Quotes: William Kentridge

"What I sometimes find is that if a drawing is going badly, you are blessed. There is no anxiety about messing it up. It needs to be messed up to be rescued. One either tears it into four pieces and then rearranges them, or erases with a cloth. It is kind of relying on a thinking in the material."

–– William Kentridge (b. 1955), South African artist 

Source: Lisa Kokin, Instagram, March 23, 2023. 

via: Sketchbook 33, 2023, p. 92.

Quotes: Chris Ware

"Drawing is simply another way of seeing, which we don't really do as adults. Children see all the time. Children are always drawing with their eyes. I think that's part of what becoming an artist is, is getting back in touch with that sense of experience and wonder that you have as a kid... [T]he act of drawing is seeing, it's trying to see something, and it puts you into a completely different mental state. It puts you into a state of being in that moment for that specific moment and understanding reality in a way that adults are very, very good at not doing. We spend most of our lives kind of getting out of the way of things, trying to remember stuff, trying to get through the day, certain regrets and problems, mistakes that we made, either an hour before or years before, come back to us. So, we spend much of our time just in this sort of cloud of remembrance and anxiety, but trying to live in that moment is a very difficult accomplishment. I think drawing encourages that more than anything." 

–– Chris Ware (b. 1967), American cartoonist 

Source: Austin Kleon tumblr 

via: Sketchbook A, 2017, p. 41.

Quotes: Cennino Cennini

"Set yourself to practice drawing, drawing only a little each day, so that you may not come to lose your taste for it, or get tired of it. ... Do not fail, say you go on, to draw something every day, for no matter how little it is, it will be well worth while, and will do you a world of good." 

–– Cennino Cennini (c. 1360 – before 1427), Italian painter and writer 

Source: Il Libro Dell'Arte, c. 1435 in Betty Edwards. The New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain. New York: Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, 1999 (first published in 1979); p. 249.

via: Sketchbook 21, 2013, p. 9 

Studio Series: Two inch collages e

Two inch collages e © Karen Thiessen, 2016

Summer is officially here and with it I am experimenting with new rhythms. I'm stitching less and am mark-making and collaging more. I've learned to sit at the patio table on the back deck overlooking the tangled garden and feed my sketchbook. Normally, I enjoy nature by trying to tame my unwieldy garden. Sitting in nature is new to me. The weeds are still there and the daffodil bulbs still need to be divided, but I'm now almost able to ignore them. New rhythms are uncomfortable, but necessary. 

A few weeks ago I realized that I needed a vacation. This perplexed me. Vacations stress me out because they take me away from my work and my daily routine. So, I decided to take a vacation without going away: I am engaging in pattern disruption. One of my goals for this life experiment is to be mildly bored instead of being constantly over-stimulated and over-committed. It's working. It's uncomfortable but it's allowing me to play with smaller projects for which I might ordinarily not make time. If you aren't able to take a vacation this summer, try changing your routine. It might surprise you.

Studio Series: black & white collage II

Black & White collage II © Karen Thiessen, 2016

The studio is a happening place these days: I seem to have cultivated a new rhythm, a new sense of being alive in my work process. It is all thanks to the six weeks of classes that I took at my local indie fabric shop where I learned how to sew a dress, a flowering snowball pillow, and a pair of leggings. These were all personal projects that took time away from my regular studio work, but this investment of time has paid off in spades. First of all, I am now hyper-aware of clothing construction: of seams, lines, darts, shapes. As a result, I now see that my work could eventually move into three-dimensions. Second: I have returned to my stitching and collage practice with new energy and awareness.

I just finished reading The Art of Slow Writing (2014) by Louise DeSalvo, a book I highly recommend for any creative, whether or not you are a writer. In one chapter about supporting the work, she shares how Vita Sackville-West encouraged her friend, Virginia Woolf, to take time from her writing practice. "From Sackville-West, Woolf learned to be less obsessive about her art and to take more time for relaxation, travel, and excursions to enrich her work. She subsequently spent time bowling, doing needlepoint, knitting, bread baking, and listening to music (DeSalvo, 108-109)." So, I encourage my dear work-obsessed readers (you know who you are) to try something new and see how this enlivens the work. 

Source: DeSalvo, Louise. The Art of Slow Writing: Reflections on Time, Craft, and Creativity. New York: St. Martin's Press, 2014.

