How I Spent my Summer Holidays - Part 2

This need to sum up what happened over the summer must date back to those after-the-holidays essays we were required to write every September in elementary school. Or maybe it's that the summer goes by so quickly that I want to capture the memories of those blissfully sunny days before they disappear entirely. Yesterday morning I had to put on my fleece-lined slippers in the coolness of the day, and sitting in my comfy chair, I could hear a flock of Canada geese trying out flying in formation overhead.  Certain signs of the change in season. But the summer was a good one - the last week especially, spent at our family cabin on Hornby Island. Two of our four children pictured here,

and two of our three grandchildren.

We had hikes through Helliwell (Nora and Molly are climbing on one of Helliwell's big maple trees in this pic), and BBQ's, and many beach days with lots of water activities, and all the good things that go into a summer holiday.

The Hornby Quilt Show is always a highlight, and once again I was invited too set up a table there and o sell items made by the Bitengye Designers, with all proceeds going to the Widows' Gardens Project that David is involved with in Southern Uganda.

This quilt, with the inner blocks embroidered by two of the women, and borders added by a third was for sale, but hasn't found a home yet. Soon I hope.

And I was able to attend a number of exhibits in other mediums during the summer months. This tapestry comes from one on at present at The Old Schoolhouse Gallery in Qualicum Beach. Unfortunately I didn't record the name of the artist, but it was magnificent.

Grant Leier and his wife Nixie Barton also had an exhibit there. The colour and layering and joy of Grant's work is particularly appealing to me, but I also love Nixie's treatment of fields in her landscapes below. Sometimes I forget how important it is (as well as a great pleasure) to take oneself on an "artist's date", as Julia Cameron calls it. Once a week is what she recommends, and I'm going to try to heed those words of wisdom in the coming months.

But for now I am returning to my own work. A fourth "African Collage", as I've come to call them, is almost finished, and now I'm off to a Mixed Media workshop with Carol Nelson at the Pacific Northwest Art School on Whidbey Island for the rest of the week. Life is good.

A Fine Line - at the Ladysmith Waterfront Gallery

This week saw the opening of the Fibre Art Voices (FAV) exhibit at Ladysmith Waterfront Gallery. I have been a member of this small local group of fibre artists for some years, and we've had small exhibits in the past, but this was our first big show. The main focus of the exhibit were the pieces we made for A Fine Line - each of us making one larger piece and two smaller complementary pieces, in which we interpreted the theme in our own individual ways. Here are some of them:

 Karrie Phelps

 June Boyle

 Gayle Lobban

 Gail Tellett

 Hennie Aikman, Margaret Kelly, Pippa Moore

And a closer view of mine. I realize now that I am missing a closer photo of Margaret and Hennie's work, and the images I have of Gladys's pieces don't do them justice, but his gives you a sense of the flow around the walls. While the themes varied, the line was continuous - a concept borrowed from a SAQA exhibit whose catalogue had fallen into our hands.

A Fine Line filled two walls of this large and light-filled gallery, while the two remaining walls held work that responded to the theme, Indigo. A few pics of these:

 Hennie Aikman, Margaret Kelly, Karrie Phelps, June Boyle, Pippa Moore

 Gail Tellett, June Boyle

 Gayle Lobban, June Boyle

Pippa Moore

It was terrific to meet those of you who were able to come to our opening reception yesterday afternoon, but not too late for more of you to visit us in person during this coming week. It's been a terrific experience to mount this exhibition, as well as to share it with the public. 

How I Spent My Summer Holidays - Part I

This week, I came home from two weeks of camping and travelling. First I joined a friend in driving the loop from Duncan to Cowichan River and then over what used to be logging roads to Port Renfrew, then south almost as far as Victoria before turning north and homeward again. The weather was glorious, and we camped first by the ocean and then in the rainforest of the west coast of the island.

Look at all the shapes of those leaves. So many in such a small area - all turning their faces up to catch what sunlight they can. Specimens were gathered and pressed and will find their way into my work at some later date.

The fireweed at the side of the road reminded me of my growing up years in Ontario, and that it's now August.

The beach at Port Renfrew, just in front of our camping spot. And no, we weren't tempted to swim. Way too cold!

We hiked up into an old growth forest - Avatar Grove - where many of these giants live. Amazing!

And noticed how small the ferns were on the forest floor, and spread out to catch the light. So different than in newer forests.

                            

Until we came upon this tree, reputed to be the gnarliest tree in Canada, and is found at the end of the trail. Well worth the climb. It was so good to get outside in enjoy these warm summer days, to live simply and to take time to notice the world around us. Good too to be away from the internet, in fact we didn't even have phone reception. I couldn't have been happier. And while I didn't get any work done, I did have some hand-stitching with me, and more importantly, I'm learning not to feel guilty about what I'm not getting done when I have these opportunities. The work was here waiting for me when I got home, and I feel immeasurably energized by all I experienced. 

Choices, or You Can't Do It All

This week I've been thinking about choices, about how there isn't just one right direction to go in, much as there's not one right partner for you or one right friend for you. It's more about reaching a crossroads - in relationships, in careers, in adventures, in artistic direction - and having to make a choice. I can go this way or that way. The only thing that's certain, is that I can't stay exactly where I am. Or if I do, I'm going to have the most boring, but safe life ever. I think that's why I like this small work above - The Red Door - there are nine possible doors, and which door am I going to choose. I really have no idea where any of these doors are going to take me, but must still make a choice. And then I must walk through the door (this is where courage is needed!) and see what happens.
I have often included both doors and windows in my quilts - they are such a wonderful metaphor for the path to discovery and adventure. Which door indeed?
Back in my twenties, I spent the better part of a year back-packing around Europe. I didn't have a list of places I must go, destinations that I needed to check off on a list, although I had some notion of what might appeal to me. I headed off from New York city on a Greek freighter, only because I wanted to experience first-hand how big the ocean is. And the only reservation I made for myself in that year was the very first one, in Athens. After that, I chose where I went depending on who I met, and what they told me, and what I discovered on my own. It was a wonderful, wonderful time. Sometimes I stayed in the same place for 2-3 weeks at a time.

