The idea was there 20 years ago....

I emptied a closet last week and found this painting I made in grad school (SVA) 20 years ago.

I remember making it. It was like nothing else I was working on. It was a piece I worked on kind of in secret. And when it was done, I cried. It was all there. And it made no sense.

I was working on different issues at the time, which are still in my work: transparency, layers, color as physical object, pop culture. I did a series of Wonder Woman in several layers of plexiglass so that when 4 sheets of plexi hung from the ceiling, the image became 3 dimensional and the colors related to each other differently as the viewer moved.

In this piece… the blue grid creates a ground, a barrier for things to exist in front of or behind. The viewer is on one side, and the painting exists on the other. The paint drips, but not according to gravity. The paint exists more like a physical object in space. And the colors zing. They have energy because of their relationship with each other. The orange is so powerful it refuses to stay in the background. The red feels like it exists behind the orange, but it is on top, yet smushed by the blue grid. As much as the drops are organic, there is a logic to them - three bands are horizonal. And the blue or the grid intrigues me. It was clearly on top, and structured the painting, yet visually, it falls behind the orange. There is organic drips and the grid that contains them. Each grid creates a square which is a unit of the larger piece, and can be contemplated as a unit.

The work reminds me of how I loved to look at slides as a biology major. When looking through a microscope, there is the light coming right at you, there is no top or bottom, but there is a logic to what is seen. Once a piece is labeled, it can be seen as separate, studied on its own in relation to other slides. And the grid is how we divide up the natural world to organize it, control it, study it.

What excited me about finding this piece again was how all the ideas were there. I am always working on the same ideas. Sometimes they make sense, sometimes they don’t.

Now I do work on blue construction netting. The netting is a powerful part of the final piece: it creates the boundary of where the art exists, yet it disappears. Currently, the image is woven onto the netting and exisits on the same plane. I think of each of the stitches much like each block in the painting. Each stitch has meaning only in relation to the other stitches around it. The meaning is created by the entirety of all the stitches, yet each stitch is integral to the whole.

And now I am exploring color in a more intentional way. Each piece is an exploration of a named color. In the painting, the colors have tension and energy. The idea of organic and inorganic.

I did not go any further in making anything like this. I did not explore any more. Yet I knew it was all in this piece - and I kept it to be uncovered 20 years later.

grid2020, 48 x 36”, oil on linen. IT WAS ALL THERE.

grid2020, 48 x 36”, oil on linen. IT WAS ALL THERE.

Knot, Knot

Recently, I went outside. I got vaccinated. A lot of us did. It was safe to go outside.

We hibernated for over a year. And we had faith that Spring would come and we could come out and be with each other.

I got to do it as an artist at a plein air event where I got to experiment with nature as my collaborator.

One of the things that came out in my art, that I am thinking about is how we connect.

Below is a photo from the event that reflects how I feel right now.

Yellow strings, parallel, tension loaded from the right. Orange strings, straight, pulling from from the left. The tree, upright, strong holding it all together. The string records the hands that wrapped around the tree. Each string connects back to itself in a knot. The tails of each knot hang and intertwine. A red string falls from above. Seeds from the tree fall on the tightened strings, creating a softness to the tension.

I was only touched by 3 people for a year. My presence and role in their lives was made very clear. I am mother and wife. II connected to others through screens - color and light from my computer screen.

There was a strength I connected with this past year - a strength from the earth. I felt like a tree - aware of others, but able to only touch those closest to me. My strength came from my presence.

The strings feel like my love for my other humans going through this. We were tied to each other, just in a new way.

The knots: there are parts of me I would like to smooth out, but they show up as knots in my relationships. ever present bumps that hold us together. There are knots I want to straighten out in others to make life easier for me. It is those knots that hold us togehter somehow.

There is a string on the left, its tail was never pulled out. there is a softness in that knot. It can be undone with some ease. There is a tenderness in that string. It has a softening, It is a place to start.

The colors are soft yet saturated. They are present, garish, yet there is a softness when really looked at. A lot like my inner voices. A lot like my voice with those I love.

The seed strings, nature’s collaboration and finishing touch. Gentle, present reminding me that I made this all up. It’s all a perception of permanence.

I am not just me, I am something to other people too. And I am an artist. I make visual what is knot.

Web & Walls

The X is a symbol of barrier. It is a symbol for skin. Skin is a barrier that defines our expierence. Skin contains our pains. It is what separates us from others. It contains our history. It defines our inner experience, our identity, and how we exist in the world. It is how we are labeled and defined.

