One Man's Trash

The theme of my art life in this new year has been very cohesive. This is a wonder to me, because the source of my projects is coming from many people and places. There must be something in the air. Yes, I do believe that after all the media attention to "going green" and caring for our planet, it has come down to this: you aren't in the proper groove unless your art is REDUCED, REUSED, or RECYCLED!


It all started with an article I saved from "Cloth, Paper, Scissors",  a magazine for mixed media artists that touted the magical transformation of colorful magazine photo pages into abstract backgrounds for collage, or further for the stories that one could read within the blobs and streaks created by the process. This magic happens by treatment with a certain brand of concentrated orange cleaner ("earth friendly"), not easily found in my vicinity. So far my experiments with the dilute product haven't worked, but my husband, who loves a shopping challenge, is on the case of finding it and making this thing reality.


The second experiment involved a common food source for dyeing, some cloth on hand and some patience. Tea dyed fabrics have been around for years, but tea stained tea bags, now that's the new rage! Recently made popular by quilter and painter, Judy Coates Perez, the resulting papers are used as base layers in both paper and fabric constructions. One cheap box of iced tea sized bags brewed up, some leftover muslin, two days of waiting, and then the patience to deconstruct, clean, and iron the bags, and--voila!--dyed muslin, tie-dyed muslin, and a sort of tie-dyed paper for almost free. When I calculated my lifetime consumption as a tea lover, I could have had about 40,000 tea bags by now! I could have gotten rich selling those cute stained papers to people who just can't be bothered fussing with those teeny, tiny staples.

Deconstructing the tea bags which have been sitting for two days dyeing the  "tie-dye" cloth

Three pieces of tea dye cloth and a couple dozen dyed papers

But lest you think I've just been spinning my wheels collecting trash, I've actually been making some cool journal-based art and getting ready for some soulful cloth and stitch. By now you may have read about or participated in the Strathmore visual journal online workshops. Some of us are working on a month long layered project called "Recycled Journal Pages". This is a fine way for newbie artists like me to learn about basic art materials and techniques, and how to take our own ideas and efforts to another level. I have found in just two weeks, I am making images I never would have imagined and stirring my creative pot into whole new recipes.

"Deconstructed Hippo" Week 2: Added layers of gesso, charcoal pencil, and oil pastel 

Two journal pages related to a December visit to Chicago have been combined and enhanced.  Fifi swims in her  world of wine bubbles while the cheese cow looks on.

"Where's Pinky? Greg and Pinky are transformed into little monsters.

I haven't forgotten that I was, in my previous life, primarily a cloth and stitch artist. Part of my reason for learning to draw and paint is to find a more creative and personal voice to bring to that work. Late last year, a new (old) technique and movement of cloth artists became known to me. The term "boro" (mended cloth) is a Japanese concept of reverence for the preciousness of old cloth with history. It is a slow and careful sort of repair and creation of new cloth from old or scrap cloth, instilling story and spirit into the new piece as it is made. One of the leaders of this movement, and the teacher of my upcoming class, called Contemporary Woven Boro, is Jude Hill, the Cloth Whisperer. If you haven't heard of her, you might enjoy taking a look at her work and her philosophy. She is a poet who lives her poetry.

Old linen fabric, dyed, is woven with rust printed fabric.

An unfinished project from the Cloth to Cloth workshop by Jude Hill. A walk on the beach, the waves, seaweed...?

Meanwhile I am off to spend some time learning to hear the story that my cloth has to tell me, so that I may stitch it in, and bring it to life. Ah, the poetry of recycling!

Bright Lights, Big City: Part I

For much of my life I have had the grave misfortune of living in my parents' American dream: the clean tidy life of the the suburb. In high school I vowed to never return to the "little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky." (This a folk song of the 60's I used to play on my folky wannabe guitar.) Unfortunately life played me a dirty trick, and that's exactly where I have been for the majority of my years. (But we'll rant on that another day.)


My point here is that whenever I get the chance, I reenergize with a trip to one extreme or the other--pristine country or the lights and crazy energy of the big city. I happen to live on the edge of farm country Indiana, but only an hour door to door with downtown Chicago, and that is where my siggy, Dave, and I spent a fine holiday weekend sucking in so much city energy we can live off the power of it for the rest of the month.


Our long weekend was based on a yearly work-related party that gives us an excuse to have to be in the heart of Mich Ave the first weekend of December. But the real fun has nothing to do with a stuffy dinner dance in a crazy commercial hotel. Really it's all about reconnecting with art and architecture, shopping beyond the mall, and bundling up and walking everywhere until we can't walk another step.

Nothing like a mug of hot wine to cozy up the out of doors

Fortunately our time in town coincided with some wonderful events. Arriving late morning on Friday, we checked in to our boutique hotel, a place that affords some personal attention and lovely extras (like a complementary wine hour), and headed off to stop No.1, the Christkindlemart. This is an open air German market (run by native Germans) where the main activity, if you are not buying carved wood tsotchkes and glass ornaments, is a lunch like this: hot melting chocolate soft pretzel for appetizer, steaming potato pancakes with apple sauce and sour cream, washed down with mugs of hot spiced wine. Barely noon, and all of Daley Plaza filled with calorie sated, tipsy international and American tourists, and workers on their lunch breaks (hopefully not drinking).

