Losing Our Minds

My friend and fellow artist Christine Mauersberger, sent me an email yesterday with pictures and a question about a family heirloom, a gorgeous mid-19th century red and green quilt. I didn't ask permission, so I won't post a picture of the quilt here, but will tell you a story of what happened when I looked at it.

Gayle and Christine at our group exhibition opening, Flavors of Fiber

I am not an expert in 19th century quilts. My research expertise has been focused on the contemporary quilt movement, which emerged in the 1950s, and which I wrote about in my book Uncommon Threads: Ohio's Art Quilt Revolution. Two of my friends, however, happen to be world renowned experts in quilt history: Virginia Gunn and Ricky Clark. I first met Virginia in 1988 when we moved back to Ohio from Philadelphia. She was presenting a program on quilt dating, and participants had brought quilts for her to look at. Recently retired from the University of Akron, Gunn is still teaching courses at the International Quilt Study Center. Seven years ago or so, we had both been invited to speak at the Ohio Historical Society in celebration of Ohio's bicentennial, as had Ricky. Having recently received a family heirloom quilt of my own, I decided to bring it along, so I could show it to Virginia. Having told her nothing about it, she took one look at it, and said, "This quilt was made in Knox County, Ohio in 1840; I recognize the fabric." I was stunned, and she was right. That's how good she is.

I met Ricky Clark around the same time I first met Virginia. I attended a program on quilt history that Ricky was presenting related to the Ohio quilt documentation project she was conducting. Over the years, Ricky truly became a mentor, enthusiastically supporting my artwork production and my interest in quilt research. It was she who suggested that Ohio University Press approach me to write a book; it was she who gave me all of her old Quilter's Newsletter Magazines, and generously shared her other research materials. It was she who invited me to serve as co-curator for several exhibitions she assembled, and it was she who suggested that I take over as curator of the Artist as Quiltmaker exhibition, which she had founded in the early 1980s.

When Christine emailed me the picture of her quilt, I responded with my initial observations, then immediately went to put my hands on two of Ricky's books, which I knew contained detailed information about the style of quilt in question.

Quilts in Community was published with the research results of the Ohio quilt documentation project, and has always been one of my favorites. It is the perfect combination of quilt and state history, two of my passions. It is chock full of information about Ohio's wonderful treasure-trove of quilts and quiltmakers, with just the right helping of historical detail, such as the types of dyes used, or where Ohio's immigrant community came from. Oh, and there are lots and lots of color pictures.

Quilted Gardens was directly written about the type of quilt Christine had, and, although it wasn't strictly focused on Ohio quilts, the book contains its fair share of Ohio-made quilts from the 19th century, with wonderful genealogical stories to go along with the heirlooms.

It was delightful last evening to look through these books, since it had been several years since I had read them for the umpteenth time. Reading Ricky's words, the exquisite detail ferreted out from 150 years of quilt history by a brilliant mind, reminded me of the joy that comes from following one's passions. It also saddened me, because the Ricky Clark I knew no longer exists. She has been taken from us by Alzheimer's disease.

In the past several years, several fabulous women in my life have fallen prey to this terrible fate. Like Ricky, family friend, colleague and Oberlin printmaker Mary Rosenthal is gone. Painter, entrepreneur extraordinaire, dear friend and former mother-in-law Kathy Pritchard is gone. Kathy technically died of breast cancer, which she fought valiantly, but when I saw her last prior to her death, at my 50th birthday party, she didn't know me. I miss her. She was only in her early 60's. Another close family member, also quite young, was just diagnosed with Alzheimer's last year. I dread the day when she no longer remembers who I am. Finally, two nights ago, our dear Aunt Jane succumbed. Jane was also young, and had been a brilliant accountant, and one of the brightest women I ever knew. I miss her, too.