Recently, I did the Plein Air Show in Sloatsburg. I had proposed creating an installation using string to create walls of color between trees. The three elements of my work would be addressed in a different way than I the work I do in the studio. Each wall was a color, the walls would create a surface, and allow for the soul to exist and be present.

Colored walls of string parallel between trees. Each wall a different color. I wanted to see how the walls would interact. I wanted to see what happened when I got rid of the X. Here are some photos of what was made:

Spider webs are barriers. We are lucky enough to walk through them, but other beings are trapped. Precious, fragile as they are, they are barriers. They define space. The viewer is on one side or the other. The body is defined by an element outside of itself.

The walls of color were fragile, and as much as I wanted to make a barrier, a Serra like presence of color, I would need a lot more yarn. Something else happened. The color felt like a spider web. Easily lost.

Our skin feels so permanent. My skin has been my container my whole life. It marks me as white, woman, middle aged, soft. But it leaves us at some point. It will no longer contain me at some point. There is a somewhere inside of me that can’t imagine that, but a deeper knowing that it must happen. It is inevitable. My skin will be consumed. Much like the insect in the web.

In the future, I want to see what happened when I create this piece along a 10 minute walk along a natural barrier - like where water meets land. or along a path that would intersect with the natural flow, forcing viewers to change their path. Will you, will I feel my skin even more?

ART vs CRAFT

Working in textiles, the designation of craft vs. art has meaning in my work: to take a delicate hand craft and go BIG. Up until now, I believed that the difference between art and craft was the handling of mistakes. In art, a mistake is an invitation to an adventure - to the object being created taking its own life. I believed that in craft, perfection was the goal. In art, mistakes are seen as opportunities for the creator to force the piece into what was intended.

Then I thought the dynamic of art and craft was like feelings and emotions. In an article in the Epoch Times, feelings are described as being in the body, while emotions are what happens when the brain processes those feelings. Maybe art was something felt in the body, and craft was what happens when the brain processes it.

Serra described art as objects that have no purpose - thus assigning architecture out of the realm of art. Does this put craft in the realm of architecture?

I believe that art is an expression of the soul. When art is experienced, the soul engages. But where does this leave craft? In the realm of our physical world? never able to touch our soul?

One of the special things about the Covid era is ZOOM studio visits.

Yesterday, I watched a studio visit with Kimberly Camp. Ms. Camp creates paintings and dolls. This studio visit focused on her doll practice. She uses her intuition and desire for fun to guide her in making one of a kind dolls that reference individuality, culture, myth, identity.

At the end of her lecture (hosted by Peter’s Valley School of Craft), Ms. Camp was asked what she thought was the difference between Art and Craft. Her answer was one I haven’t heard before.

Ms. Camps response was the best I have heard to date.

“The separation between art and craft is a relic of white supremacy”

Damn. She’s right.

It is the need to make one higher, better, more valuable over the other that drives the question.

When you look at my work. Do you see the Craft? Do you see the Art? Is it important to make the distinction?

It’s time to take a hard look at why we believe we need a division of these two.

love letter to GRAVITY

My dearest Gravity,

Gravity, I love you. I always knew you were there. You have been patiently present my whole life. I see you now. You make everything possible. You are the spirit of Divine Mother’s Love. You are the sign that I am loved in every breath I take while I walk on this Earth.

Gravity, thank you. I started a new mediation a few months ago, and I understood something this week.

Every morning I have been getting up and connecting with light above - the source of divine Father’s Love. Then I connect with my body. Next I connect to the energy down below - the source of divine Mother’s Love.

Connecting with divine Father’s Love comes easy for me. The energy above is where i was taught God lives. Heaven is above. The sun - the source of energy for all living things is above.

I have been struggling to connect with the energy beneath me. This week I remembered that I was taught that Hell is below. I don’t want to go to Hell. Hell is all fire and brimstones and souls flowing in a river of molten lava. I know my soul doesn’t want to go there for eternity.

This mediation opened something up in me. If divine Mother’s Love is at the center of our planet, maybe what I was taught is wrong. Maybe by fearing the Hell below I was cutting myself off from a powerful energy. Maybe the source of greatest love is actually what I have been taught to fear.

Gravity, thank you. I know from the depth of my being that you are proof of the powerful energy of divine Mother Love. It is with you that trees grow, they reach from the Earth to the sky. It is with you that even as water transforms to a vapor, it will hang in the sky as a cloud. It is with you that the earth is below my feet. It is with you that every step I take, I come back. I always come back.

Gravity, thank you. You are the newest element to my art. Having left the confines of a room, the art hangs outside, with trees as walls, clouds as ceiling, and earth as the floor. I see it. But now I really see. I see that my work HANGS. It hangs from above and caresses the Earth because of you. It will always come back to you. You are the love that makes the magic of my art. You are the proof of divine Mother’s love.

