I miscounted the number of pieces I finished from Feb to May over 13 working weeks. I think it was 29. This is the smaller version of a larger bark dress I wanted to finish. As with my previous Phloem series a few years back, this dress was the matrix for many many pressure and ghost prints
I made last year.
Once I was done printing it, I could assemble it. The skirt was
a collaborative effort with mighty help from Michelle, in 2024.
That piece was a warm up for this one I've had on deck for years, saving the largest bark grids for a full-sized dress. I ended up not using this tie but had to try many versions before settling on the final. I avoided construction for a while but once I got started, remembered that it's simply a matter of putting in the hours.
It was the first one we set up to shoot, and I was overjoyed to be in a larger space with
Stefan given the quantity and size of the work, plus the staging areas I needed to assemble everything before dismantling again to pack up.
A pleasure to let this one breathe, especially after sorting out a different strap system for the skirt than the previous ones.
This was a brief trip east, so I could only take in
one small show and one interminably long film.
SR was my student at Oberlin over 11 years ago and an evident star from the beginning. I have loved watching them grow and inhabit a singular life and career. This was a lovely circle, to be here with their cotton/abaca/linen pieces after having coached an Oberlin student from last year as he begins art internship experiences. And in another circle that arcs even wider, I met
Caron at the show and before the film. She had surprised me a couple years ago in Manhattan, which was a delight, but this was a proper catch up.
She and I met 16 years ago at Saltonstall, a wonderful residency in Ithaca, where I made
a huge amount of art that set many ideas spinning out into the world and continue to this day in my practice. I
made milkweed paper there with her help. Before I headed south to NYC, I drove straight from Cleveland to Ithaca to spend two heavenly nights back in my old studio/apt. It was a head trip in the best way.
The balcony was as I remembered, though everything in a different season than when I was there in September. Now I could look out and see gutters and understand what they are and what happens if you don't clean them. Why? Because I bought a house in the intervening years. Now, residencies, or any kind of travel away from my home means I get a glorious break from worrying about the structure that I am solely responsible for. I appreciate much more how other people and orgs take care of their buildings.
From the main house deck, you can see the new cladding on the old house plus the new structure built onto it. I had time to sit inside the new section after walking a bit, to try and figure out where the downstairs artist would work now that the old studio space was an accessible apt. After sitting and staring at the gallery for a bit, I figured it out! Last time I was here, I had a borrowed car. This is my real car now but this will be my last year with it. New hip in a month means new car before snow falls, I've decided. It took forever to be ready, but it's time, even if it means giving up my CD player.
Because rain was imminent, I walked right away, enough to enter the woods and get back without big injury. Enough to appreciate that someone else mows! Almost instantly, I could clear my head as I was completely alone, amongst old memories and friendly ghosts, seeing how everything had changed and nothing had changed. And considering all that has happened in my life since.
I came for
Judy's show. She was the director when I was here, and the current director
Lesley thought it would be a great idea to invite faraway alumni to return and surprise Judy during the last two weekends of her exhibit, when she'd be sitting in the gallery. I was so excited for this. Once I arrived, what felt the most special is that this is the kind of place with a leader who could even concoct such a celebratory scheme. You can see the movable wall that clicked in my mind to understand how the space now works when they are at full capacity with five residents.
Of course because I cannot ever travel without work in tow, I brought a bag of knitting to edition
a book that I was not allowed to touch while churning out new dress work for my summer solo museum show. I was pleased to re-engage in this work I did in 2010 in this very same space, and continue it on train and subway commutes in NYC, because an unexpected order arrived today. Now I can go home and not panic since it's closer to done than when I arrived.
It took her a while to figure out what was going on, but once it sunk it, Judy was fully in her element. I had been able to take in the show in total solitude and as soon as I saw this self portrait, I knew that she would be a great advisor: she had a double hip replacement. She and I both were born with a similar deformity, and it was so reassuring to hear that her first replacement was only two years after the one I will get in a month, age-wise. Her friend Debbie took the most delightful series of photos of us that captured our joy.
This is one of Judy's artists' books, made in part by nature's first papermaker, the wasp. In the gallery, we put together the fact that I was about to teach one of her friends, who was moving away. She insisted that I go to this farewell party, which led to a cascade of more small-world moments. I usually don't sleep well my first night or two anywhere, but these two nights were like resting in clouds, because I was so deeply present and at peace. The time was fleeting, but stretched in the moment, and already feels so long ago. It was the key to processing the fact that I have lived an incredible life, which I continue to create. I have activated so many skills and abilities that always existed in me, dormant, since last I was here. It is so very rare to revisit sites of personal history that allowed for massive and rapid expansion, so I am utterly grateful to Lesley for unlocking this experience exactly when I needed it.
These are the part of the last piece I finished for my show that opens in August, which took me right up to the deadline and way past my body's limit. It embodies the entire point of the show, and is made of offcuts and bits that I have saved in the process of making many other pieces, with a base, mostly, of old journal pages. Since I usually make my own books, the paper was recycled from studio offcuts. I destroy my own journals because no one needs to read them, especially at this point in my history where I was coming out from under a giant restraint, starting to expand into my actual self.
This piece also uses a technique that I devised in reverse, where I took three-ply hanji, dyed and coated it several times,
printed onto it, and then de-laminated it. This is a wonderful discovery because in the end, I get three sheets of hanji. One has the print (and the original heavyweight paper made the printing and transport much easier), two still have the dye but in varied ways because it can only travel so well through a multi-ply sheet, and the middle sheet has the residue of both. All three are
much easier to sew than the original.
I also washed some of the entries, and with the sewing, it's safe to display my private worries because it's purely texture and color to a stranger's eye. These last several months have been such an intense time, producing so much work so fast, and I learned a lot. I'm back on the road tomorrow for the longest stretch I'll be able to do for months, and then back into the fire of more massive projects. Yay for being grown enough to know that I needed to do New York this way this time.
