“Labor of Love” in Arlington

“Labor of Love” in Arlington

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.

“Playing with Color” October 2022 in Melrose, MA

Fiber Art exhibit - Joined by Stitch | Beebe Estate, Melrose, MA Oct 2022

Come to the Beebe Estate in Melrose to discover “Playing in Color,” a fiber and quilt art exhibit of Joined by Stitch. Meet the artists at the October 7, 2022 reception from 7 to 9 pm.

Joined by Stitch Massachusetts Fiber Art Critique group

Joined by Stitch is the critique group of Betsy Abbott, Agusta Agustsson, Tarja Cockell, Sue Colozzi, Janis Doucette, Anne Kimball, Madalene Axford Murphy and Alanna Nelson. They are all members of Studio Art Quilt Associates (SAQA).  

The eight regional artists came together to form a critique group in the fall of 2016 to support each other in their individual journeys.  Each member uses fiber in creating her work but each has also developed a unique voice ranging from the abstract to the representational.

While all group members use color and fiber in their work, the materials and techniques offer a wide range of opportunities to explore and play. Members dye, print, weave, felt, paint with thread, and stitch, discovering new opportunities for textiles to turn into landscapes, emotions and messages.

Once a month, the artists bring work to a meeting, seeking either feedback from the rest of the group for a finished piece or advice on a particular aspect of a work in progress.  The meetings end with a lively discussion of news from the fiber art world and from individual members.

Group member Alanna Nelson says, “In our first group show since March 2020, we look forward to the exhibit in Melrose. We’ve had a lot of zoom sharing of our work, and it’s great to share these colors and textures in person.”

The Beebe Estate, 245 West Foster Street in Melrose, is open Saturdays from 11 am to 3 pm. “Playing with Color” will be on view from October 7 to 29, 2022.  Visitors are welcome to wear masks and practice social distance protocols.

Building Blocks at Marion Art Center

Building Blocks at Marion Art Center

Plastic bags of ice; autumn olive dyed wool felt; Building Blocks 1.

Time for the summer member’s exhibition at the Marion Art Center. Since moving to the South Coast in 2020, the member exhibits offer a chance to evaluate how my work’s changed in six months.

The big realization? Experiments and process stack up in the studio, but there is virtually nothing completely finished. Ok, I guess. The process and time has been instructive.

What are the materials for my fiber art these days?

  • Stitching with plastics – the stuff that we’d normally toss and cannot be recycled.
  • Using materials at hand.

These parameters give me lots of room and interesting results. I’m calling this series Building Blocks.

Alanna Nelson Fiber Art - Wool, plastic, cotton - Building Blocks 1

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!

Invasion of the Invasives

Invasion of the Invasives

Remember how we decided to move just as a pandemic swept the world?  We’re still here, healthy, thankful and nesting in our new home base. I spend a lot more time outdoors, watching birds, moons, tides, plants and trees.

The autumn olive tree (Elaeagnus crispa) was one new discovery. Found in the north east and upper midwest, it is considered invasive. Most trees climb high, but the autumn olive prefers to crawl out, shading out plants below. With a super-sized, shimmery silver olive-shaped leave, legend has it that immigrants from western Asia brought along autumn olive seeds because the trees produce fruit in just a few years. The bright red berries attract all kinds of birds, who happily disperse the seeds wherever they perch.

Autumn Olive tree in Massachusetts summer 2021
As this nugget of information entered my brain, Doorway A Gallery called for artists who work/play with natural inks, pigments and dyes for their October pop-up gallery. What a great excuse to curb an invasive shrub’s growth and play with fiber! Let the experiments begin.

Paging through my books on dyeing fiber with plants and kitchen waste, there were general guidelines about the usual weight of goods, et al. Then, on the internet, I found someone’s experiment dyeing with autumn olive leaves. Ok, so the berries aren’t key here, but the leaves are the way to go. Nice! This way, I could make syrup for pancakes and cocktails. A delicious BBQ sauce highlighted there tangy, tasty berries. But back to the leaves…Why I didn’t turn to Botanical Colors is beyond me. Clearly, the dye pot called my name and I wanted to start playing.

