Sometimes I pray... (Subtitled: My love letter about Faith Ringgold)

Sometimes I pray, and the answer comes flying at me as sure as a lightning bolt. I have friends of other faiths, and friends of no and little faith, but it seems we all feel this common vibration. We all feel inexplicably "guided", it seems. For most people, I understand (and the Bible clearly supports this) that they are relying on faith in a being they cannot see, but, my truth be told, I see God in everything. I don't think I'm alone when I say this. Sometimes I pray, and I can feel the answer(s) as strong a a tap on the shoulder. Not in words, mind you, but just in the form of instructions my heart understands. Not a "yes" or a "no", per se, but more of a "Be patient, you'll see", or an "I've got it under control... lemme work on that. Lay it down and go about your business". And there is a definite feeling of peace that goes along with that. Today's instruction was very clear. WRITE THIS POST. So, I hope it is helpful/ meaningful/inspiring, or at least interesting to those who read it.

Dear Readers,

I am an avid fan-letter writer. Not the kind of fan letters you write to pop icons, but letters of appreciation to artists and authors , mainly. It is something I have always done, and I will NEVER EVER forget how I felt when a fan letter I wrote to a Broadway costume designer when I was 16 was answered in a 4 page HANDWRITTEN letter from the designer herself, full of sage advice and appreciation of MY WORDS to her! Imagine that! (I still have and cherish that letter.)

Oddly enought, it seems that it all comes full circle. By "it", I mean everything that means something to me. To illustrate that point, I want you to notice the references I make to the many "theories" that I've named over the years, and will mention in the paragraphs to follow. One of them is my double-helix theory. I feel that everything in my life keeps circling back on itself, wrapping tighter and tighter as the years progress.

When I think of a double helix shape, I think of DNA. No coincidence that this is the shape that defines our physical makeup, our families, or unbreakable connections... I have always felt, in the very seat of my soul, that we are all leading a shared life. Not individual ones. No, not separately, but a big shared existence. I know I once heard a "Sequoia theory", of which I can now find no evidence on the web or anywhere else, but I do know that it was about these enormous, impressive trees that seemed to stand individually, but when examining the roots of these trees, it was impossible to tell where or, in fact, IF, any of them ended. It was theorized that these trees shared a common root system, with no beginning and no end. This magical idea supports what I have always felt. That this is a shared life.

In the late 1980's, I was a high school student, travelling far (both in my 1.5 hr commuting time and culturally) from my Queens home to the Upper East Side of Manhattan every day. Around 11th grade or so, I started to get really bored in school. Not an ordinary level of boredom. A fierce restlessness tormented me. I was anxious to learn and explore - just not in those particular classes, with those particular teachers. My vocabulary was different, as were my thoughts and ideas. This is not meant as conceit in any way, since I didn't feel in any way "above it all", or "too cool for school", but I was very anxious to get on with the college experience. I was a quick study for most of the standard high school stuff at that point, and truly applied VERY little effort to earn great grades. Both a gift, and a curse. So I would cut classes every now and then. There was no rebellion in it. I also didn't sneak out. In those days, we could walk out the school doors for lunch, or during free periods, no questions asked. Cutting class was easily done by simply not returning after your lunch or free period, and for me, meant time spent in libraries and museums. It included no smoking or secret behavior - just a different (self-guided) educational experience. I really loved the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which was within close walking distance of my school, and the most blissfully quiet place on weekdays you could ever imagine. I could spend AMAZING amounts of time staring at the work of Faith Ringgold, among others.

Why did I spend so much time with her work? I was just FLOORED, amazed, and truly excited to think that there was room for this type of work in THAT place. Room for her type of stories... Room for her! And to experience her work was just magical. I know I sought to see her work everywhere it hung. Her artwork really resonated with me, and I felt a vicarious pride at seeing it grace the walls of an institution that took art so seriously. As an African-American girl, who hadn't really led a particularly African-American life, I was intrigued by how INCLUDED her work made me feel.

Pause...

Stopping here for a moment to mention that today, I visited her Facebook fan page. After all, I am a bit of a groupie, and I do keep up with any exhibits or events with which she might be associated, that I might be available to attend. Well, on her Faceboook fan page, there's a link to a recent talk she gave at Lesley University, which was over an hour long, just waiting there for me to watch it. So I dropped everything, and watched it.

Today I learned that while I was staring at her work as it hung at the Met, she was staring at Picasso's work at MOMA. Apparently, we are cut from the same cloth (insert rimshot here) so to speak.

I am not an artist.