As the New Year, and the new decade, approaches, I am once again reminded of the frustratingly fleeting quality of life. I was hit over the head with this not-so-gentle fact when both of my parents died a year apart in the early 1990s. Once again, life nudges me to remember...remember love, remember who I am, remember to live in the now, remember, remember, remember...lest we all lose our minds.

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.

Threads of Inspiration

Inland Seas Maritime Museum
I was asked to write a guest blog last week for Subversive Stitchers: Women Armed With Needles on the subject of entering juried exhibitions, and obliged happily. Having been involved in all facets of juried exhibitions, as an artist entering a show, a juror selecting artwork for a show, and a curator managing the show, I have a lot to say on the subject. My comments only just scratched the surface. Check it out if you’re interested, and post your comments or questions.

One thing I really love about working in the fiber arts field is how supportive the community of artists, curators, and galleries is. The support and interconnectedness is only enhanced by the amazing growth of websites and blogs. When I was first starting out twenty-five years ago, I read everything I could get my hands on, and worked really hard to develop my work. I set aside Mondays as my 'paperwork day', (oh, to have only one day a week of paperwork again) and used that time in part to fill out entry forms and prepare slides to enter. When I moved back to Ohio from Philadelphia, I began to meet a larger group of artists, first in northeastern Ohio, and then around the state and the country. Through organizations such as the Art Quilt Network I found support and mentoring that buoy me to this day. I feel obligated and honored to pass along the favor.

There are still a ton of artists who work with textiles in northeastern Ohio. As I wrote about in my book, Ohio has long been an epicenter for fiber art, especially since World War II. We are lucky to have high profile regional organizations such as the Textile Art Alliance and galleries devoted to fiber art, such as Ginko Gallery in Oberlin, Ohio. Attending an exhibition opening, as I did last Friday night, is usually a chance to say hello to fellow artists, who always come out to see new work and to be supportive of the artists exhibiting.
The opening for Threads of Inspiration was held at the Inland Seas Maritime Museum in Vermilion, Ohio. Located next to the historical museum and right on the coast of Lake Erie, it was a lovely setting. The artwork will be on view through May 25th.

Although a small, invitational exhibit, the one room gallery space was big enough to hold a representative sample of the eight regional artists represented.

The organizer, Bay Village artist Christy Gray, showed several pieces from her water tower series. Her small framed pieces are quite intimate, embroidered with a spare horizon line on hand-dyed fabrics and quirky, oddly animated water towers. Her larger wall quilts, though still exhibiting very clean lines, have developed into more complex compositions over the past year or so. I took a double take at the overlaid leaves, unsure from a distance whether they were appliquéd or disperse dyed. Her fused appliqué technique is so fully integrated into the surface, the layering is only apparent on close inspection.

Artwork by Christy Gray, from her watertower series













Cleveland artist Christine Mauersberger’s work has taken a detour from the more conceptual pieces shown last year at the Stocker Center gallery in Elyria. The works shown in this exhibit are immensely engaging, embroidered pieces developed from dozens and dozens of ideas originally worked out in her sketchbook. They are quirky and primal at the same time, and oddly evocative of ancient textiles with their rhythmic pace. She calls them “maps.”


Another Bay Village artist, Si-Yun Chang, showed the only three dimensional works in the show. Created from Japanese paper covered with writing, the artist creates woven basket-like forms. Because they are not brightly colored, the flecks of writing still visible after the papers are woven and shaped create a gentle, beating rhythm in the pieces. Very satisfying.

Sculptural work by Si-Yun Chang

Artist Marty Young lives in Cleveland Heights, Ohio. A long time quilter, she recently has been inspired by rediscovered childhood photos. The work she has on exhibit in Threads of Inspiration strays from her typically larger Japanese-inspired, visually quiet wall quilts, instead incorporating hand colored black and white image transfers and brightly colored vintage fabrics, adding to the nostalgic feel of the work.




Left, artwork by Marty Young; Christy Gray's work on the right






There is much more work of interest to see, and more for me to write about in my next post. Go see the show if you can. It would be a great way to end an afternoon at the beach.