Gravity, I love you. May I continue to make in your awareness.

From the depth of my soul, I love you, Kris

SCREENS

It came to me as a question at night. It might have been very early. I was a mother of young children, so I was up at night mothering. I had started cross stitching six months earlier as a way to do art. I was using my recently passed grandmother’s supply of needlework floss and fabric. I could work out some ideas that i had, some visions. i was getting back in the flow of art and connecting with my artist self.

It started as a musing. Zoning out on a window screen. If I died, my soul would go through the screen and my body would stay on this side. One side of the screen was containing my physical self, while my soul, my energy could flow to the other side.

The question stuck with me. Enough that I wanted to see it. So I bought a roll of window screen and mapped out an image of my child. I caught him on that screen.

I continue to work with the idea of a screen as a divider, as a metaphor for skin.. We are part of a universe, divided by our skin. What does that feel like? How does this skin divide us? We label it, sort it into races, try to classify better and not worthy like grain. But we are not grain. We are people and we are also souls, energy that can connect beyond our skin.

Philosophers and theologians can put this idea in to clear words much better than I can. I can put the idea into physical form. The idea of oneness, of separation, and connection.

My work connects to the soul. My work connects souls. The screen is the place it happens.

I AM...

As the new year starts, I am looking back at all I’ve done and also looking forward to what the year brings.

I have been thinking a lot about Self Concept beliefs. Self Concepts beliefs are beliefs about the self that were made many times preverbal or at very young ages about who we are.

What do I believe about myself? I am a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter, I am comfortable with my gender, I am comfortable with my sexuality, I am a wife, a mother, a friend, and aunt, I am disorganized, I thrive on chaos and love order. I am scared to talk to people but love meeting interesting people. I am a colorist, I am artistic. I am goofy. I am introverted. One I have a tough time confronting: I believe that I make good art, but not good enough to be seen by others. Others are better than me.

What new thing can I believe about myself? What new belief do I want to add? Can I have control over those thoughts?

Last year, I claimed the I AM AN ARTIST belief. I really took it on. I said a statement every morning: I AM A SUCCESSFUL ARTIST . AM INSPIRED AND INSPIRNG. I had to believe it before others could.

To make the #iamCOLOR series, I had to commit. Commit time, money and my self to being an artist. When quarantine started, my husband was put on furlough. We made a shift in my responsibilities so that I could spend more time as an artist. I looked at my studio space and recreated it into a space that invited me to work. I invested in a program with Public Image Works and developed my idea of a series as the first piece was being created. The program had me work from a vantage of the series being complete, and engaging people with the ideas. This was a huge leap of faith, not just in myself but also in valuing my ideas.

The neat thing about challenges is that as I take on each one, beliefs about myself or my beliefs about the world are confronted.

I had to take on the idea that I don’t fit in. That there are already so many artists in the world… and my ideas are valuable. I had to take on organizing my website so that people could see my art and how it relates to my ideas - which meant I had to be clear about my ideas. I had to claim my space in my house, my community and the world. I had to confront the idea of money and that it is not a motivator with my work. It helps others value my work, but it is not how I value my own work. As an Artist (with a captiol A), I value intuition. I value time. I value following the muse. I value ideas and people. I value the exchange of ideas.

This year, I want to claim I AM A TEACHER. Its scary as all heck to write. I have been very critical of teachers in the past. I am wary of many people that claim they are teachers. To be a teacher is to say I know something and I can teach YOU. That’s great for a basic class. The really good teachers I have had asked questions. And those teachers created a space to explore the answers for myself. That is the teacher I want to be.

So… going forward: Do you have a belief about yourself you want to explore? Either to build up or tear away? It is worth finding the courage to claim it, I promise.

RESISTANCE...


In thinking about this year, one thing I am most proud of is that I stitch for at least 1 hour every day.

Gaining this discipline came from a totally non art related experience.

At the start of pandemic, I allowed myself to join an online exercise program.

To be honest, I didn't care much about the exercise bit. What I wanted is to get closer to the founder of the program. She was at a retreat I had gone to years ago. I had quietly stalked her since then. Her life was the opposite of mine. Now she had an online exercise program. My gut said try it and my gut needed some trimming. It was a risk because my partner had lost his job and we were on a tight budget. The risk was investing in myself and to be willing to sacrifice for that when there might not be enough at the end of the month. The risk was worth it.

One element of the program is habits. Each month we get to pick one habit ourselves and each month the leader picks one for the community.

My own habits had to do with stitching - developing my studio practice and business practices. I was't the best at doing it every day, but I kept trying.