I used to keep an idea journal with me at all times, jotting down thoughts and ideas as I prepared for... who knows what? They were always pretty light, quick notes surrounded by white space... but the bits of info represented my BIG IDEA moments, when thoughts would strike me with force, compelling me to write them down. I stated very specifically that I am not an artist many times. Why was it so important to say that? Who was I talking to? In college, I wrote a paper for an African-American studies class, focusing on AfroAm women artists and their reluctance to call themselves artists. I was blown away by the quality of these work of the women I interviewed, and almost without fail, when asked to describe themselves, the answer came back as a professional title. "I'm a nurse", "I'm an elementary school teacher". Somehow they learned that the answer is whatever results in a paycheck. For me, I had to keep reminding myself that I was not an artist, because, in fact,

I AM an artist.

But here's the point of all of this rambling... Why did I choose that subject to write a college paper about Black women? Was I really questioning why these "other" talented people were reluctant to define themselves as artists? No. Looking back, I now see that I was looking for permission to call MYSELF an artist. My feelings about it at the time likely reflect my own attitudes. Attending a quality school, pursuing a career in business, I was going to make money for a living, not ART. Right?

Just this week, I finished a project for a regular corporate client of mine, and I realized that I should now be paid as a vendor, and not an individual, since I have been doing more work for them, and they are now becoming my single biggest client. I decided to bite the bullet, get into their system as a vendor, wait the standard 60 days to be paid, so that everything would be as it should when tax time comes. As I completed the vendor form, I found myself answering the questions, "Are you a minority?/Are you a woman?/Are you a small business?" and in just that quick flash, it occurred to me that these seemingly incidental facts are extremely important. I should be claiming and "proclaiming" them, actually. This is no easy feat, after all.

Art was something to do - not to be.

Early in Faith Ringgold's talk I watched today, she makes this point. Women were housewives when she was young. Her mother was a fashion designer who "kept that (talent) to herself". Inspired by Faith Ringgold, and others like her, when my daughter used to tell me she wanted to be an artist (now, age 10), I always replied "You are already an artist. You don't have to earn the right to call yourself an artist." Not monetarily, not in approval.

My daughter's self portrait (age 9). I like the way she sees herself.

Last year, my aunt gave my daughter some books she thought she would like. Among them was Tar Beach, which we have loved and read... but this copy was different. I opened the front cover, and discovered that it was signed! Not just her name, but a note... "All the best", which I took as a little cosmic wink to us. Out of guilt, I had to call my aunt to tell her that she may have accidentally given us something precious, but she knew how happy I was to have it, and considered our promise to take care of it enough. As I write this, my son is looking dreamily at the pictures inside. Me: "Do you want me to read it to you?" Him: "No, I just love the pictures". Next, he'll wanna know why it is on my bookshelf, not his...

There are no coincidences.

Some years ago, 8, in fact, a cousin of mine told me that a friend of hers was curating an exhibit in New York City. Because she knew how much i loved fiber arts and quilts, she thought I would be interested. Well, this friend, also a well-known and amazingly talented quilt artist, with whom I made a very special real-life connection, displayed the work of many other talented artists, one of whom was... you guessed it... Faith Ringgold. And she came to the show! When I was introduced to Ms. Ringgold, it was like meeting a rock star! I was amazed that she was human! After all, she was/is magical to me!

In the talk I watched today, she talks a bit about bridges. I could go on and on about bridges, but take a look at this recent post, and know that recently bridges have been a huge inspiration for my own work. Also, my 8 Year Quilt is nearly done, (wow, has it come to life since then!) and will now have a life beyond the pages of this blog. This is a quilted reinterpretation of a painting my sister created in 1976. Eight years, mostly following an unintentional Kaizen-like philosophy, but it has actually taken my whole life to create.


So, how do I continue on my path? Faith Ringgold breaks down what any artist needs to know, and I'm very happy to know that there are some strong business reasons at work here. Now, I can relate, knowing that it isn't just about making pretty things, hoping someone will notice... and waiting. If you haven't watched the talk, just know this:

- Create a BODY of work. Do lots of work. I totally get that.

- Create an audience. Okay, I get that, too.

- Develop a market. Wow, the hard stuff. A good reason to have a dealer/agent/representative who can remove themselves a bit from the work.

- The work never dies. That's why you make it.

My daughter, at the opening of the Uris center at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Yes, I brought my daughter. And yes, I asked for a picture.


This post is the truest, from the heart of all the true things I've ever written. It all folds back on itself in an origamic tribute to all the posts that preceded it. Let's see where we go from here...

The 4AM cry...

Whenever I get into conversations with other self-employed artist types, we discusss agonizing over projects, working so hard to force materials to conform to our vision, thinking and working so hard we can barely see or stand, and pulling all-nighters just to allow our minds and bodies to rest. That often brings up the subject of the the universal 4AM "cry".