Autumn olive leaves and green berries

I made two different autumn olive dye pots. The first pot started with leaves brought to a boil, then steeping for ten days. Good grief, what stinky mess. When it came time to dye the fiber, the garage could hardly keep in the stench. Although I mordanted with an alumimum potassium sulfate after the fact, the final fiber was a stinky, rich brown.

My next pot was created in a more traditional method of simmering for a longer period of time and the dye bath was not fermented. My fiber was a richer color of reddish brown, but certainly not the golden color I’d hope to find. I also tossed in some bright wool blue and red roving, just for kicks.

My final pot used a mordant made from rusty nails (so who knows how weak or strong it was), with the remaining dye bath.

Final results? A nice range of browns, and richer reds and blues which work, aren’t glamorous, but fit nicely for my palette.

Autumn olive dye bath on red, blue and white wool
With new colors in my wool stash, it’s time to start felting. My first play took one of the larger wool battings, the blues to create a background that I embroidered using strips of plastic bags.

These plastic bags weren’t just any old plastic. During our sailing cruise in August 2021, we went through 8 bags of ice. Why couldn’t I use these plastic bags again? The boundless forms of extruded petroleum products create the building blocks of our lives. https://www.yournec.org/microplastics-and-plankton/. We are what they eat.

Building blocks 1, 2021 felt and plastic by Alanna Nelson

Liza Bingham,  Rachel Leaney and I shared our play time results in a very fun pop up in Waltham. Artists from Waltham Mills peeped out of their studios, masked and ready to socialize. Friends and other Instagram followers stopped by, which was a lot of fun.

Months have passed since that November lunch time, and a friend dropped off a pile of green #2 plastic bags that she thought I might find useful. The bags had a bath, and I’m thinking about blending outdoors with my stitching and working more with plastic that might otherwise head to the incinerator or landfill. More on that later.

Every time we move house, what I create changes. When my kids were small and we lived outside Rome, I started dyeing cotton, because it was easier to hang outdoors with the kids and keep an eye on the dye baths.

Near Milan, the fabulous fibers and fabric stores creeped into my wall quilts.

Once we moved to New England, trips to Sheep and Wool Festivals pushed my creations to the wooly side.

Now the nearest fabric store is a 20 minute drive, although there are two wonderful thrift shops that could work. What do I have in my stash? What do I have in hand?

Clearly, it’s time for the next adventure.

Luke Haynes

Luke Haynes

“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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Status of the Studio – 2020

Status of the Studio – 2020

This is progress; a question or a statement; studio unfolds.

As 2020 draws to a close, a deep sigh follows my gaze as it scans the sun filled scandalously sloven space also known as my studio. Curtain fabric, slip cover pieces, two inch cotton squares and strips and felted projects cover the top layer of all surfaces. Boxes and baskets of felt pieces, carded wool, fabric, notions, yarn and tools aren’t settled in their new home although it’s more than five months since the move.

Light pours in Alanna Nelson's messy fiber art studio

Is this where I want to be?

How do I balance my expectations of my creative space and the reality?

I am where I am. I am what I am. Or, as Amy Porterfield advises, “you are where you need to be.”

Patience and setting reasonable goals were skills I worked on during 2020. With that mantra and perspective, I look again at my space. Of course there is progress. In mid-July, when the movers left, you could hardly navigate the room for all of the boxes (it was a great hiding place for the cat). Not all of the boxes belonged in the studio, but many did. While it’s untidy now, there are definite workspaces defined.

Despite passing on things I no longer needed or wanted, the pile unfinished projects and explorations was significant. In 2019, completing knitting UFOs (unfinished objects) was a priority. In that spirit, I decided not to put away unfinished projects. In my sight means on my mind, right?

As a result, I’ve finished not only curtains for most of the house, but several long-standing pieces. This exercise in patience, practice and persistence brings me joy and encourages me to think about priorities.

As the list of projects in the works dwindles, my mind clears and I get a stronger idea of what I want to create next. Of course, tendonitis constrained my stitching, knitting and just about anything I enjoy this fall. I used the time to read, write and use my rotary cutter.

So here comes 2021. It won’t be perfect and there’s a lot of work ahead. I want to be brave, work hard and dare to do the ideas that come into my head and heart. Let’s see how my studio changes.