Anatomy of An Artist Resident, Part III

Anatomy of An Artist Resident, Part IAnatomy of An Artist Resident, Part II

Jeane and Sukanya leave in for Ireland portion of the Symbols and Stories project in fewer than six days. It’s a busy week. Holidays for Jeane, family preparation for Sukanya. Packing for both.

Each woman is a seasoned traveler. We can back a family for a week’s vacation in a day. Just us? A few hours. That’s for clothes and necessities. Each is taking art supplies, and that takes more careful selections.

The dates, late September, were chosen to fit enough time before major holidays for each. This week concludes the Days of Awe, the Jewish High Holy Days for Jeane. Yom Kippur is Wednesday. No packing or planning will happen from Sunday night through Thursday as Jeane prepares the house for the holiday, shops for the Break the Fast (Yom Kippur is a 25 hour fast from food, water, and just about everything except prayer and reflection),  and observes the holiday.

In early October is Navratri, the Hindu celebration of Mother Goddess Durga, and lasts nine days.

choices

A small sampling of yarn before making choices. Jeane wants all of them!

The window was narrow.

Actually, immediately after Yom Kippur, about the time we land in Dublin, begins Jeane’s favorite holiday Sukkot, eight days of dwelling in a rickety booth and reflecting on ideas of charity, shelter, sustenance, and study, among other things. She hates to miss it but will find time to observe it somehow.

selections

Yarn that made the cut. about 8 grams of each.

Part of this residency for Jeane is tapestry. Three looms were chosen, two of which are for Jeane’s work, one for community work. It is hoped that pieces will be added to the communal weaving from anyone who wants to participate.

A natural fiber, a blade of grass, special fabric, yarn — anything with means and a story is welcome to be added to the story and final work.

Looms aren’t enough, though. There has to be yarn to weave. Tapestry yarn is different from knitting yarn. For this project, single strand Faro was chosen. But there are 80 of so cakes from which choose?

Obviously, selections are made. It’s easier to decide whether to take that extra black pair of pants!

Please follow our travels & project at www.symbols-and-stories.com

 

 

 

 

Posted in Art, Art Inspiration, Ireland, Photography, Residency, Stories, tapestry, Travel, Uncategorized, Weaving, Women | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Shanah Tovah, 5779

Tonight, at sundown, Jews around the world begin the commemoration of Rosh HaShanah, the traditional birthday of the world, the New Year. 5779.

May 5779 be a year when families are reunited, in peace. May 5779 be a year of creation. May 5779 be a year of hope. May 5779 be a year of redemption. May 5779 be a year of understanding. May 5779 be a year of love. May 5779 be a year of safety.

May 5779 be a year of health.  Shanah tovah um’tukah. שנה טובה ומתוקה

Vogel.AYearofHealth2

A Year of Health, © Jeane Vogel Studios

 

Posted in Art, Judaica, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Hummers

Four or five hummingbirds zoom around the window. Two males chase each other off. It’s not the females they vie for, I think. They want first shot at the refilled feeder.

One lands. Drinks.

Some land on the feeder, some hover.

Empty. Full. Empty. Full. Some days the weather is cool, and the nectar lasts. Hot days are the worst for all of us, flora and fauna. The nectar heats, encouraging the mold to grow quickly. Ignore the mold at the birds’ peril. Bad nectar will kill them.

The hummers arrive in St. Louis in late April, feeding for strength to continue their trip north. They will fly as far as northern Ontario. Were I am scant 3 grams and winged, I might join them.

Or not. I don’t have the energy anymore. No one puts out feeders for me.

The birds I think of as “ours” arrive in late May. The are the ones who will mate and breed and feed hatchlings from our nectar.

I know some of them, all females. The males pass through in April and come back again in late August, or as late as October, depending on their understanding of the coming winter.

This year, the males showed up in mid-August. Their early arrival could predict hurricanes in the Gulf they are avoiding, or an early winter, or an inability to tell time, always chronically early or late. I know people like that. Birds too, I bet.

Our backyard is a declared sanctuary for animals. Moles and voles tunnel through our yard while neighbors set traps. Bunnies are born in warrens that the mower avoids, week after week. The garden is a smorgasbord. Take what you need but EAT ALL OF IT. No “one bite and move one to the next,” if you don’t mind. I can share.

