Fiber Art Exhibits Gearing Up for Fall, Part 1

One of the joys of looking through the mail is receiving invitations from artist friends and colleagues for their upcoming exhibitions. This is the season for new fiber art exhibitions, and this fall will be no exception. Visiting art exhibits is self-stimulating. It is also a fact that, especially in our field, other fiber artists eschew petty jealousies and competitiveness, instead appearing at openings from near and far to see other fellow artists, and to be supportive of those whose work is on exhibit.

Conversation in Fabric at the Ohio Craft Museum in Columbus. The fabulous work of artist Susan Shie graces the exhibition postcard.

The exhibition I curate, The Artist as Quiltmaker, juries in the fall, but hangs in the late spring, a time when the school year is coming to an end and we all dream of the coming summer. The biennial exhibition, the second oldest, longest-running venue for viewing art quilts in the world (second only to Quilt National) carries the pulse of the art quilt movement, both through the jurors and the exhibitors throughout the history of the show. This year's juror, Carolyn Mazloomi, will bring her own sensibility to the entries, one of the exciting things about utilizing a single juror. The entry guidelines are left purposefully flexible. We do not limit the size or offer a definition of a quilt, for example. As a result, we really receive, and exhibit, very cutting edge work. If any of you are planning to enter, click on the link to the show above, and download the pdf entry form. The entry deadline is September 29, 2009.

Opening on September 13, Conversations in Fabric at the Ohio Craft Museum was curated by Tracy Rieger and Linda Fowler of Quilt Surface Design Symposium fame. The work of twenty-five artists will be on exhibit through November 1st in Columbus, Ohio. The exhibiting artists include longtime friends Susan Shie, Sandy Shelenberger, Deborah Anderson and Barbara Lind, new acquaintance Sue Cavanaugh, as well as the wonderful work of artists such as Dorothy Caldwell, Patricia Larson, and Catherine Jeffers. Because of the incredible depth of Ohio's art quilt scene, (successfully documented in my book), there is always something wonderful to see in Columbus. Don't miss this one.

Corner Office by Terry Jarrard-Dimond, from her solo exhibit, Textile Constructions

I am currently participating in an online artist dialogue started by South Carolina fiber artist Terry Jarrard-Dimond and called Compositional Conversation. It is the second such virtual artist project I have participated in, and it promises to be a very stimulating experience. I first became familiar with Terry's work when several of her art quilts were juried into The Artist as Quiltmaker a few years ago. A stunning, process oriented artist and craftswoman, Dimond's solo exhibition at the Goodall Gallery at Columbia College, South Carolina promises to be fabulous. Textile Constructions opens September 1, so check it out if you're in the area.

My husband had surgery on both feet earlier this week. As a result of caring for him until he can walk again, my focus is elsewhere this week, and likely in the coming weeks. Look for more information on upcoming exhibitions to see in the coming days. And enjoy your feet, and your hands! I have gained a new appreciation for these taken-for-granted body parts this week.

Cleaning Out Our Attics

These are fish napkin holders. They arrived in Saturday's mail, carefully wrapped and shipped USPS Priority Mail. Inside the box was a note from a dear college friend I had seen earlier in the week. She was in town from Paris visiting her elderly parents, and they had been cleaning out the attic of their family home. The never-used fish napkin holders, gifted to her parents long ago, had sat boxed up in the attic for years, waiting to be re-gifted to someone who still uses cloth napkins. That someone would be me, the recipient of a sweet and thoughtful gesture from a friend and her elderly parents, all of whom I adore.

This entire episode reminded me that we, 'we' meaning my husband and I, my siblings, my colleagues and all my friends in their fifties, we are all in a "cleaning out the attic" stage of our lives. The attic-clearing can be literal: passing long things we've held onto over the years, but no longer need or want, to someone else.

When my children left home, out of my house went extra furniture, dishes and pots and pans. Now that they both own homes, I have a list in my mind of special family heirlooms or otherwise valuable items in my attic and closets that I have now decided they are "old enough" to value and take care of. By becoming homeowners and parents, they have attained a certain level of stability in their lives at the same time that I am in the mood to clear "things" out of my own.

My 'baby' sister and I this summer, during her visit from Italy

My entire summer has been a more metaphorical cleaning of the attic. I have been acquiring new roles, such as "grandmother of three," "college buddy now in her fifties." I have also had the pleasure of not only forging fresh relationships with new grandbabies and old college friends, but of reconnecting with high school friends on Facebook and my own siblings, all wrapped in a parentheses of the music being created within my own family unit.

At this age, relationships become even more important, as they are my fuel for being an artist. Over the past decade, I have carefully swept my attic clean of unhealthy, one-sided relationships. I find I no longer have a tolerance for being with people who have nothing to give back in return. Instead, I have focused on my family, and building new and stronger relationships with our artist friends and musicians, all of whom provide deep love and support, shared experiences, and new ideas that find their expression in a cleaned out attic, where there is room to grow.