The leader's habits were different. We drank lemon water, ate a vegan meal once a day, danced for 10 minutes a day. I also wasn't consistent with these, but they were fun and I tried.

The one that broke something inside me was a cold shower every day. That one was tough. And I did it every day.

After that month, I was able to stitch every day for one hour. Most days I do more, but the minimum is one hour.

I think those cold showers changed how I deal with resistance. I find it challenging to stop my life - being a mom, a pet owner, a wife, and an employee for my dad. Those are things where other people see my value.

Working on my own work - my own ideas - is how I value myself. It is really scary to claim the time, space and money for a vision only I have. It is scary to acknowledge that the vision I have is worth investing in.

It takes faith to work on a big goal a little bit every day. That is a lot of days of trusting in the process. Of sitting down with a needle, yard and scissors and committing to the project, committing to the vision, and knowing that the process is bigger than myself.

I can see how I avoid - for me its lists. I make a grand list, and work on checking it off. At the end of the day, there may be a lot of crossed off items, but I have not done what I needed for me. I know I need to time and a place where i don't know what I will do, how I'll do it, and be okay with the real possibility it may have to be cut out tomorrow.

Creating through stitching is meaningful work for me. It is sitting down like my grandmother, and women before me. It is sitting with Arachne, the mythical weaver and honoring her. It is sitting and opening up to the universe.

And it is the hardest to show up to because I have the most to lose.

And now, each day I do that. I try to do it before noon. Sometimes, I don't get to it until after dinner. But I do it.

How does your resistance show up? What is the resistance protecting?

note: the exercise program is called INTESATI by Patricia Moreno



OUTSIDE

What a year! One of the things I realize I have not taken the time to process this year is the shift to doing work for outdoors.

It wasn’t until I decided to take on the challenge of doing work that is intended for outside that I felt the safety and security of doing work for indoors.

First, indoors is controlled. The temperature, the lighting, how close viewers can get to the work, and even who is permitted to see the work is decided by someone and honored.

Second, indoor spaces have context, they are created by people with an intention on how the space is used. Making art, and showing art is vulnerable. Creating the work is an opening into my soul, and to showing it is an act of service of that experience. Indoors, the work feels safe to share.

Third, when indoors art can be labeled ART with capital letters, and be treated that way.

Going outdoors - the work needs to stand on its own. No walls to support me or the work.

The work needs to be strong. The piece in Brewster was put up on a 105 degree August day at noon, and taken down in November during a snow squall. It survived hurricane like winds and groundhogs. And its got to survive humans and the weird things we do too.

ALL of nature will see it. When art is outside, everything nature has is witnessing it. Eagles, worms, and groundhogs. Everything can poop on it, eat it, and just check it out. Outdoor art is not just for humans.

Nature is BIG. Put something big in your house outside and it looks like a toy. A couch can fill up a room, and outside, its a small piece of the block. 25 feet inside is really big… outiside it is dwarfed by the maginificent OAK.

Nature is beautiful. Anything outside is seen next to the most beautiful of creations - spider webs, trees, dandilions, birds, clouds. Putting art outside is very humbling.

Nature moves. Wind -can’t see it. It can caress your cheek and tear a building down. Outside, there is a lot of it. Outdoor art has to acknowledge wind and its power.

When the pandemic started, we didn’t know how the virus spread. We didn’t know how long it was going to last for. I am an artist. I am a contemporary artist. If I was to own that identity, I was going to shift my art to reflect the contemporary times.

Art was going outside. I was going to make art for outside. The work I created in the past 9 months is a direct experience of the pandemic - our constraints, our desires, and exposure of our weaknesses and our strengths.

STRIKE A POSE

I had one of those moments last week. I saw something that I have been thinking about ALL week.

Is there visual art out there that the viewer reacts to by moving their body in a certain way (besides putting there finger to their temple in puzzlement) ?

I went to see #iamORANGE onsite last week. Is has been up for 5 weeks now and I wanted to see how it was doing. I checked her out and went to look at the other art. I looked back and saw a woman asking her son to take a picture of her in front of the piece. And then she struck a pose and put her arms up - the same way I do when I take my picture in front of the piece.

The size of the work was defined by Instagram: it is a square and the composition is based on the human head being in center approximately. That is why the pieces are 10 feet square. The pieces are meant to be shared on social media and the title is a hint to that.

I am committed to learning about white privledge and how pervasive it is in our culture. This woman was black. And she struck the same pose I did. And it is a pose of gloriousness and pride and beauty. Maybe we aren’t so different. Maybe we all want to be seen in our glory, full of pride and beauty.

Is there other art out there that we move certain ways when we look at it? Was that intended by the artist? Is the idea of an artist being aware of the viewer and their movements a reflection of our relationships? our responsibility to each other?

ABSENCE & PRESENCE

One of the exciting attributes of my work is the absence. Inspired by watercolors where the white of the paper (the ground) is left untouched, I look for the same quality in my work. It is one of the defining factors if a piece can leave the studio.

In watercolor, the paper is left untouched in areas. These areas allow light into the image. By doing this, the art is also unveiling itself. It cannot be mistaken for an actual representation of the object. It will remain an image on paper.

In my work, stitches are left out. It allows for light into the art in the same way watercolor does. The lack of stitches allows the debris netting to be exposed. The material on which the piece is created is as important as what is created on it.

It also allows the viewer to see to the other side of the art. So the viewer can see THROUGH the piece. The stitches block the sightline, define the space of the art (as in the art is here).

By allowing the viewer to see through the work, the metaphor for absence and presence builds. What is left out is as important as what is left in. What can be seen on the other side is as important as the barrier (or art in this case).

May we strive to look at others this way. To recognize their physical attributes, and at the same time witness what is on the inside.

WHAT AM I DOING?

I just finished listening to Jerry Saltz narrate his book “How to be an Artist”. Totally recommend listening to him read the book - its way different than listening to your own voice in your head read the same pages.

One of the chapters is to write about your work. Here I go…

What am I doing?

I love Color Field art. Like as much as I love my kids. Love.

Recently someone I respected said they thought those yellow and red squares were bullshit and were the simplest way to make meaningless art. WOAH. OK. So what is it about Color Field art that makes MY heart zing?

Let’s go back…

My family is from Holland, like off the plane Dutch. My father’s side of the family are all in the flowerbulb business. I grew up in the bulb part of the business here in the states. Bulbs are the brown and gold onion looking things that 6 months later show their color. There were a few times I got to go over in the spring.At that time of year, the bulbs are flowering. Fields that other times of the year are wet sand colored are FILLED with blocks of yellow, red, pink. I would ride in the back of the car through these color fields. Sometimes we would stop, and I could walk up to, then into these fields of a single color.

Something happens when I stand in a field of color bigger than my body. There is a release of a tension in my skin. I can feel something inside fall away, and something that I would describe as my life force expand. It is a crazy feeling. It’s the same as when I stare at Color Field art.

I had issues with Color Field painting too.. Its awfully square. Rigid. Confining in contrast to the field of color within. Dude, way to make an incredible feeling and control it. I resent those perfectly straight controlled perfect lines.

What if I went Oprah on Color Field art?

Oprah is at her most beautiful when she is at her physically biggest. She takes up space. She physically confronts. It is the most magnificent display of feminine beauty.

This is not frail, wispy, pre-pubescent feminine idealized in fashion. Even I could snap their arms. Oprah beauty harnesses the great divine feminine. It reminds me of Michealangelo’s Pieta - her ass is HUGE! The Pieta is a mountain, a force of nature that is as great as the Earth we walk upon.

What if I took what i loved about Color Field art and went Great Divine Feminine on it?

That is what I am doing.

RADIO!!!!

I recently got to be a guest on the radio! It was super exciting and I got to meet Andy Monk who teaches crochet to talk about LGBTQ teens and homelessness.

Andy Monk uses craft to engage pedestrians in learning to crochet. As he is teaching, he engages in a conversation about teens that are homeless, that could use the blanket they are crocheting. A lot of these teens identify as LGBTQ+. It is a brilliant way to engage peoples hearts.

The two of us spoke on the radio, about craft. The AIDS quilt was HUGE (an element of my work) and went straight to the heart of the people whose lives ended because of the disease (Andy’s work). It’s amazing how something that is craft, can be a powerful to connect with the heart directly.

Have a listen! click here!

WOAH. that's big!

The new series are big. These are 10.5 feet square. They are bigger than the body. They are taller than you and wider than you.

When you can see the piece from far away, - which is cool since it is meant to be seen outdoors where there is a lot of space - you see the image. As you get closer, the image falls apart and you can see the stitches. And then the expansiveness of the color, so much color!!!!! Hanging in air.

To me to go big is to claim space. It is a declaration that I intend to be seen, and my what I make is bigger than you. To go big - to claim space like the big guns - Nevelson, Coyne, von Rydingsvard, takes courage. But then all art takes courage. It goes against the values of being a good girl. i am not good and I am not a girl. I am a woman. And I do far more good for the world when I let go of being good.

When you see the work, what do you think of the size? Do you want to step into your bigness?