Lettergirl

Home again, home again.

Most times we go away, I use the break as a sort of touchpoint -- an opportunity to step back and reassess.  This time, not so much.  I barely finished reading one book and I didn't even open my colored pencil tin.  My brain was really on vacation!  (Or maybe just mom-busy.)  And  yet I'm back now and already full of ideas I want to try over the next few months.

 
Our treehouse in southwestern Oregon.  (Well, not our treehouse:  www.treehouses.com)

 
Oregon Caves National Monument (fascinating!)

 
Redwoods in northern California

 
Oregon coast

 
The sand dunes were a welcome escape during a long day in the car.

 
Jellyfish at the Oregon Coast Aquarium

 
We flew out to Portland, but took the train home -- none of the drudgery of air travel (which we definitely had our share of at the beginning of the trip).  Pete & I even went to a wine tasting on the train.  And I loved that our vacation didn't end until we pulled into the train station in St. Paul.

Art? Design? Craft?

As I get further into my textile projects, which I've always been so eager to begin and have poured my heart and skill into right up to the last stitch, I've been feeling a bit frozen.  I like my work to be well-crafted.  I like it to be useful.  I like it to be different than any other.  (And I guess that goes for more than my sewing projects!)  But as I embark on the mentor-protege journey, and there is so much talk of art and design elements and critique, I can't help but wonder:  am I really an artist? a designer? a craftsperson?  Am I trying to "achieve" the status of art?  Is my work skilled enough to be true craft?  Am I simply a designer?

I feel determined to give this process a label.  And let me be clear that I am not hung up on which label I end up with; I don't necessarily see them as a hierarchy with art as the pinnacle.  I may even be an artist who uses design and craft in her process of making art.  And maybe pinning a label on me won't make my work any better, my focus any clearer (though to be honest, focus is what I'm after here).

Here's what quilt artist Angela Moll has to say:

As an artist working in a craft medium I am increasingly skeptical of the value of appropriating modern art properties (such as moving the quilt off the bed and on to the wall) in an attempt to cloak our work with fine art’s legitimacy. 

In an article for Ragged Cloth Cafe, she talks about the role of the art industry excluding craft, supposing it to be inferior, and the subsequent attempt of craftspeople to challenge that.  You can read her full article here (and be sure to click on the art/craft links at the end of the article!).

I also looked up the definitions of art, design and craft, to see if getting down to basics might help:

 
 
 

(I think it's interesting that art is only a noun, while craft and design are both noun & verb -- in this case I used verb for both.)  In the early years of my career, I referred to myself as a "designer" because I spent most of my day designing wedding and personal stationery that happened to be handwritten.  Before long, I changed that title to "artist" -- primarily because that seemed to give me greater permission:  it is okay for an artist to have messy clothes, messy hair, messy studio!  But now I am wondering if what I do is craft instead of art -- does that let me off the hook for the "more than ordinary significance"?  I still consider the principles of design when I'm creating (more as a matter of habit than a conscious choice) and I still have a teeny bit of perfectionism that insists on solid craftsmanship.

As I sit at my desk writing this post, I feel that I've gotten the questions out of my system; I'll hope for a few insights from you, and meanwhile, I'll go enjoy the bright blue sky.  So much snow has melted this week that the snowbanks are no longer taller than my children!

Catch-up.

*cleaned off the table where I meet with customers

*covered a giant old bulletin board with batting to use as a design board

*covered a small ugly bulletin board with linen to hang over my desk

*sorted fabric scraps into the right bins

*checked out some cookbooks from the library

*wrote out about 25 stamps for etsy orders

*visited my skirt at the Textile Center

*started Juliet's scrapbook pages for this year with a peacock feather theme

*finished watching Downton Abbey

*bought some more chocolate brown bamboo jersey to make this:

 
I found the pattern at Your Style Rocks a month ago, via Craft Gossip, and cut out what I thought would be my size, but is more likely to fit my 12-year old.  I happened upon the last scrap of the bolt in the remnant bin, just enough to make a matching (larger!) one for me.  I wanted a little something to wear over this:

 
The front closure on the hoodie is a zipper, and I haven't put a zipper into any of my hand-stitched garments yet.  I'll keep you posted on my progress!