In July my tArty friends, a local artist group, met at my house to share their new work. It ran the gamut from exciting commissions, new, mind-blowing sketchbooks, and ideas developed into artwork.
Christy's commission sketches

Jill's sketchbook drawings

Christine with work inspired by her sketchbooks

In my own work, I have spent the summer working on designs for my new line of Magic Baby clothes. They have been selling as fast as I can get them finished and photographed. Now I am gearing up for Fall and Winter, with new editions being created in soft flannel, knitted fabric and baby cord. I am also trying to work out some baby boy designs. I need to come up with something very cute and very unique, but not "girly." My 'clean attic' and supportive relationships give me the support and space to let my mind have room to think.

Please don't get the idea that my house or my work space is literally clean. Quite the opposite. In my writing studio, every shelf is covered with research materials, my manuscript pages and files, and accented with piles of finished artwork, TagTalk cards and the like decorating the floor.

In my art studio, a too-small bedroom filled with a Pier 1 dining room table converted to a work table, fabric and works in progress are everywhere. It looks like a mess, but this is how I work. I have my fabrics organized in ways that I can find just what I am searching for. My trims and notions are organized in containers and boxes that fill the space under my work table. The lighting is terrible, but this is the space I have to work in, and this is where I work. Every day.

My point in showing this to you is that the "cleaning the attic" analogy has nothing to do with literal cleaning. It has everything to do with clearing out our lives so that we can focus on our passions. For those of you who haven't found your passion yet, I suggest the technique of attic-clearing to help you make room for finding it.



Another artist group I am participating in, Compositional Conversations, was formed online by my colleague Terry Jarrard Dimond. You can check the links in my sidebar to some of the artists who are also participating and writing about the project. Terry, an amazing artist, invited 16 artists to participate in a conversation, both in writing online and responding, but also by agreeing to be recipients of an art piece begun by her with a single piece of fabric which is sent to each artist respectively to be added to, considered, and conversed with. It's an intriguing exercise for the artists, and a chance to respond to the choices other artists have made. My turn to receive the artwork-in-progress is fast approaching. Each week, as I see the pictures posted from the other participants, my heart starts to race in nervous anticipation. Clearing out my metaphorical attic has made room for these new experiences and artistic conversations.

If you regularly follow my blog, you may have noticed that I have been absent for awhile. I have been really, really busy working, and have needed to focus on that. Somehow, though, the fish napkin holders arriving in the mail following six weeks of reconnecting with old friends and loved ones got me to thinking about the past, about attics, about relationships, and about making room for what is important. I hope, perhaps, my thoughts will jog your own in the same way. Time to clean your attic.

Nose to the Grindstone

Alright now, seriously. It's been almost a month since my last blog post.

Okay, seriously. That sounds like a confession to a priest in a movie. It's true, however. My life is not a movie. It only feels like one sometimes.

This is just a quick note to say hello, and to let you know that I have been working so much, and such long hours, that I haven't had the energy to think of anything clever to share. I will try to catch up with my sweet and kind readers soon.

In the meantime, happy August, and back to the grindstone for me.

Hearing Voices

Last year, I was part of a small group show with my local artist group, affectionately known as "the tArts." The show was held at the lovely and spacious Stocker Gallery at Lorain County Community College.

The tArts in the 2008 configuration: Christy Gray, Tina Rossi, Gayle Pritchard, Christine Mauersberger, Lois Carroll, Susanne Gregg, Jill Milenski, Susan Shie, at the opening of Flavors of Fiber in 2008.

One of the pieces I made for the show, I Hear Voices, was inspired by a song my husband wrote, Simon Says. It's a fairly large piece, given the work I have created in the past years, and attempts to tell the story in fabric. The installation image of the piece doesn't quite do it justice, because of my limited photography skills.

I Hear Voices in My Head by Gayle Pritchard, 2008.

All of this is to give a little background to the video I have posted to my blog. My husband, Chris, who has been a musician all of his life, also happens to be the most creative human being I know. Today, he made a video integrating the song, his photography and my art piece. I hope you will enjoy it.

Busy Is as Busy Does

What have you been doing this week? I hope it involved some pleasurable activities, even if it involved working for money.

My week started last Friday. Since I watch my grandson two days a week, in the middle of the week, I try to think of those days as my weekends, a time when I relax, try not to think about the work piling up, and play with him. The most pleasurable activity in my week, then, was last Friday night, when I went to a concert: two acoustic guitars, microphones, amazing harmonies, lots of friends and family present. My husband and his partner played for two and half hours, and it was really fun.

