American Values promoted by the Violet Protest

Can we agree on these American values? Artist Ann Merton thought so, and sought to remind the 117th Congressional delegation of their obligations to their constituents. With that, the Violet Protest launched.

Calling out to those who create with textiles, red and blue 8″ squares were gathered in hopes of creating a violet wash of expression. Knitters, weavers, quilters, crocheters, embroiderers, surface design textile artists of all kinds stepped up. More than 2,000 people from all 50 states and many Canadian provinces made at least 5 squares.

I’m one of 229 people in Massachusetts who donated squares.

Did you notice only four squares? As I photographed before sending them off, a flared edge on a knit square caught my eye. I pulled back the bind off and chose a different technique then popped it in the mail! At least it got to Arizona by the deadline.

Creating the five squares was straightforward, in principle. My stash yielded fabric, felt, thread and yarn that fit within the Violet Protest’s framework. But how to best express the seven principles and the message of the protest?

Probably too much energy was spent on this topic. As the deadline neared, my goal switched to imbibing each stitch with the unity, determination and good will of the project. I thanked Congress for their work. I scolded Congress for the divisions that they represent. I gave a pep talk and promimsed to do my best to embody those values in my civic life. And I finished those squares within the framework, by the deadline.

Squares that reached Arizona by January were included in an exhibit at the Phoenix Art Museum. It looked glorious, and yet not all of the 13,500 squares donated had arrived yet.

After the exhibit, Ann and the team packed up 24-25 squares and an explanation of the project for each of our 435 members of Congress.

Did the Representatives see them? Did they feel them? Will they feel the mandate demanded?

We don’t know yet. But each of us can hold those values to guide our own behaviors. There’s a lot to do, and each of us can contribute to civic life.

Thank you, Ann, for working so hard to create this project. She hopes to make a documentary about the Violet Protest, and if you’d like, you can donate to that effort.

“Because let me not be defined by my gender! Let me not have to create works that are a reflection of the single most obvious difference between me and the standard!!

Let me not be defined by my “otherness” but rather my “sameness”!!!”

Luke Haynes after his interview with Abby Glassenberg’s podcast While She Naps 

 I miss the quarterly SAQA MARI meetings (Studio Art Quilt Associates Massachusetts Rhode Island Chapter). Heading out on those Saturday mornings were special treats. The meeting format was pretty straightforward: chitchat, then a presentation on technique or arts management (how I loved the meetings where Vicki Jensen at ProChem shared her vast knowledge), more chitchat over packed lunch and then show and tell. If not carpooling with another art quilter, I’d detour to discover destinations near the meeting location. Many times, though, the in person meeting would drive me straight back to my studio for play and progress on my own work.

The SAQA MARI programming committee adapted with the times and now offers Zoom alternatives. On May 16, the guest speaker was Luke Haynes. His express ride through his approach, inspiration and exploration of quilt as object, as sculpture, made from used textiles and celebrating himself, his community and quilt history lingered long after I clicked “Leave Meeting.”

If you don’t know Luke’s work, think big. We’re talking at least seven feet square densely quilted three layers, made from used textiles and using traditional quilt blocks as the backdrop for a portrait. Inspired by famous compositions and iconic paintings, his portraits of friends and people in his neighborhood inject his quilts with contemporary sense of place and immortal remembrance. These art quilts hang on walls in galleries and also grace beds. Quilts often are anonymous works, signed on the back. Luke signs in all caps on the front, and even makes his name part of the composition. 

A quilter after my own heart, Luke photographs his beautiful work outdoors, draped in stunning natural settings, wrapped around people. These objects transform space as it  transforms as a work of art. His objects are beautiful and useful. Luke chooses to challenge the role and place for art. What do we value? What is desirable and worth commemorating?  How we carry those parameters forward?

Sometime in the mid 1990s, Michael James shook up the quilt world by saying something to the effect of quilting will not move forward as an art form until quilters create art. I would have read this in Quilter’s Newsletter magazine or perhaps the International Quilt Association. Making quilts near Rome in those days, when the internet was young, I found James’ statement thought provoking and I tried to get my head around his perspective. 

At one of the first quilt exhibits in Italy, I remember a surprised and perplexed visitor looking at my work and exclaiming, “This isn’t a quilt. It’s art.”

In her mind, art was a world apart. She came for quilts, that iconic American bed covering whose popularity bubbled up in those days. It was another expression of “made by hand” that Italians cherish. While textile hand work was overwhelmingly women’s work, an “artigiana/o” or artisan is anyone who creates or manufactures objects. Tailors, cheesemakers, boat manufacturers all are artisans.

