She takes pride in her yarn for the yarn’s sake, without necessarily thinking ahead to what she might make out of it. In fact she often doesn’t like me asking her what she’ll make out of it. That’s not the point. The process of taking fiber to yarn is thrilling enough in and of itself.

She is crafting for a craft, something I only realized last week. The same thing happens in other media as well when a guy thinks about it though. A ceramic artist can make tiles for someone laying tile or creating a mosaic, for instance.

It’s a new thought — I like new thoughts — and I don’t entirely know what to make of yet, but I like having the knowledge regardless.

It’s crafted from hand painted and hand dyed cottons. From Robart’s website:

Much of the inspiration for her work comes from the sunsets seen from
the front deck of the home she shares with her husband, Bill.

Karen’s landscapes combine the arts of painting and textile construction. Each sky is hand painted on either
cotton, silk, silk satin, or rayon; the result is a truly unique piece of cloth. Most of the other features in her
landscapes are pieced using fabrics that have been hand dyed.

Maybe I’ll get one of her smaller works for my birthday (hint hint). Of course, I also still want one of Jane Flanders’ ceramic bones.

The show will be traveling to Hausmann Millworks in San Antonio for a February 19th opening. Below is Betsy Timmer‘s amazing Rag Rug.

I had hopes of finishing at least one sculpture. Hopes were postponed when my brother called to tell me about some wooden boxes at the Salvation Army. The boxes are from a heater company in Central City, Nebraska. I’m assuming these are the scratch and dent models; the Army was given 300 of them and charged customers like me $2 a pop. Can’t buy the lumber for that.

This is a modular storage system — I screwed four boxes together to create 6 2×2 units — for my wife‘s yarn. Some modification was required, although that was fairly easy. Puttying and painting took up most of my weekend. I’m kinda worn out, but I guess that’s what labor does to a guy. The front edges may be redone in the future, and I’ll add backs to them at some point as well, but they function for the time being. I couldn’t just buy the boxes and not work on the project right away though; they took up too much space in the studio.

The white cabinet in the middle I made, mostly from salvaged wood, including the doors, salvaged from a remodel job round-about 2004. Her stash quickly outgrew it.

My wife is all excited this week about a spinning (as in yarn-making) retreat in tiny Harveyville, Kansas, about 45 minutes southeast of Topeka. The host of this retreat is something called The Harveyville Project, which appears to be a two-person operation that includes four buildings: Harveyville Rural High School (1939), Harveyville Grade School (1954), Rural Dist. 5 Eskridge High School (1920), and Eskridge Grade School (1921). From the Project’s website:

Our overriding purpose is to provide an inspiring, energizing environment to foster creative output. Initially, we’ll focus on residents and small workshops and community projects.

Our residence programs range from two weeks to six months and cover living/studio space, utilities, and dinner. Try a short recharge to get past a creative or procrastination bottleneck, or take several months to concentrate on a major project or thesis. By removing your accustomed distractions (shopping, traffic, social commitments, work routine), you can unclutter your mind and focus more directly on your craft. We invite artists, writers, musicians, and craftsmen, both student and professional.

Stellar idea, turning abandoned country schools (likely victims of consolidation) into a retreat for artists. It’s also another potential venue for the faith-based (Christian) art center I have in mind. I’m guessing there aren’t too many vacant school buildings on the prairie, but there are some, apparently.

Screenshot taken from The Harveyville Project’s website.

Previous entries talking about a faith-based art retreat:
Christian art center downtown?
Faith, art and barns
Art, faith, missions and a retreat

I am a handcrafting artist, so I made a list of ‘artsy’ cities, located their media names in Twitter, and began following them one at a time. Almost all of them followed me back. As I read through the tweets, I found business names, mostly shops and boutiques, mentioned in each city, so I started following them.

Since my tweets describe the project I’m working on at that moment, I was able to generate interest and credibility as an artist. This is in addition to the artists I follow on twitter who regularly provide me with creative ideas, venue possibilities, and trade show information. I’ve even been interviewed and showcased on two different sites as a direct result of my Twitter connections. As all these relationships developed, I started adding more city twitters to follow.

So far I have targeted six cities and identified at least two shops in each city as potential new venues for my handcrafted art. This Twitter technique has proved to be a very valuable marketing tool. I have products in two shops right now and I am discussing consignment placements with a few others.

I am really at the tip of the iceberg. The potential for business connections is unlimited.

Anderson uses crochet to create sculptures. My wife has done some of this as well, including the bamboo below which sits on her writing desk.

I have a love-hate relationship with fashion — both practical fashion and runway fashion. Runway fashion is easy for the masses to deride. A lot of it appears to lack almost every practical consideration, and us rabble in the middle classes can’t remotely afford it. It rightly births satire such as Ugly Betty. However, artistically and aesthetically fashion design is worthwhile.