And, without fail, I get a wide-eyed response of "You too???" This seems to be something almost all of us have in common. That soul-wrenching, supposedly private cry you have when you decide that you are a hack, a failure, talentless... untill you breathe life into the project, and, for better or worse, it starts to "become".

I think the creative process is very much like giving birth, and when it works, the glorious, euphoric high it produces is better than almost any feeling you could ever have. But the road is painful, sometimes long, and extremely emotional.

So, if you know this experience, at your next 4AM cry, know that you are not alone. If you are stuck, you can get "unstuck", if you are blocked, you can clear it, and you can (you will, and you must) overcome it. This is part of the process. If it is 4AM for you right now, I won't tell you to go to bed, because I know even I wouldn't take my own advice on that one!




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If you held the microphone...

I have this thing about T-shirts...

I often see T-shirts with funny sayings, snarky comments, sometimes offensive, yet hilarious statements... and I think to myself "Would I want that to be my message of the day?" The answer is usually "No", unless I would be willing to let a stranger make a snap judgement about me based on that T-shirt.

So, sometimes, when I sit down to write a blog entry, I imagine that the whole world is silent, and that there is one universally understood language. I step up to the podium, and take the microphone... I have just a few minutes to make an impact.

What do I say?

If I say it, what is my goal, my pupose, my wish for everyone within earshot?

Well, I probably already said some version of it in my post on Lacemaking and What We Can Learn from Spiders. There is something so unique and special about a spider's own ergonomic study that leads him/her to design and create their own custom web; it speaks so beautifully to our unique desire to create beautifully customized garments and furnishings for ourselves. It explodes from our souls in even the most dismal of environments and circumstances. It is a necessary communication, and, as much as we need to create, the things we create NEED to be created.



If the world handed you a microphone, what would you say?

Fake-a-quilt

Sun...sleeps on my cat
like Cezannne
3:2:3

-High School classmate (from memory)

I may have the words wrong, but I will always remember the gist of this Haiku-inspired poem, (although it didn't fit the classic structure) written by a fellow classmate in High School in Mr. Rous' Creative Writing class. The beauty of this class, is that my friend and I were both bored, and he was incredibly talented. I omit his name now, since he has probably gone on to much bigger and better things, and I haven't seen him in a million years...and his name isn't the point, anyway...

Anyway, we used to have assignments, forget(?) or neglect to do them, and make things up on the spot. He and I turned the class into an improv. class, and snickered about it constantly. And... we both got A+ in that class.

Here's my point. I loved that he was linking our study of Cezanne in Art History class, and the way he divides a canvas (3:2:3) to the way the light shone on his cat. Beautiful observation for a 15 year-old-boy, dontcha think?

So this ratio I touched on briefly in a previous post, will be applied to my current project.

Sick of looking at this very colorful but truly annoying comforter on my daughter's bed,
I decided to make a new "face" for it. I was planning to put a poll on this post to ask which combo would look best, but as soon as I laid out the fabric for comparison, the choice was obvious.



I have assembled both sides, and now need to pin, machine quilt and bind, sandwiching the old quilt in between.

On Supporting Artists...

My inspiration comes from a blog post by Lisa Call that I just read today, although it is a few days old. I have been longing for the only T-shirt she featured in her Etsy shop, but I kept hesitating to buy it, since I have been doing so much, and shopping just hasn't been on my priority list.

Selfishly, I made sure to buy the T-shirt in question before posting today. I just love the colors so much.

Anyway, I felt the need to post about this, since it is part of my ongoing commitment to supporting the people whose artwork speaks to me.

Color and Context

"She is not afraid of the snow for her household; for all her household are clothed in scarlet."

Proverbs 31:21

I do love the fact, that due to my new color scheme, I can take this verse literally!

I don't think any explanation is needed for why I love the above photo. If it makes you feel like I feel when looking at it, 'nuff said!


I love color. Lately, I have been noticing the glorious colors the Indian women in our neighborhood have been wearing. Against their dark skin, it is just magnificent. I look forward to finding a spot in our new place for my favorite painting...



My sister painted this when I was about six years old (she was 22), and I asked her if I could have it. She told me she would give it to me when I moved into my first apartment, and when I was 22 years old, she kept that promise. I adore it. The name of this painting is "Once in a Blue Moon", but I call it "I'm Every Woman", after the Chaka Khan song. It is mixed-media - tissue paper and fabric give it its unusual texture.

*Note: the face is her own self-portrait. Can you believe how beautiful she is? Even better, how wonderful to feel the way you must feel about yourself to create such a beautiful likeness...