Beautiful paper lanterns help warm the spirit

Next stop, art supply heaven (for a girl from the land of Michael's), Blicks in person: ruling pen, black Procion dye, absorbent ground, jewelry pliers, a water brush with a tiny tip. Happy Hanukkah to me! The Chicago Architecture Foundation, which runs some fine boat tours in season, has a fabulous gift shop of all things architecture. Kept us busy looking for quite a while, but left with wallet unscathed, and just a coloring book of the designs of Charles Rennie Mackintosh.

The famous lions of The Art Institute don't need funny hats to stay warm

Ahhh, the Art Institute, a formidable presence. You could spend days there exploring all the nooks and crannies, special exhibits and activities, but as a member, I feel no need to do more than say "Hi" to my faves: the Thorne miniature rooms decorated for the holidays, the magnificently restored and reinstalled Chagall's America Windows. We'd yet to see the new Modern Wing, and while less than impressed with the gallery offerings, sat upstairs in the lounge as the sun descended, soaking in caffeine and modern lines.

The Chicago faces of Millenium Park face off. These are actually a pair of   water spitting fountains in  the summer, which delight the children who play in the catch basin.

Cloud Gate (know as "The Bean") reflects the Michigan Avenue skyline

Heading North along Michigan Avenue just after sunset.

My handsome man overlooking the ice rink.

The walk back to the hotel necessarily deserved a detour through Millennium Park, which we rarely see in its nighttime glory.  For dinner, we finally crossed the river to eat at Bin 36, a lovely wine centric restaurant nestled behind the famous condo towers of Marina City, the House of Blues and the Hotel Sax. We sampled wine flights (Chianti and Beyond), shared some heavenly bison fillet on polenta, and finished with a cheese flight (Cows Through the Ages.)

The final scene, well that would be me in the hotel window seat, and my skyline sketch.  A perfect end to an amazing Day I.

Can You Say "Synchronicity"?

Just a week ago, I brought up the concept that opening oneself to the possibilities that life offers may result in a surprising number of offers from life. Last Thursday, Melanie Testa, one of my favorite artists, teachers, and all-around artist boosters, blogged about a challenge she had set for herself for the next month or so, and invited us all to join her. The object, as I see it, is to have an open heart to the possibilities of what may come from drawing lines on fabric on a daily basis.

Here was a relatively quick and easy opportunity to continue my drawing practice and relate it to textiles in a direct manner. The supplies needed: fabric, a permanent marking medium such as paint or dye, and a  means of making the marks, a particular sort of pen nib called a ruling pen.

Since I had done some preliminary explorations in early autumn with screen printing, I had on hand leftover soda soaked cotton, and a number of bottles of thickened procion dye. Perfect! Only problem was, I live nowhere near a good art supply store and was not likely to find this "esoteric" tip at the craft chains. What to do? Meanwhile busy with the arrival of out-of-town guests, I put the thought on hold.

The next morning saw us off to Michigan City for sightseeing, a chance for photography of our gorgeous Indiana Dunes and maybe a few dollars lost at the local casino. An outrageously balmy day found us wending our way down rural Hwy 12 through woods and National Park land and past unseen communities tucked away in the dunes. Suddenly, out of the "Myst", rose a mysterious, unassuming structure tucked at the side of the road, promising ART SUPPLIES! We doubled back, thinking, "not likely, but what the heck?" Inside, a rabbit warren of crowded aisles overflowing with wonderful enticing art stuff. A slightly eccentric-seeming clerk knew of what I inquired and dove in to try to locate one. Alas, all that was available was the compass set, that I figured was more than I wanted and not quite right.  I thanked him and went on with my company to enjoy the day.

Looking Northwest form Mt. Baldy toward the Chicago
skyline shrouded in the "Myst".

It may look like November, but it felt like September.

   

It's usually quite windy atop this five story sand dune, but this day
it was totally calm.

Looking East to the Michigan City's coal fired power plant.

  

The wonders of nature: who'd think that trees could grow in sand atop a windy hill.

The boating season over, their summer home all empty and quiet.

The lighthouse, a symbol of Michigan City.

Many hours filled with beautiful sights, a great Reuben sandwich, and a terribly rare event for me: I actually walked out of a casino with new money in hand! (Hey, no fortune, but $25 on a half hour of penny slots isn't so bad.) Again, a sort of omen: I had to go back for that ruling pen, even if it meant getting a compass I didn't need. But it was now ten 'till five, and surely they would be closing shop. But no, lights still on, and the manager in his easygoing helpful manner, saying no to the compass, pulling out catalogues to show me what I needed, and then...finding a lone replacement tip to sell me for...just four dollars! Use it as is, or attach it to a handle of something else, he suggested. Sold! 

As I stood at the register to pay with my winnings, what should my eyes fall upon sitting in a pile directly in front of me, but a packet of sepia tone pens I had been craving after just seeing them used that week by a journaling classmate.  A bit scary and magical the way the universe has reached out to get me what I wanted and needed, and for free, too!

The simple tools for the line challenge, ready to roll!

Here is my first line study. Thanks Melly for the challenge; thanks universe for stepping up to assist!

Five and a half inches square. Black procion dye on white cotton.

The means and the booty. And the change!
Note the lighthouse on the store logo.
By the way, the nib fit nicely into the handle of an old foam paintbrush.