Feeders reward us with many visitors. Crows, starlings, pigeons are tolerated so that maybe an Indigo Bunting will linger a few days. Three species of woodpeckers visit, munching on insects that would harm our trees. From March to May, gold finches will arrive in brown plumage and leave in bright gold. More than three dozen species have been seen at the feeders, including a hawk of some stripe that waits for the smaller birds and baby squirrels.

Great circle of life, baby. Great circle of life. My partner cringes. I chase squirrels, he goes after the hawk.

The hummers are the real reward.

Iridescent green or ruby patches at the throat. So much power and stamina and beauty and grace.

There is one who has visited my window feeder for the last two years. We know each other. Every morning and evening she would feed, then hover at the window, engaging in conversation. I speak aloud. She hovers for a moment. A moment is a long time to commune with wild being of another species. Every day in season. For two years.

It’s August and she hasn’t returned this year. I miss that morning greeting. Hummers don’t live long. Perhaps she died. Or moved on. Why would she come back here? Our nectar isn’t special.

Wait! There she is! Once. She hovers. We talk. She is gone.

I think she was saying goodbye.

Posted in Art Inspiration, Nature, Stories, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

An Argument with Art

Artists have total control over what they create. Total. Control.

They choose materials, set the design, tell the tools what to do.

It would be nice if it worked that way, wouldn’t it? Every artist and writer knows it doesn’t.

The art makes decisions, too. The art is alive.

Artists are partners with the art. We are not the only partners. God, goddess, muse. They all get credit sometimes. Some art is inspired by other art. Some art is outright copied.

Not all of it is good. All of it is alive.

img_0104

Take Them Home, Wedge Weave, 9×6 inches, inspired by Diné weaves of the 1870s, and 2018 US immigration/asylum crisis. 2018

Not all art argues with the artist. Some is compliant, resourceful, helpful. What if we add this little element here, the art whispers, so quietly the artist thinks it’s her idea. The art and artist work without distraction or ego.

Other times, every minute is a struggle. The art is not gentle but yelling. NO! You are doing it wrong. That is not what I am!

The art is alive. The art knows what it wants to be. Listen.

“Take Them Home” started out as an exercise. Could a simple wedge weave pattern could be effective?

A description of wedge weave deserves its own essay. The short description is a wholly original weave created by Diné (Navajo) artists in the 1870s. It’s woven with warp yarns laid on the diagonal to the weft (the threads that go up and down), instead of perpendicular to them. It takes longer to weave a wedge weave. Maybe it just seems longer.

Diné weavers abandoned the style in the 1890s because collectors wanted straight selvages. They didn’t like the distinctive scalloped edges that add to the visual appeal of the work.

The Diné weavers are venerated by each new wedge weave if we remember and honor them in the work.

Wedge weaves traditionally do not have fringes. Diné weavers create work that is finished off the loom. No fringes or threads in the back to needle in. They are masters. There is no wasted movement or energy in a Navajo tapestry.

This piece wanted fringes.

Nope. That’s not a wedge weave look. The artist and art argued. Out loud. For a full hour.

The art won. THIS is who I am. THIS is what I want to say.

“Take Them Home.” The children.

Take them home.

Posted in Art, First Nations, NewWork, tapestry, Technique, Uncategorized, Weaving, Wedge Weave | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

In Praise of “Bead-worthy”

Every once in a while as an artist you want to give your creative brain a break and do something mindless — but fun.

Mirrix offered a beaded bracelet weave-along this week. That sounds like fun! I haven’t worked with beads in years. While other artists created elaborate patterns from the tiny Delica beads comingled in one little bag, I carefully constructed a random pattern! It’s a cute wrap bracelet that took only a few hours. 37080544_10216947923436142_6423456644406968320_o

While weaving it, I was reminded of the year I spent creating a beaded collar for my daughter’s bat mitzvah tallit nine years ago. A tallit is a Jewish prayer shawl. It’s personal and special. And sometimes 13-year-olds love it for a minute, then forget it.

The few hours I spent working on this simple bracelet evoked the most powerful memories of struggling to craft a gift that a 13-year-old would love, and the adult she would become would treasure.