After his 45 minute presentation, question and answer time wasn’t as spirited as I thought it may be. Was I the only one who was still taking it in? Did others in the mainly female over 60 audience find themselves pondering questions afterwards? The first question was more of a statement: she pondered the perspective difference and vision he had. Is she still thinking about it? I checked out the SAQA MARI Facebook group, and the conversation was sparse.

I love the way Luke wraps himself, his neighborhood and the way galleries are happy to accept his work as art. What would Michael James think?

Maybe that conversation will happen some day. In the meantime, I’ll head back to my studio and keep on making things. 

Thank you to the artists whose legacies sustain us today. Thank you to today’s artists whose creations and connections lead us toward tomorrow.

Mary Oliver’s poetry is one way I slow down to appreciate the beauty of existence.

Wishing you a fulfilling journey.

In our house, she was known as the “Closet Lady.”

Nearly a decade ago, she found me through the grapevine. I repaired and recreated textiles. Her silk Roman shades needed mending, suffering sun damage. She insisted that the repairs happen without uninstalling shades. I could adapt, no problem.

Thus began five years of journeys to her meticulously decorated home. I would sew, repair, reweave and piece together the silk textiles carefully chosen to coordinate with the furniture, paintings and other decorative elements. 

We set appointments on the phone, from her land line only. I introduced her to the pleasures of a smartphone. She promptly purchased one, but I never saw her use it. 

How did Closet Lady acquire her moniker? In her front entry, the coat closet had a door. When you opened it, there was a large gold French passamenterie gold tassel at the end of the light pull. It looked out of place with the wooden hangarars and neatly stacked cloth covered storage boxes on the shelf above. She purchased smocked gold dupioni silk to make a curtain that created a backdrop for the tassel. When she opened the closet door and pulled the tassel light cord, the closet glimmered.”It gives me great pleasure to take my guests’ coats and jackets and keep them in a gracious location,” she mused after I installed the curtain.

Like me, silk and wool were irresistible to her. Silk curtains, silk shades, silk duvet covers, wool paisley jacquard weave upholstery adorned windows, archairs, piano stools. She had worked with a designer to decorate the home when she first purchased it, but clearly she was in charge of the project. To find the exact colors, textures and patterns was a grueling process and she had no desire to do it again.

All repairs happened at her home. Packing up my tool bag, I curated a selection of threads in a range of weights and fibers that reflected the home’s palette. Pearl cottons, silk, wool and cotton embroidery threads, buttonhole thread plus machine and hand sewing threads were neatly lined up in a box. A daylight lamp and sewing machine often traveled with me. Normally, it was a four hour stint at her place.

Of course I should stay for lunch! Dainty dishes, cloth napkins and vintage flatware elevated the deli salad as we discussed Museum exhibits, current affairs and political escapades. A stickler for grammar, she would frequently bemoan errors she heard on NPR or in the New York Times. These lapses were not just noted, but reported to the perpetrator. My conversational contributions were subject to the same scrutiny. 

While eschewing my grammatical errors, she would bring her writing to me for analysis, ever searching for the perfect word and tone. I suggested synonyms and phrasing options for her correspondence. Mind you, this was included in my $35/hr textile tech charges. She encouraged me to charge my editorial hourly rate, but I never did.

Sections of the textiles most beloved to her had more reweaving than original fabric. Did she really want to sink more hours into extending their fragile lives? My schedule was tighter, working deadlines on projects that paid better and were located closer to home. I gave her the number of a great upholstery business that could recover a few of her chairs when she found the right replacement fabric.

We exchanged holiday cards. On occasion, we would send each other newspaper clippings. 

In the summer of 2019, she sent me a letter asking me to please come, as her textiles needed me. She would gladly pay my time in transit and hoped I could fit a trip in as soon as possible. I felt split: this gig didn’t pay much, but her gracious hospitality and appreciation for our time together put this offer in a different light.

I responded that could get there in the fall. If she wanted to drive or have them delivered to me, I would work on them gradually. That summer was so busy, it didn’t occur to me until I wrote her 2020 New Year’s card that she hadn’t responded.

In February 2021, my New Year’s card to her returned to me. “Unoccupied” was scrawled across the envelope.

Discreet as she was, traces of her personal life on the internet are nondescript and few. Deep in a pdf newsletter of Boston club, there was reference to her death. While the exact date wasn’t listed, late summer 2019 is probable.

Knowing that she had no children and her nephew was the closest family member she mentioned, I wonder what happened to her carefully curated home. What about that gold silk smocked curtain? Those gorgeous tassels that she enjoyed every day?

I am grateful to have known her.