Thoughts for 2015

Chandelier; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2010

A new year is upon us. Some of you are goal-setters or setters of New Year's Resolutions. Here are a few thoughts to consider:

1. Life is messy. The sooner you accept this, the more joyful you will be.

2. Forget happiness. Joy is a better choice and it's an inside job: you cultivate it yourself.

3. Adaptability and resilience are key qualities if you want to thrive and not just survive when life throws you curve balls.

4. Expectation will make you miserable and constantly disappointed. Let go of it and learn to accept "what is" versus "how you think things should be."

5. Perfection is an illusion. Imperfection is real, attainable, and far more interesting.

6. Be open and curious. Ask questions, read widely, seek out new experiences.

7. Look up and around. Walk away from your screens and unplug. Have face-to-face conversations with your friends and family. Play a card game, go for a walk.

8. Learning is life-long. Learn something new in 2015. Teach yourself a new skill or habit. Take a class. Ask a friend or family member to teach you something that you are curious about. Interview your elders while they are still around. You'll be glad you did and you'll learn something.

9. Experiment with a new behaviour. Try it on for a few days, weeks, or months. Make it fun. Document the experience: what works, what doesn't, how you feel.

10. Look for the beauty and humour in all experiences, especially the challenging ones. Life is messy, imperfect, and oblivious to your expectations. It will throw you curve balls when you least expect it. Humour and beauty are always present even during the darkest times.

Quotes: Old Russian Proverb

"If you dwell on the past you will lose the sight of one eye. If you forget the past you lose the sight of both eyes." –– Old Russian Proverb

This quote is especially apt as we prepare for a new year and set goals with the intention of changing our lives. What from our pasts do we wish to leave behind, and what do we wish to carry forward into the future?

Maggie Leininger: Specimen

Specimen by Maggie Leininger (image from a SDA conference brochure)

A few years ago I came upon this image of Maggie Leininger's Specimen in a Surface Design Association conference brochure. This ongoing series, presented in glass-topped aluminum watchmaker's cases, examines molecular microscopic images. I've been thinking about modular art since 2005, and Specimen fit the bill. Inspired, I bought a set of watchmaker's cases and discovered that if you insert a small circular rare-earth magnet between the textile and the tin, you can install the cases on the wall (you have to put a steel nail or screw with a decent sized head into the wall first for the magnet to work). Leininger's website is worth a long look. I especially appreciate her socially-engaged woven artwork, Rhythm, with Snow City Arts. Data visualization is on my radar and, once again, Leininger's Rhythm fits the bill.

Merry Christmas 2014!

Winter barn scene; Photo © Karen Thiessen

I wish you all a blessed 2014 Christmas season!

Quotes: John Cage

"The attitude I take is that everyday life is more interesting than forms of celebration, when we become aware of it. That when is when our intentions go down to zero. Then suddenly you notice that the world is magical." –– John Cage (1912-1992), American composer, author, artist (quote found in Every Day is a Good Day: The Visual Art of John Cage, by John Cage, Jeremy Millar et al., p. 62)

Recently I bought two John Cage books: the aforementioned text, and Where the Heart Beats: John Cage, Buddhism, and the Inner Life of Artists by Kay Larson at City Lights Books while in San Francisco. Since then, I've been engrossed (obsessed) with John Cage's influences, processes, and thinking. Both books are very well written and very readable and I can't put them down. I see several other John Cage books in my near future.

Nui Project embroidery

Nui Project embroidered shirts**

Writing about Dorothy Caldwell's Silent Ice/Deep Patience textiles has made me acutely aware of expressive stitching. As I continue my Lenten Intuitive mark-making practice, I've introduced experimental stitching into the mix. Here are two more images from the Nui project books. I have profound admiration for the Nui project artists.

These images are from Nui Project 2. **The above shirts were embroidered by (Top row left to right): Mikio Hamada; Machiko Yonetoku & Hatsune Doi; Natsumi Yokobaba & Noriko Fukumori; (Bottom row left to right): Mikio Hamada, Machiko Ikeyama & Aki Nozawa; Naoki Fujimura.

Nui Project embroidery detail of Keisuke Nomaguchi's textile

Each of us has our own intelligence. The embroidery of the Nui project artists exemplifies their deep engagement with intuitive stitching, not an easy feat.

Mixed Bag: Pattern, Travel, and John Cage

Tivoli building, Copenhagen; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2013

My husband and I recently returned from San Francisco, where we walked eight hours a day up and down the steep hills, ate delicious dim sum, and perused the numerous independent bookstores. Airports, plane rides and evenings in our hotel room gave me plenty of time in neutral spaces (no computer, no household tasks, no studio, no phone calls) to think and read. Travel is ideal for entertaining new perspectives.

It's that time of year where I think about the big picture and I've been thinking about patterns: both of the flat-pattern repeat and the behavioural/thought varieties. I see some art work on the horizon that will address both varieties, although I don't know how at this point. Being away gave me time to engage in some fuzzy thinking: a starting point for new ventures.

Tivoli building detail, Copenhagen; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2013

At City Lights Books I found five John Cage books and bought two. It was difficult to leave with only two, but it was the beginning of the day and books are heavy to carry up and down hills for hours at a time. My interest in the thinking and work of John Cage has intensified.

The photos of the Tivoli building are from our trip to Copenhagen last year. I love the lacy pattern. 

Quotes: Kinnie Starr

"The purpose of art is to illuminate contradictions."  
–– Kinnie Starr (b. 1970), Canadian Aboriginal singer-songwriter. Source: CBC Radio One Definitely Not the Opera interview, October 23, 2014.