Chris and David brought down the house. Photo by H. Kimmel

Other than a quick visit with a visiting brother-in-law, I worked like crazy, launching my new line of Magic Baby clothing. I am tired, and have not had much time to write, so I'll just post a few pictures for your feedback. I had planned to put these on my etsy store immediately, but they keep selling before I have a chance. That's a good thing, trust me!

Magic Baby poncho, fits up to 30 pounds

Magic Baby Watermelon Garden dress, 12 mo. size

These dresses are really cute, if I do say so myself. They are completely reversible, two dresses in one, and size adjustable (at the shoulders), so they can be worn for a long time. I love the shaped edge bottom.

Detail of shaped edge from the Magic Baby fruity flowered dress, 18 mo. size

This one also has a really fun princess-y back bodice embellishment.

The third item in the product line are my snuggly Magic Baby double flannel blankies. The are super-soft and lightweight while still being cozy, cute and practical.

So that's my week at work. I am currently enjoying my weekend.

Creativity One Moment at a Time

Detail of Joie de Vivre 1 by Gayle Pritchard

My daylilies are blooming. Seeing them reminds me of the ephemeral quality of summertime, of life itself. The first time I recall seeing these flowers was when we lived in West Virginia over thirty years ago. On the frequent drive back and forth to Ohio, I would see them, the old varieties I now know, blooming in gullies along the side of the road. I thought they were beautiful.

In my garden, while I have a few of the newer, “everblooming” varieties, I cherish the old-timey ones, in which each bloom only lasts one day. Hence the common name, daylily. You can admire and cherish them for the day they are blooming, but they are on their own pre-determined schedule. The next morning, the previous days’ bloom will be wilted on the stem. They are of immense, and fleeting, beauty.

Creative inspiration seems to keep the same schedule as the daylily. An idea comes, seemingly out of nowhere. It could be in the mist before sleep comes, or first thing in the morning, the sleeper barely awake. Ideas come on long walks, in the shower, driving the car; the more inconvenient for recording them, the better. The creative mind seems to work this way. If I fail to focus on the thought, the very fleeting mist of a vision, it disappears, and my mind can no longer grasp the fullness of what it had seen in that instant.

My journal / sketchbooks are full of such attempts to capture the wisps of an idea before they slip away. The dropping out of thin air quality of creative inspiration is, apparently, a common experience. I remember hearing the story Paul McCartney told of writing the song Yesterday. He says he woke up with the melody in his head, and spent a month asking his friends and colleagues if they had heard it before. When he was sure the song, which he called Scrambled Eggs, was his own, he began to write lyrics.

While I believe that there is no particular magic to being an artist, I must admit that, when the creative mind works overtime solving a creative problem, it can seem very magical when solutions are delivered unexpectedly. It truly feels like grabbing the air and pulling out a gem.

Over the past two decades I have learned to keep my mind open. Looking in my journals reminds me of this. Thinking, sketching and dreaming are all part of an artists work-out routine. This is what creativity is made of. Anyone can learn it, but no one can teach it. It's a path you have to discover for yourself.

Sketch for The Day Momma Died, with front of two-sided piece below.

Going to the Circus at the House of Blues

Last weekend, we went to the House of Blues to hear the Cleveland band DOHM perform songs from their new album, The Circus. Their set didn't begin until 11:00 p.m., way past our bedtime, as my husband and I often joke, but we went early, and stayed for the whole show. And we weren't the oldest people present at this jazzy, melodic home-grown alt-metal band, or as Scene Magazine writer Keith Gribbins described them in his recent album review, "nü-metal."

I take a special interest in the performances and success of DOHM, not only because my son is the drummer, but also because I have watched these guys play music since they were practically pre-pubescent. I have watched them grow up, and marveled as they grew up to be really hot musicians. If you click on the DOHM link it will take you to their MySpace page, where you can hear a sampling of some of their music. I especially like Rags to Riches and The Exploited on their newest album...er, CD.

Cleveland Plain Dealer music review by John Benson

I have been surrounded by music for most of my life. My father was a musician, who made a record that I had never known about until after he died. During my childhood he kept a set of cocktail drums in our living room, which he would play with brushes whenever the mood struck. He also loved to sing, and my parents were both wonderful dancers. Like many little girls of my era, I learned to dance standing on top of daddy's shoes. I am sorry that he isn't around to see how his grandson and namesake grew to become a world class drummer.

Both my brother and his son are musicians, and my youngest sister's son, as well. My daughter and her husband both play. My oldest sister was, I think, first chair clarinet in our high school band. I even married a musician. In fact, on July 10th his acoustic duo Back Bay will be playing on an outdoor stage at the beach here on the Northcoast.

Living with music is, to me, like playing in the garden or going to see a play: the common threads of creativity, self expression and connection, to each other, the world, the earth, are what bind us. I cannot imagine a world without music. I cannot imagine a world without singing, dancing, art, flowers, drama or books. I guess I have managed to create the perfect world for myself, and, in the process, had a small part in passing it along.