I knew the tallit would take a while to create. Starting from scratch, I purchase the silk, dyed it, purchased more, dyed it again, and prepared it for the collar and fringes (tzitzit.) Creating something this special requires thought, study, reflection. I wanted it to be right. This is a garment she would have her entire life.

A year is a long time to work on a project. Of course, I had to do it in secret so it would be a surprise. At times I’d look at it an wonder why I was putting in the effort. I don’t have time for this. Was this worth it? Was I making it to satisfy my ego? Was it any good? Would she care?

Hammy is an animal person, so animal scenes were drawn, beaded, changed, re-beaded.

Hammy Kotel

A dolphin, horse, panda, parrot, butterfly. I sewed the collar to the shawl hours before presenting it to her. She loved it. Then it sat in the tallit bag.

Five years later, in 2014, she is no longer a child. At 18, months before she moves to Namibia to study animals, she flies off to Israel. At the Kotel, the Western Wall, she pulls it over her head.

Knitters and weavers know the phrase “knit-worthy” or “weave-worthy.” A knit-worthy person is someone who appreciates the hand-knitted gift, will care for it, and understands the hundreds of hours –and pieces of your soul– that went into making it. There aren’t very many “knit-worthy” people out there.

Whenever we make special gifts for someone, we take a risk. Will it be appreciated? Will it be valued?

It’s funny how writing works. This started out to be a piece about a simple, fun beaded bracelet. It turned into praise of a “bead-worthy” daughter.

Posted in Art, Art Saves Lives, Daughters, Inspiration, Judaica, Weaving, Women | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Finding a New Voice

When you’ve spent a lifetime as an artist, perfecting skills, developing an eye, creating bodies of work that resonate — or don’t — with collectors, you are used to success. You are used to being good at what you do.

If being good at what you do is getting boring, here’s my suggestion: change media. Decide to create new work in an entirely different genre, then watch your ego crumble!

I first picked up a camera when I was about 10 or 11. My dad was stationed in Germany in 1961 during the Berlin Wall Crisis. I got the impression there wasn’t much for an Air Force Lieutenant to do there, so he purchased a nice German camera and slide film, and photographed the beginnings of Cold War Europe.

When he came home, the camera sat. I found the brown leather case fitted around the fixed-lens rangefinder camera and started to learn.

That was 1966 or so. I’ve been a photographer ever since. Oh sure, I’ve worked with pastels and watercolors and fiber and clay. I’ve always had a knitting project on the needles. Maybe somewhere there is a basket that I need to finish weaving. But photography has been my medium for 50 years.

Then I was attacked by tapestry. I chose that word on purpose. The discontinuous weft-faced weaving that looks so simple grabbed me and threw me to the ground! I was buying looms before I had any idea what I was doing.

Roughly three years later I’ve studied with some of the best tapestry artists in the country, created, learned, made mistakes, and started over. But there is is an exhilaration in learning something new, something hard, something that takes work and practice and thought and concentration and planning.

Photography is still a love, especially working with film. I will continue to exhibit and sell photography, but a devastating storm at an art fair this spring convinced me it was time to leave the art fair circuit. It was time to find a new voice.

I am not yet good at my new medium, but I will be.

So, here’s to starting over, learning new skills, creating new art, and finding a still quiet voice!

Posted in Art, fiber, Inspiration, NewWork, tapestry, Technique | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

An Artist’s Journal: Iceland, Lasting Impressions

It’s raining pretty hard, as it has been on and off for the last five days, and the wind is whipping the golden grasses, which is all that really grows in Iceland. I’ve hiked and driven and made photographs in the rain, but on this last few hours I prefer to sip tea and watch the ocean from my Airbnb studio apartment before heading to the airport.

It gives me time to reflect on this trip. The first two days were pure touristy. My daughter, Hammy, and I arrived a few days before she would head off to a 8-day university program on climate change and geology and all things geothermal. She’s an environmental earth science student and a total geology nerd. She patiently explains the type of volcanic rock AGAIN, even though I still confuse basalt (the rock) with balsamic (the vinegar.) We part ways at 6 am Sunday, March 10. I get occasional dispatches from her: Repelling down a glacier. 5-hour hike up a mountain. Playing with Arctic foxes.

Only one of those I made up.