Studio Series: Chortitza oak leaf drawings

Chortitza oak leaves drawing © Karen Thiessen, 2014

My Lenten intuitive mark-making practice continues. I drew these colourful Chortitza oak leaves (Quercus robur) while on the phone with family and friends.

Chortitza oak leaf drawing © Karen Thiessen, 2014

I drew this black-and-white Chortitza oak leaf while sitting in church.

Dorothy Caldwell Silent Ice Deep Patience @ AGP 11

Dorothy Caldwell Walking on Tundra, 2013; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Walking on Tundra is 26"X 53" and is mounted on industrial felt. The acid green is the colour of moss.

Dorothy Caldwell Walking on Tundra, detail 2013; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Fine and chunky stitching on appliqués. A dash of pink provides a complementary contrast to the acid green.

Dorothy Caldwell Quiet Place: Willow & Arctic Moss, 2012; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Quiet Place: Willow & Arctic Moss is another one of my favourites in this exhibition. Maybe one day I'll gather all my favourites in a separate blog post. Quiet Place is 23"X 23" and is mounted on industrial felt. It is a merging of Dorothy's signature wax and silkscreen resist with her new plant dyed textiles.

Dorothy Caldwell Quiet Place: Willow & Arctic Moss, 2012; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

This appliqué appears to be plant dyed.

All photos were taken with permission from Dorothy Caldwell and the fine staff of the Art Gallery of Peterborough.

Quotes: Charles H. Spurgeon

"Your emptiness is but the preparation for your being filled, and your casting down is but the making ready for your lifting up." –– Charles H. Spurgeon (1834-1892), British author and pastor

Dorothy Caldwell Silent Ice Deep Patience @ AGP 10

Dorothy Caldwell Fjord, 2008; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Fjord, How Do We Know It's Night? and Signs are all monumental. Fjord is 8'6" X 8'8" and is the oldest textile in the exhibition.

Dorothy Caldwell Fjord, 2008; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

The details are gorgeous. I especially enjoy the appliqués of older textiles.

Dorothy Caldwell Fjord, 2008; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

As always, the stitching is exquisite.

Dorothy Caldwell Signs, 2014; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Signs is 8'9" X 8'8". I would love to have a close look at the upper details.

Dorothy Caldwell Signs, 2014; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

A discharged appliqué with acid green couched thread.

Dorothy Caldwell Signs, 2014; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Dorothy Caldwell Signs, 2014; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Dorothy brings the back to the front with white couched thread over white silkscreen resist lines.

Dorothy Caldwell Signs, 2014; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Dorothy Caldwell How Do We Know When It's Night?, 2010; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

How Do We Know It's Night is 10' X 9'6" and is the largest and second oldest textile in the exhibition. 

Dorothy Caldwell How Do We Know When It's Night?, 2010; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

 Appliqués border the textile.

Dorothy Caldwell How Do We Know When It's Night?, 2010; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

I counted seven lines (six strands each) of white and off-white embroidery floss.

Dorothy Caldwell How Do We Know When It's Night?, 2010; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Another appliqué of old textiles. 

All photos were taken with permission from Dorothy Caldwell and the fine staff of the Art Gallery of Peterborough.

Studio Series: Zwieback drawings

Zwieback drawings © Karen Thiessen, 2014

I drew these Zwieback as a continuation of my Lenten intuitive mark-making practice. It's been 275 days since I began and I've practiced almost 190 hours. That's an average of 41 minutes per day.

Zwieback

Making Zwieback with mom; Photo credit: Karen Thiessen's husband, 2014

On a recent visit, my mom saw my dried lumpy Zwieback (purchased at a Mennonite Relief sale) on display under a cloche in my dining room. She told me that the person who made it didn't let it rise properly or didn't use enough flour. Mom has super powers like that. I shared my fantasy of having enough Zwieback to fill a cloche. That's when Superwoman decided that she would teach me how to make them the next morning. We dug the recipe out of a Mennonite cookbook and I made copious notes. Mennonite cookbooks are pretty cryptic for the novice. Thank goodness for mom's directions.

My favourite part was the pinching of the dough. To be honest, my mom mixed and kneaded the dough before I was fully functional. She's an extreme morning person. I'm not.

Zwieback rising; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Zwieback is a big deal among Dutch German, a.k.a Russian, Mennonites. It dries nicely and is very light so one can tuck them into pockets and eat them on a long journey while fleeing for your life. Zwieback nourished my grandparents and great-grandparents on their long treks out of Russia, across the Atlantic on the ship Minnedosa to Canada in the 1920s.

Zwieback straight out of the oven; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Clearly my pan wasn't big enough for the Zwieback to double without touching each other.

Zwieback on Oma's cooling rack; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

When my aunt died, I inherited my Oma's baking rack on which thousands of Zwieback, brown bread, and cookies likely cooled. My unMennonite allergies don't allow me to eat Zwieback, but according to my husband they were very, very, very good. I set aside the seven best looking Zwieback and have been drawing them as I continue my Lenten Intuitive mark-making practice. One day I'll share  the images. I'd like to bake Zwieback with my mom again, next time with larger baking pans: I have a cloche to fill.

Quotes: Eva Jessye

"They say you should not suffer through the past. You should be able to wear it like a loose garment, take it off and let it drop." –– Eva Jessye (1895-1992) Internationally renowned American choral conductor (quote found in National Geographic, August 1989, p. 225)