Serendipity.

Truth be told, once I am working on a project, I don't mind a little change to my plan.  Like when I ran out of black thread on the Thurman skirt and stitched part of it in grey.  Or when I decided to add the painting and embroidery to the shirt I posted about last week.  Sometimes necessity is the mother of invention; sometimes I'm just trying to keep an open mind about the process -- and the results.

Last week I met with my textile mentor for a morning of textile play, in which we painted and layered and stitched and glued.  Definitely out of my box.  I left feeling satisfaction that I had tried some new techniques, but also disappointment -- not with the results so much, but with my engagement in the task.  We mostly worked on collages, and though I can appreciate others' efforts, that's a technique I've never aspired to.  (Just to be sure, I looked through my idea folders when I got home, and sure enough, very little collage work in there.)

While we were working together, I kept mentioning my need to plan -- for good or ill.  Then afterwards I began to wonder:  did I not like the project itself (collage) or was I resisting spontaneity (and potential growth)? 

I may be open to serendipity when I'm already at work on a project, but am I so mired in my process (dwell-plan-create) that I'm unwilling to look at another way of doing things?

Or is my process what's best for me?

My husband (aka Sugardog) reassured me by saying that Bruce Springsteen is a craftsman, fine tuning everything before it's released, whereas Neil Young has been known to record songs in one take.  And then I started thinking about all the many forms of artistic expression and the whole spectrum of "planning" art.  More notes for my journal.

I really would love to know what you think.  Yes, you.  Are you comfortable with spontaneity in your creative work?  What role does it play?  I'd love to have even more food for thought.

I've always been just a little intrigued by personality inventories like Myers Briggs and StrengthsFinder (and in fact I was a bit put out when the the newly revised zodiac changed my sign to Leo -- as if!).  And then I stumbled on Style Statement, "an invitation to make more powerful choices, to create your life with intention, to communicate who you are in all you do."  In other words, a label I could live with.

Style Statement is based on determining two words that describe who you are, your foundation and your creative edge.  Your foundation is 80%, the fundamental you.  Your creative edge is the other 20%, representing how you express who you are and "how you do what you do." 

I've been working through the book for over a year and a half now, setting it aside for months at a time, then picking it up to review my old answers and add new ones.  A few months ago I thought I'd settled on a statement, but the words didn't settle themselves in, the flow wasn't there.  For one thing, I resist my 80% word -- not because there's anything wrong with it, but because it is the one adjective that has been used to describe me my whole life.  What kind of discovery is that?  And I've always wanted to add, "but there's more!"  Even if we've never met in person, I'm guessing you know what that word is.

So on to my 20%, my creative edge.  My wings.  My direction.  If my first word was obvious, my second word had to encompass a lot -- history, meaning, function, simplicity, civility, contribution, structure, balance -- all those words that kept turning up in my answers over and over again. Words that at first glance are the opposite of my foundation word.

Sunday morning in bed, alone in the house, picked up my dog-eared Style Statement, wrote a few more notes, pulled out a thesaurus.  And there was my word.  The right fit.  Relief.  Freedom.  I even wrote it in the back of the book in pen:

 

Have you completed a Style Statement?  I'd love to hear what it is and what you're doing with it.

Evolution.

Do you ever get a project idea in your head and then you dwell on it for awhile and then you make it and it's not what you envisioned?  (Or perhaps I should say, "How often...?")

I love using my idea journal to sketch out ideas so they can ferment awhile.  A couple of years ago I sketched a fall coat idea, based on these red jackets, but then when I finally took a weekend to stitch it up, I didn't love it and wondered if that was an idea that should have stayed in the book.  (For the record, I let it sit a couple of months, and I worked on it again this weekend.  A fresh perspective, and the end in sight.)

 
Last week after I played around with fabric dyeing, I was obsessed with an idea in my head of a string quilted skirt using hand-dyed jersey.  (String quilting is a traditional way to use up fabric scraps by stitching strips together to make a larger piece.)  Several sketches in my journal, a night of tossing and turning, a trip to Goodwill for old t-shirts, more dyeing.  And maybe the hope that I could learn something from stitching that fall coat (which I still  might fall in love with eventually).

I have never been very good at reworking ideas.  But as I stepped across a stack of miscellaneous stuff on my floor, I saw a pattern peeking out and I recognized it as the missing piece in my dyeing-string quilting-garment puzzle.  Not a skirt, a shirt. 

 
I'll keep you posted.

 

Thinking back/Thinking ahead.

 
Thinking back:

I sewed a bathmat for my dollhouse when I was five.

I made a stunning (or stunningly awful) green terrycloth shirt in fifth grade.

My sewing teacher in junior high didn't like me (or my sister).

In high school I colored my skin red with a marker after I ripped the knee of my red pants.

I took art class when all my friends were taking pre-calc.

I didn't think art was a viable career, so I studied something practical in college because I didn't know what else to do.

I ended up doing art anyway. 

Thinking ahead:

Creating is my passion.  I love sewing, baking, writing, painting; to read about sewing, baking, writing, painting; to see what others are sewing, baking, writing, and painting.

My natural need for order keeps me grounded (in a good way).  And I do need to make a living.

I still wish I'd gone to art school.

I've joined a mentorship program at the Textile Center.  I'm working with Susan Stein, an experienced textile artist and author, for 18 months...I'm exploring new ideas, new techniques, new media, but also reigning myself in by starting small and working within a series.  It's like art school for grown-ups.

Holiday countdown (4 & 5).

 
 
While I do love a year-end wrap-up, like everyone else I am poised now to move on.  Ready to share more than the endings of projects, excited to share the beginnings & middles. 

Winter break is the perfect time to assess: to lay low and not think, to invite passion but not let it settle in just yet.  A time for deep breaths and brisk air, movies after dinner, long mornings reading in bed.  

For me this is often followed by a maddening rush of ideas, until the structured part of me takes over and I begin to plan.  Stay tuned.

44. And a giveaway.

(The stand in this photo is a vintage silver fork...a lovely birthday gift from my dear friend Chris.)

I'm planning to spend the day crossing things off my to-do list that have been on there far too long (and that may mean actually doing them, or it may mean letting go of them).  Tomorrow I'm hoping to tidy my incredibly messy studio, which could become your gain:  leave a comment today or tomorrow and you'll be entered to win a set of 10 notecards and 10 gift tags:

Cards are printed with raised red ink on white sparkly paper.

In your comment, I would be so grateful if you could share the titles of a few songs on your favorite playlist.  (Can you guess one item on my to-do list?)

Guest posts.

I'm taking a break from my creative manifesto today, to let you know about a couple of blogs where I'm guest posting this week:  today I'll be over at Giver's Log, and on Thursday you can find me at Bloom. I have used tips from both of these blogs in just the past week...and have been wishing for a late night to get caught up on all my blog reading.

I'll wrap up parts 5 & 6 of my manifesto over the next two days, then next week I'll share the guest posting love here with our old friends, Gisele, Melissa, Chel, Amelia, and Rachel.  I'm so excited.

I realized after writing the drafts of both of my guest posts that I had snuck in the words "treasure hunt" without even meaning to.  Part of my summer plans with the kids involve starting the season with a clean slate.  Clean your rooms = treasure hunt.  Put away your school supplies = treasure hunt.  Tidy up the craft shop = treasure hunt.  (The "craft shop" is the art area in our house...it's a long story...but we've been calling it that for so long I don't really think twice about it.)

Today feels a bit like January first; school finished up yesterday and today is the first day of summer vacation:  new schedule, new chores, new goals.  I'm pretty excited about summer too.