“In tough times, why not express yourself by how you dress — whether you’re doing it from what’s in your closet, what’s in a vintage store [or] what you made yourself?” Singer asks. What a person chooses to wear — or live in, drive in, read or listen to if we expand the discussion — communicates, whether we like it or not. Our wardrobe can say that we value our appearance, or that we don’t. It often identifies us with a certain subculture. For better or worse, it sets us apart as lower, middle or upper class.

And, perhaps, fashion serves as an indicator of an economy. Singer talks a little about “depression era chic” in the interview. A New York Post article elaborates on this idea:

The duds say it all — and it’s depressing.

Taking a cue from the grim economy, this fall’s fashions at Banana Republic, Gap and H&M are featuring a distinctly Depression-era trend of cloche hats, pencil skirts, conductor caps and baggy, vintage-style dresses.

I wouldn’t have expected this kind of a trend from the fashion industry (had I been thinking about it). In other artistic segments, possibly: Painting has historically reflected social hardships; film and photography possess similar track records as I recall. While any observant twenty year old is old enough to realize that styles recur, this years’ shift in clothing design is more intentional than what generally appears to be a more simple ebb and flow to this common observer.

That said, props to the fashion industry for taking a culturally relevant direction. I’m not sure, off-hand, if it’s the right direction; one might worry that mimicking the styles of the depression might result in even more dire attitudes. The flip-side — to create elaborate clothing that defies a cultural climate — could instead instill hope.

Then again, it might also create some kind of complex in us, causing us to believe things are better than they are whereby we spend more than we actually have to spend. This is what Singer seems to refer to as morality. Towards the end of the interview, she states that “Not shopping is not a moral act right now.”

There’s actually no indication of whether she expects us to actually spend more than we have, but in the context of American consumerism the inference is believable. And such reckless spending is more-or-less what landed us in this so-called economic mess in the first place.

Photo from the Retro Radar.

Part of the laziness is a result of a general trend towards more casual attire. Another reason is the distance between our home and anywhere decent to purchase clothes (about 40 minutes). In Lincoln the mall was always 15 minutes away, and even though we aren’t necessarily mall people the opportunities to peruse the sales were abundant.

Also complicating matters is a daily routine that includes time in a garage studio and an office. I usually end up dressed too well for the studio (where I end up ruining clothes before their time) and too casually for the office.

I miss dressing well. Arkansas, even if it’s Fayetteville, just doesn’t seem to present the need for attention to attire. The first time my wife and I went out to a nice restaurant we dressed up — as would have been expected in Nebraska. It was for our anniversary and we put on our good duds to eat at James at the Mill.

We were significantly over-dressed. We understood this restaurant to be one of the nicest, if not the nicest in Northwest Arkansas, but other patrons wore khakis or even jeans.

I’m scrapping a brief post together here from our shopping trip this weekend. I captured this cameraphone photo of a scarf at Kohls.

I’m sure most every other department store is selling one just like it this season. This style caught my eye, though, because my wife is an avid knitter/crocheter. This looks like a lot of the ideas she comes across as a way to use up scraps of yarn. You’ve got short pieces of yarn laying around from past projects, but none are enough by themselves to create a new project from. So you patch something like this together.

I’m amused that this scrapped together idea borrowed from handicraft is being marketed en masse. Why pay $30 for the scarf in a style that’s made to look like it’s something unique when you can ask your grandmother (or wife) to whip one up that’s truly original?

Something like this would take my wife about three hours to crochet, maybe a little more considering the fringe. I suppose there are people out there who don’t know any knitters or crocheters or sewers. I suppose there are people out there who wouldn’t even think of wearing something that they didn’t purchase from a store; they wouldn’t know where to start.

Both scenarios are pretty depressing to me.

The FSNUA aims to re-inspire creative thinking and action in everyday people by removing a small barrier and providing encouragement. We give small, unsecured grants in the form of $10-$60 for creative projects thought up on the spot by everyday people. In the past this has included a merchant marine, two 10 year old girls, a US soldier on leave from Iraq, an accordion player from Alaska, and around 40 others. We funded their new paintings, drawings, knitting, and photojournalism projects, and the repair of one accordion. Projects that may not have happened had they not come across 10 people in the park to support and inspire the thought.

Beyond the small amount of money, the project encourages people to see themselves as something other than workers or consumers even if it just for the length of time required to apply for the FSNUA grant. We also hope to re-inspire dormant desires to create while presenting an example of generosity without an ulterior motive.

I’m pretty fond of the idea, especially the last paragraph’s hope that they are encouraging people to “see themselves as something other than workers or consumers.” Here-here!

A friend forwarded me a link to photographer Magdalena Bors’ website. As much as a photographer she appears to be an installation artist, turning common household objects into miniature landscapes. The following image from her photo-installations is for my knitting wife.

She was born in Antwerp and has a photography degree from Melbourne, but there isn’t much other information about the artist on the website.