I strike out in search of inspiration: people and places and ideas that tourists don’t have time for and the guides won’t take you to. I found lots. A highlight of the trip was a visit with artist Michele Bird, whom I met on a Facebook group she started to help refugees in Iceland. There is so much need and so few resources. Though living 3000 miles apart, Michele and I were able to connect quickly and spend a day, a night, and the next morning talking art, collaboration, how artists make their way in the world, and what we can do to support the next generation. Her home in Borgarnes on a fjord is an artist’s sanctuary.

I know these trips sound like vacations. I will admit to enjoying a pint in a pub watching fútbol, or savoring a local delicacy (vegetarian, of course), but I travel to learn, to expand my world, to recharge my art.

Here are a few things I take with me:

  • Ice cream. Grass-fed cows, treated humanely, produce the best dairy products. It might surprise folks from warmer climes that ice cream is everywhere and enjoyed outside, in the winter.
  • Chocolate-covered licorice. I’m only bringing home one bag. I will be looking for a source or importing it!
  • Lava fields. Iceland is an island that is still being formed by volcanic activity. There are lava fields everywhere. The craggy black and gray rocks are covered with moss, sage green in color. The black rock, green moss, sometimes red iron soil, while snow, blue water — photographs cannot begin to capture it.
  • Volcanos. They look just like other mountains. These tend to explode. The younger ones have an ominous “I just blew my top off” look to them, and they rise out of the golden fields.
  • There are three times more sheep in Iceland than people. Don’t mess with the sheep.
  • Icelandic horses are everywhere and attract a lot of attention. They are stocky, sturdy animals with long manes that cover their faces like a teenager’s unkempt bangs.
  • Arctic foxes are the ONLY mammal indigenous to Iceland. There were no rodents until the ships came. Cats are everywhere and a bit wild, but not feral. Virtually no insects. No reptiles or amphibians.
  • Drivers are courteous. The only time I heard a car horn was when a tour bus driver got annoyed by a tourist who left his car in the middle of the road to get out and get a picture.
  • Icelanders love a traffic round-about.
  • Police have very little to do. I saw only one cop and he was on a motorcycle. A local told me that’s the only time they see police is when it’s warm enough (above freezing) for the cops to “play on their motorcycles!”
  • When the temp gets above freezing, a few hardy folks get out their shorts.
  • The light changes minute by minute. Daytime, when it’s clear, the sun is harsh and bright. Late afternoon is the most golden I’ve ever seen.
  • I have no idea what dawn looks like. Don’t even ask. Not a morning person.
  • The aurora is magical, but it’s elusive. I was lucky to see it from my guest house one night when it cleared for a few hours and the forecast suggested strong activity.
  • The weather forecast includes an aurora prediction.
  • Aurora season is winter: November- March. If you want to see Northern Lights, you need to come when it’s cold and windy and wet and unpredictable. That’s the tradeoff. It’s worth it.
  • The tundra is a real thing. Not that I disputed it, but it’s far more lifeless and unforgiving –and beautiful– that a Midwestern could have imagined.
  • There are no indigenous trees in Iceland. The trees that grew here are really woody shrubs, no higher than a person’s waist. Evergreens and hardy deciduous trees have been planted by the millions, and are thriving, to secure the tiny bit of topsoil.
  • Almost everyone has a greenhouse on their porch or yard.
  • Iceland grows flowers, berries, tomatoes, greens, peppers, carrots, potatoes and other small vegetables in commercial greenhouses. The tomatoes taste like mine from the garden in August.
  • The water from the tap is HOT. All hot water in Iceland comes directly from the ground, heated by the geothermal activity below our feet. The homes are heated that way too. There is so much hot water that nearly every town has an outdoor heated swimming pool that is open year round.
  • Everything is expensive. Stop grousing about it.
  • Not all tourists behave well. It spans all nationalities. The locals are quite tolerant of them but wish some would stop acting like asses.
  • Icelanders are so kind, they make Canadians look like rude Red Sox fans.
  • This is a land of poets. Literature, history, tradition is referred. I haven’t seen a single television except in a pub. This is a country of literacy.
  • The language is hard, but not insurmountable. Just try.

There is so much more. Iceland tugs at your soul. And now the rain has stopped. It’s unpredictable, too.

Posted in Art, Iceland, Photography, Travel | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment