Sketchbooks

If I have a favorite studio item, it is my sketchbooks.  They are filled with ideas, creative rumblings of things realized, or things only half-formed.  Ways of remembering, of re-thinking old ideas through the lens of many more years of learning until the old becomes new.  Though they will never win awards for beauty, in my eyes, they are beautiful beyond description.

So many are ones I made-- and these seem to be the most fun to work in, the ones I fill and over-fill with little drawings, maps, glued, stapled, stitched or taped bits of paper or color chips, fabric and thread; punched holes in the sides of pages for collecting thread or yarn or fabric strips-- These are the brightest part of the bookshelf.

Recently, I went through the excruciating week-long exercise of organizing the bookcases in the studio.  Half way through, there was no daylight in this tunnel, but I am glad I kept at it and chose not to simply shove the books back in place.  I would like to say it was such a beneficial bit of work that I will do it once a year . . .  However,  I think my cue will be when I KNOW I have something on those shelves, but CANNOT find it!  To safeguard the most important things, all the sketchbooks are on one place, now.  Or, in two cases and spilling into the third.

I do not mean to disparage the commercially made sketchbooks because they have their place-- actually, many places-- on the bookshelf.  They are often immensely practical because of their spiral binding, but are sometimes not so interesting from the outside, especially if the covers are hard book boards that do not want to bend as they are packed full of ephemera.  This packing process leads to their morphing into wedge-shaped books that resemble over-filled laundry bins.  Fitting them on the bookshelf is like trying to close the suitcase that is packed for a month of travelling when it was only designed to hold a weekend of clothes.  A future project, maybe for a week of snow or sub-freezing temperatures, would be to go through them and make them less cumbersome, divide up the contents into several smaller . . .

All of this book talk is leading up to the point that the Knoxville FreeStylers and the Atlanta SWAT (Stitching With A Twist) group are taking up sketchbooking in 2017, and we have been making our own books, for starters.  That way the pages are whatever paper we desire, any size, shape, have soft, malleable covers with pockets for stuffing with interesting notes or found objects, or even for the mundane task of holding pens or pencils . . .  To this end, we are customizing our sketchbooks.  Mine range from the elegant, soft-covered single-signatures in pouches made of embroidered silk or linen, to the basic workhorses, with soft covers made from fabric-covered pellon or stiff hand-made paper, both with varying kinds of closures.  The pouch books are purse-sized travelling companions, especially nice because the pouches are refillable as the sketchbooks are used, and the filled books go on the studio shelf for future reference.

The volumes are home to ideas spilled through numbers of books that I think of as places to muse on paper, a collection of wonderings.  I go through them when I'm in need of inspiration, and that is when the old ideas start to arrange themselves into new books on a single subject.  The major collecting starts with the single-subject-book, thread samples, cloth, colored sketches, dimensions that will or won't work, stitch sampling . . .  Oh, my goodness, but what fun the gathering-in process becomes!  Ursula Le Guin says it best:  "When action grows unprofitable, gather information; when information grows unprofitable, sleep."

Sketchbook: Bugs!

Confession time:  I am a fan of the Natural World only up to a point.  When we pass by birds, flowers and trees, mosses and ferns, or we have a few days at the beach, stand under starry skies or enjoy spring rains, I cannot soak up enough of these beautiful moments.  Eventually, however, the insect world has to be acknowledged.  And there I slam on the brakes.  Born, raised, and always living in the Deep South, the Natural World has so kindly offered me a broad pallet of insects to invade my worst nightmares.  I remember, as a small child, playing barefoot in the yard beside our house.  I must have been concentrating quite deeply on my game, because I suddenly noticed caterpillars crawling around me.  Marching toward me in what seemed to my child's mind an unending deployment, an army of these black and yellow creepy-crawlies invaded my play space under the trees.  I clambered to the top of a chair and began screaming for my mother to come and rescue me.  It hasn't gotten much better since then, though I don't climb on chairs anymore.  I still scream.

One day, however, I decided to take this unreasonable revulsion and turn it into a smile via my sketchbook.  If you can laugh about something, it isn't so terrifying, I reasoned.  I gave the enemy personality, even human clothing, and had a good time with them.

I think about my friend Carol and how unafraid she is around bugs, how truly interested she is in them, and I try a little harder to loosen up.  But, in truth, I still don't like them.

I've been adding sketches of bugs for several years, now.  Trying to be open-minded.  Sorry, bugs.  Really.

Purposeless Play

Purposeless play -- this play is an affirmation of life -- not an attempt to bring order out of chaos nor to suggest improvement in creation.  but simply a way of waking up to the very life we are living, which is so excellent once one gets one's mind and desires out of the way and lets it act of its own accord.
                                        — John Cage

Purposeless Play, for John Cage, was a way of life.  Do you know of him?  He made his mark on American avante garde music of the 1960s, which is where I first knew of him, but he did not limit himself to a single medium.  All of the creative world was his playground, and his lists of accomplishments is long and delightfully varied.  He is someone you love or hate, no middle ground possible with him!

I like his idea of Purposeless Play.  Today I will take you along with me on a trip to my studio, and we shall indulge in a little soul-improving, Purposeless Play.  Bring your teacup or mug and Let us go then, you and I . . .  (sorry, I have just finished reading The Weird Sisters, and while I do not eschew Shakespeare, I choose T.S. Eliot as my muse).  Further, do not ask, "What is it?"  Let us go and make our visit.


Ahem.

Watercolor play today.  I used a tutorial by Carla Sonheim on her blog "Snowball Journals" to play at painting flowers.  See this interesting process here.  February 22, 2012 is the posting date.

Step one was to put blobs of paint on paper, Letting it dry completely.  I used a long piece of landscape watercolor paper and a watercolor postcard (for my sister).  Step two was to paint around the blobs with gesso, cutting back into the gesso with the pointed end of the paintbrush handle, making textured circles around the blobs of color.  I am fascinated by the texture the gesso makes above the blobs of color.

Then, to the gym for Yoga Stretch exercise class while everything dried.

After lunch and a shower, back to the Studio.  Steps three forward involved drawing out the flowers and creating a background, both of which I did with pencil.  Carla has a marvelous loose, flowing style, and I tend to over work and add little bits of color that mix at a distance.  I could not resist pulling out colored pencils, dye pencils, and graphitint pencils as well as a bit of fine pen for this.  These are my results:

All the time I was working, I had fabric and thread on my mind.  I can't help it; I am hard wired to stitch!  I have some ideas about using this "purposeless play" for stitching some loose, not-a-bit-like-reality flowers (I always think of those sorts of flowers as "Fantasy Flowers From A Far Planet").  Will check back in with results.

Sketchbook: Out On A Limb

This is my response to the April theme in the Sketchbook Challenge.  Charles just bought a new birdbath, and this is my bit of thinking on the back yard and the coddling nature of his relationship with the greedy little birds there.  Not that I object, but the birds do have a nice go of it back in their "spa" territory.

We are hoping to have cardinals nest in the trees in back, and there are worms in the compost pile for the robins.  A feeder that is meant only for little birdies (no fat squirrels) hangs over a slate-floored dining room for the bigger birds and the squirrels and chipmunks.  Now, the birdbath.  What decent-minded bird could look the management in the eye and ask for more?

Little Pink Book For Bethy

This started as an experiment, a new way of making small books that I dreamed up.  After removing it from my paper press and sewing the three signatures in place, I wrapped the front and back covers in pink and white striped cotton so it would appeal to Bethy.  Her drawing skills have skyrocketed the last several months, and with all the bulbs coming up, she is excited about flowers.  What a great combination this could be!

Giving her a book of her own in which she may draw at will would encourage not only her drawing skills but the idea of putting ideas down on paper.  If she has several of these sketchbooks on her shelf by the time she begins Kindergarden next fall, she is on her way to the sketchbook/journal-keeping habit.  She may wander into the field of art, of music, of literature and poetry— or engineering and higher mathematics.  All are candidates for keeping notes for future reference.

This one was made from Mediovalis cards so I didn't have to worry about tearing the paper to be uniform and neat.  Uniform and Neat is not something I learned at an early enough age for it to "stick."  I love hot-press paper, have several large sheets of it to play with.  I may  pull them out and start the next book, as it is a rainy day without promise of sun.  I have numbers of sketchbooks I have made and used over the years, and maybe it's time to add another to my collection!

Another idea is to use a box for journal/sketchbook pages.  I'm still thinking through the pros and cons of that— how would someone as scattered as I keep up with them?  Taken out to work on an idea, I have a feeling the pages would simply be subducted in the general earthquake environment of the studio when I'm really in the zone.  The idea of a box is simplicity itself . . . maybe too simple?

Sketchbooks/Studio Journals

For weeks, months really, life has been driving itself and I've been half-dozing in the passenger seat.  Late last week, as I finished up some pieces in the studio, I realized that creative thought was giving way to fatigue.  I began wandering between stacks of fabric, bowls of thread, and boxes of wool, hoping for some tactile inspiration. I found lace insertion I'd set aside to color (last summer) and began to wind it onto a creel— all 50 tangled yards of it.  Still nothing.

Eventually I got to the bookcase and paused at the sketchbooks.  They were like magnets, and I took one from its shelf, then another.  It was a moment of re-visiting ideas, like a chat with old friends.  I carried one to the drafting table, opened a new sketch book and reached for a pencil.  It was obvious, after only a few minutes, that all these weeks of not drawing or making notes had taken a toll.  Once I started doodling and drawing, however, I couldn't stop the ideas from spilling out!  Blessed old journals— just handling them reminds me of how much energy they hold.

I settled into pen and ink, filling a page with black ink doodles in a Zen manner of concentrating.  I slowed down and drew circles that more nearly resembled circles than my usual quick sketch, really watched where the curved line bent, and I filled in the open spaces carefully, staying right within the lines (just like I was supposed to do in first grade and never did).  Every mark had purpose and connection.  Even my heart rate slowed, and I could feel my own breathing.  I was "in the zone."

Next I sketched one of my favorite veggies from notes I'd made for a pastel drawing class I took with my sister winter before last.

I went to the sewing machine and did a free-machine embroidery based on my pencil sketch (two bulbs of garlic is always better than one).

Glancing around the embroidery table, I realized that the Little House theme has been exhausted, but the idea of windows interests me, windows as seen from the outside of a house, and very abstract.  The best source of ideas is to walk or drive through old neighborhoods, where the architecture is apt to be more interesting.  Coincidentally, we are making a short trip to Savannah this week, where interesting architecture is the only game in town, so I should have ideas by the dozens when I'm back in the studio.

If you want inspiration to get back into working in a studio journal from more than a dozen contributing artists, go to this new website:  http://sketchbookchallenge.blogspot.com/ 

Friday I made a trip to Blick for a few pencils and the experience was so good I went back on Saturday!  Gradually, I am getting myself together again, and even driving short distances.  I had forgotten how exciting a trip to an art supply store could be— and how much more exciting to unwrap everything and try out the new toys.

The Summer Garden

This little garden "grid" is an idea stemming from my observations of a lovely patio, obviously quite old, made with differently-shaped tiles, covered with moss, fallen leaves, and little plants growing between the cracked paving holding all together. Old homes have the most interesting garden features, I believe.



I am starting to plan my own extended patio, which we will probably put in sometime after the weather cools a bit (does it seem like it has been summer for an awfully long time?). Looking at different paving stone is quite interesting! And thinking about the two separate parts of this patio to be put in gives great scope to the imagination. One will be a mostly shaded patio, the other a mostly sunny one. As the tiles weather, they will gain very individual character, much like the fifteen little tiles I have embroidered. This is a detail of one of the tiles in the grid, lines of long straight stitch couched down with small straight stitches, one of my favorite ways to add texture to an area:



Along with thinking of the coming autumn, I am still capturing the flowers of the summer in my sketchbooks. These two drawings are from a sketchbook I made ten years ago and just "rediscovered." It was part of a small box of books I made for a gallery ten years ago and when I left, I packed them away and promptly forgot about them until I was rummaging amongst the boxes this past week. There are even covers I made without sewing pages in them-- a good project for later in the year.



The paper is handmade (my own), and the cover is raw-edged fabric layers stitched with heavy hand made paper as its core. The flowers are half-filled with fabric glued in to the leave and petal shapes, which is how I feel about the flowers at this time of the year-- half with us, half memory. I am trying to work out an interesting way to make a fiber work of this half-and-half concept, but the textures of paper and the fabric scraps with the delicate pen and ink lines seem to resist stitching.

As hard as it is for me to believe, there are some things in life that simply don't read well as embroideries. Ow! I can't believe I just wrote that!