On that note, the color scheme for our new place is coming together... I have picked out the accent colors (like spices, for my stew) and my anchor color is pomegranite red. I have a tendency to overthink things... but I love how it is all shaping up. More pix to come!

Crazy-expensive stuff... and a resolution

I attended a networking group panel discussion a few months ago, where I asked a high-end muckety-muck why these uber-luxury brands make keychains. His response, in a nutshell, was that you can tell how many keychains are being sold relative to the core product of the company by how much floor space is dedicated to it, and its position in the store. Some people just want "a piece" of luxury, even if they can't afford it, so they buy the keychain, sold right next to the entrance/exit.

The article which inspired today's post, entitled The Psychology of the $14,000 Handbag, is full of bits of business wisdom. It opened my eyes to a market I had really been having a hard time understanding. I do understand how a $3500 jacket makes the $800 jacket hanging near it seem less expensive, and therefore, desireable.

I know everyone has their top price for everything, and for some, money is no object. This must be true, since, a $1500 coffee-table book (no, that's not a typo) featuring Christian Dior's work will be available for purchase next month. Hope you don't spill your coffee! (Apparently, you get a steep discount if you preorder it at Barnes and Noble for $1200.)

It is a truly special edition. 500 of these first edition copes wil be wrapped in linen hand-embroidered by Lesage, so that's a boost in value right there... 400 pages with beautiful and rare photographs... $1500?

Really?

Seriously?

Whatever...

So, I just had an epiphany.

Work with me here... If you are reading this as a creative person who designs, paints, writes, anything... I assume you hope that the reward for the hard but pleasureable work you do, will be people appreciating and/or buying your creations and expertise. Having just read a great post by Lisa Call (quilt artist) on sacrificing for your art, stimulated a thought process that brings me to this idea... If you TRULY believe that art is meant to be appreciated and shared, isn't it important that we, of all people, should support one another in the quest to do this?

I never think to BUY the things so many of these artists who blog are selling... why did that only occur to me today? Perhaps you already do this, but I never thought much about it.

Resolution:

When I am really moved and feel a connection to something created by human hands that is of use to me, and priced appropriately for my willingness/ability to pay, I am going to buy it, compliment the creator, or express gratitude for their creation in some way.

Wouldn't it be Glover-ly????

"When in doubt as to local customs, put a pair of gloves in your pocket, and if you cannot judge with certainty whether others will wear them, be on the safe side by putting them on before you enter the drawing room."

-Good Manners (Butterick Publishing Company, 1888)

I have an obsession with gloves, although I almost never wear them. I am fascinated by the making of gloves and the completely foreign shape of the pattern pieces! My beloved glove pattern from 1943, which I am absolutely baffled by, but hope to figure out someday, calls me to create something as lovely as the illustrations on the pattern envelope. The instructions are so spare, I wonder if they are joking.




After reading the "instructions" again a few more times, I have determined that the pattern company makes the following assumptions; that the gloves will be sewn by hand (which appears to be necessary, due to the shape of the pieces), that you know what type of fabric to purchase (there is no guidance for fabric at all - but it certainly shouldn't fray), that you know what it means to "glove stitch", and that you know how to determine your glove size. Okay, so I'll have to do a bit of research and make a muslin before I can tackle this one. My goal is to make gloves with embroidery travelling up the fingers. This will take time. Maybe my pattern doesn't need to be from 1943, huh?

For online eye-candy, the Martin Margiela artisinal clothing featured on Inhabitat.com is so inspiring and beautifully weird, that I felt I needed to share... Check out the top made of overlapping gloves!

Creative artists

"The charm of a golden sunset, to a real admirer, is not complete without silence. A voice dispels it, even though that voice be as sweet as the silvery nest of a forest-bird - a charm in itself, but inharmonious with that entrancing the vision.

So in Art. Although we are obliged to dally with the practical to reach the ideal, no words can add to the enchantments of artistic productions. They surround the worker with an influence that is like a dream, and in it he lives, with Genius for his master and Silence for his companion."

- Needle-Craft: Artistic and Practical (Butterick Publishing Company, 1889)


In New York City, we live with so much noise. Constant noise. To make it worse, it seems every artist within spitting distance of a microphone must over-explain his art. This is why I love to go to the beautifully quiet exhibits tucked away in our city's fabulous museums and galleries. No words, unless you seek them out.

One example of a visual feast, perfectly presented, is the Luxury exhibit at FIT. This display of gorgeous garments in the gentle light and silence of the gallery is a fabulous place to stop, examine, and truly appreciate the art of beautiful craftsmanship.

Have a wonderful weekend!