Yes, this is me, on the ferry to Mykonos. Where I soon met a fellow Canadian and a Kiwi, who became my travelling companions for a month or so. Where I learned about ancient history for the first time - touching stones that had been carried into place three thousand years before. Where I felt what it's like to run across a bed of sea urchins with bare feet, and then have the caretaker at the youth hostel painstakingly remove them one by one. Where I first tasted baklava. None of these things would have happened if I hadn't chosen the Greek freighter door. I couldn't possibly have guessed at all that would follow that, but that choice, the first of many, led to so many amazing experiences. And so it is, perhaps, with the creative life. We need to make choices about which direction we'll go in. We need to take that risk. And then we can open up to see what happens. How marvelous!

My Studio in the Woods

 I am only just home from a week of camping. 

Beautiful sunshine, and life pared down to its essentials -

a comfy bed, good food, and good company.

 Looking through the trees to the lake,

watching the squirrels and listening to the birdsong.

 And looking way, way up to the trees whispering overhead.

 Collecting new leaves to press, and later to print,

 Noticing the dappled light on alders along the shore,

Marvelling at the unique shape, not only of each leaf, but also of each branch.  

 Taking a little time to hand-stitch an indigo piece in progress,

And to jot down some of my ideas for possible future work, as well as getting back to my early morning journalling practice.

Sometimes I forget how important it is to get outdoors and live amongst the trees for a time.

So sweet. Such a gift. So thankful.

What Makes Me Happy?

The review that started with last week's blog has come about as part of Lisa Call's Masterclass (which is most excellent, by the way), and continues in a slightly different direction this week. Last week I chose some of the work I've made that I am most pleased with I should be concentrating on, based on those pieces.  I was really looking at what subjects they were about. Since then, though, I've realized that although the subject matter may change from one piece to the next, the story I am telling with my work remains the same. I remember hearing Valerie Hearder say some years ago, that we all really only have one story to tell. At the time, I mulled that over, and wasn't sure I agreed with her but now I think I understand the wisdom in her words a little better. So I re-visited my own work, those pieces that please me the most, and this time I asked myself if there are commonalities in the way they're constructed, or in what materials are used. This is what I came up with:

I love working with bright, saturated colours - mostly commercial fabrics, although I do add hand-dyes to the mix when it seems right.

I am happiest when I am stitching random strips of brightly colored fabrics together, making a new "something" from scraps, watching to see how it evolves.

I am attracted to multiples of shapes.

It makes me happy when I find a way to add hand-stitching to my work.

So although the subject matter may be different in each of these pieces, there is a common thread running through them all. Both the story behind the pieces, and the process by which I made my story known, are the same in each piece. Now I feel I'm really getting somewhere, in deciding on the direction for my work. Each time I contemplate embarking on a new project, I might ask myself these three questions:

1. Is this piece telling the story I have in me?

2. Am I going to be able to use the fabrics and the techniques that I most love to work with in making it?

3. Does it make me happy to think about making this?

If I can answer "yes" to all three questions, then I will carry on with the work at hand. If, on the other hand, I'm making it because it's something I "should do", or something that I'm only undertaking because I've signed up to be part of a challenge/ an exhibit/ a group show that is planned by one of the organizations I belong to - well that simply isn't going to cut it. I want to be a little bit more discerning in what I spend my life working on. And at this point in my life, I want to to make what makes me happy by intention, and not just by happy accident (or not). There's no time to lose!

The Value of Review

Sometimes those of us who are creative types are so busy following up on new and exciting ideas we have, that we forget to take the time to review what we've already made. OK, I confess - I fall into this category. This has come to my attention again this week. Before I know the way forward, I want to spend a little time reviewing what has gone before. Specifically I am asking myself - "Which of the quilts you've already made resonates with you as being most true, most pleasing, most heart-felt, most 'I don't care what the rest of the world thinks of this, I am happy with it'?" These are some of the ones I chose that fit this description:

"A New Beginning"

 "Conversations with Kente"

 "In the Presence of the Elders"

Detail (sideways) of "The Night Garden"

"Rosetta's Hope"

"Windows on my World"

 "There's an Elephant in My Garden"

"Abundant Life"

In reviewing these, the overwhelming thing they have in common is their use of colour. But after that it's less clear. One has to do with trees, two are inspired by Africa, two are Art Deco inspired, and one is abstract. Clearly I've got several subject areas that I'm interested in. Are any of them worth re-visiting? Well, the one that shouts out loudest to me is Art Deco. I felt I was only just beginning to touch the surface of this, before I veered off mid-stream to do something totally different. But trees and leaves (this would include my traveller's blanket) have sustained my interest for a very long time. And African experiences continue to provide me with untold material. Wisdom from experienced artists is that one has to choose one focus, and then stick with it. Does anyone else out there find this very, very hard to do? Perhaps I need to pose another question - "If I only have time to make one or two more quilts, what would they say?" Ah, this cuts to the meat of things. It helps me narrow my options. And it might be something that I haven't explored yet, that I have only touched on here or there, and which would be a culmination of all the attributes of favourite quilts from the past. Time to do a little more journalling and see where it takes me . . .