Studio Series: Chortitza oak leaf silhouette

Chortitza oak leaf silhouette © Karen Thiessen, 2016

Twyla Tharp, via her excellent book The Creative Habit, taught me to dedicate a box or two to each significant project. I have one for each my tags project and an ongoing Mennonite project. The latter box gets more action and is filled to the brim. The other day I was searching for a specific image and after some silent swearing, I found it in another place. There is something to be said for the collision of images in a very full box: It can be great for ideas to emerge unexpectedly. 

That being said, I realized that I needed a categorized repository of images. Deep in my office closet teetering on the top shelf, I found an empty binder and my filing cabinet offered up some empty page protectors and some page dividers. With these previously used office supplies I set to create order. It's still a work in progress, but I'm excited to be able to simply go to the "flora and fauna" section for my drawings of wheat, Chortitza oak leaves, and outlines of doves. For now my images of the Red Gate mingle in the "places" section with outlines of Pelee Island, and copies of Mennonite villages. In time, I may move the Red Gate images to a "structures" section that I hope to fill with images and drawings of windmills and the like. The "words" section is filling up, whereas the "food" section contains one lone drawing of Zwieback. The above image of the Choritza oak leaf silhouette will be filed in the "flora and fauna" section once I've finished writing this post.

Studio Series: calligraphic collage

Calligraphic collage © Karen Thiessen, 2016

My cousin Paula visited over the Christmas holidays. We hadn't seen each other in fifteen years thanks to geographic dysfunction. We're both artists, avid readers of obscure works, lovers of poetry, note-takers. She's four years younger and four inches taller than I. When I took her to my favourite indie art supply store, we were amazed to discover that we were looking for the same Sheaffer ink cartridges for our calligraphy pens. What are the odds of that? Above is a collage of small drawings that I made with the Sheaffer calligraphy pen that I received for Christmas when I was a teenager... and a fresh ink cartridge.

Studio Series: Work In Progress

WIP collage 3'X4' © Karen Thiessen, 2016

This is week two of three weeks of mini-studio retreats. The above 3' X 4' unfinished collage is the largest that I have ever made. I am using papers that I have screen printed as well as found papers. I need to live with it for a while to see where it wants to go. It needs taming, but how I do not yet know.

WIP collage 3'X4' © Karen Thiessen, 2016

Once it is finished, I will hang it on the wall where it is propped. The hall is a busy, narrow space so I collaged on 1/4" plywood and will either hang it with metal mirror clips or I'll screw it to the wall with brass screws.

Studio Series: Mark-making screen print

Mark-making screen print © Karen Thiessen, 2016

My ongoing 2014 Lenten mark-making practice has been good to me. At times it seems to be going nowhere and then bam! I make new discoveries. Early this year I was playing with an old Sheaffer calligraphy pen and some Sakura micron Graphic pens and I was pleased with the line qualities, so I decided to see how they would look screen printed. During my last printmaking class, I took a shine to printing on brown Kraft paper in off-white and pink inks. Now I have a whack of paper to collage with and I am curious to see how I can push the mark-making, screen printing, and collaging. Where will it go next?

Studio Series: Zwieback screen prints

Zwieback screen prints a © Karen Thiessen, 2016

Early this year I set up my ironing table to be a print table. It's only five feet long, so I can only print small runs of textiles. Of my designs that I've printed so far, the Zwieback pattern is my favourite. It's looser and more open than my usual designs. Layering the prints in various colours has been fun. I'm printing on cotton fabrics that I dyed using plant stuffs: black walnut, avocado pits and skins, and honey locust bean pods.

Zwieback screen prints b © Karen Thiessen, 2016

Above is a printed textile in progress. I'm printing with Speedball fabric inks on cotton that was dyed with honey locust bean pods. On its own, the honey locust colour colour is rather bland, but is a nice backdrop to colours like off-white, mocha, and rust. I'm curious to see how the Zwieback prints change once I stitch them into tags or piece them into larger textiles.

Studio Series: Mennonite series tags

Mennonite series tags; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2016

Off and on, I've been playing with words and symbols of my Dutch German (Russian) Mennonite material culture for more than twenty years. Until I discovered the tag format I hadn't been able to pull it together. Above is a random assortment of the strongest tags pinned to my studio wall. I'll present them differently in a gallery setting with proper spacing, probably in a long line and I'll install them with specimen pins.

Mennonite series tags detail; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2016

I have over fifty completed Mennonite material culture tags, but only thirty work well together. The collection now has a voice and an aesthetic has emerged.

Mennonite series detail; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2016

As of this week I have thirty textile tags set up for stitching. The collection is growing. It's about time.

Studio Series: work in progress

Mennonite material culture series in progress © Karen Thiessen, 2015

While I've been moving my Poetic Memory series forward (well over 200 tags are complete!), another series has been almost making itself. Yup, Mennonite elves toil away in the studio when I'm not looking. Well, it seems that way. 

Each body of work that I make has its own rhythm and personality. Some are neat and tidy and emerge on schedule, like a small miracle. One was stubborn and had its own sense of time (the Shadow series). I started playing with making a Mennonite series about fifteen years ago. It wasn't ready. While I was working long hours for my 2013 solo show Unit(y), naturally the Menno series started elbowing its way into my awareness. It's a sneaky beast. 

Above is a random selection of 41 of the Mennonite material culture tags that I've made so far. They aren't optimally arranged or installed. The series needs a better title and I need to triple the amount of work before I have a sense of what it wants to be and where it wants to go. With this series it seems that as long as I'm working on something else, it gets made. 

Of Note

1. Radio interview with Aganetha Dyck: CBC Radio Definitely Not the Opera interview with Governor General's Award-winning Winnipeg-based Canadian artist Aganetha Dyck: Aganetha Dyck collaborates with bees. Aganetha is one of my art heroes. She was the first visual artist of Russian Mennonite descent that I knew of and has been a role model of what is possible. The interview is just under 9 minutes long and in it I learned how she has moved an idea forward out of necessity (a bee allergy) and how her glass dress took twelve seasons to make (durational art).

On the hot afternoon of my grandfather's funeral, I learned that Aganetha Dyck won the Canada Council's Governor General's Award for Visual and Media Arts. News of her well-deserved recognition brought comfort during a difficult day.

2. Durational Art: Peter Jacobs' exhibition at Hunterdon Art Museum in Clinton, New Jersey of a selection of nearly 3700 collages made every morning for ten years from The New York Times, an X-Acto blade, art pad and glue. It all began with a conversation with his wife Elizabeth, a sculptor, about "the importance of discipline, regularity, and relevancy in art-making" on March 31, 2005. Read more about his daily practice on his blog The Collage Journal.

3. A daily practice: Textile artist Helen Terry writes about her daily practice of mark-making in 40 day stints. She begins this challenge in February, 2015, and continues with a second round in March 2015 where she encounters and works through challenges and frustrations. In May, 2015 she writes about round three of her 40-day daily practice. Her marks are beautiful and she is learning a lot from pushing herself through her perceived failures. I'd like to challenge Helen to look at those "experiments that didn't work ... and couldn't be rescued" with fresh eyes to see how she can wreck them to the point that she saves them.

Studio Series: Zwieback & textiles

Studio wall and Zwieback © Karen Thiessen, 2015

The Zwieback drawings are further evidence of my Lent 2014 mark-making practice. I see these becoming a two colour silk screen print in the near future. I'd like to make Zwieback again. My husband thinks that this is a very good idea.

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.

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.

Studio Series: Screen prints 2

Screen print 4 © Karen Thiessen, 2014

In my screen print class I've been testing patterns that I designed while learning Adobe Illustrator. Since there are so many, I've been exposing my screens with two patterns. By the end of ten weeks, I'll have tested eight patterns. I'm only printing papers for the purposes of collage, so I don't need large prints of each pattern. Above is a Zig Zag and Dots duo on a security-patterned envelope.

Screen print 5 © Karen Thiessen, 2014

The same Dots pattern on one of my acrylic ink/Chartpak marker Lent drawings.

Screen print 3 © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Here's a less successful print of a Spiral/Waves duo on a colour copy of a textile that I pieced together from fragments of old kimonos.

I bought a pack of 100 acetates and have been playing with making marks with a variety of materials on them. I'm curious to see how they will translate to prints on paper. 

Dorothy Caldwell Silent Ice Deep Patience @ AGP 5

Dorothy Caldwell Listening for the Bell Bird/Watching for the Brown Snake, 2011;
Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Listening for the Bell Bird/Watching for the Brown Snake is a classic Dorothy Caldwell textile with its black and white wax and silkscreen resist, appliqué, and sensitive stitching.

Dorothy Caldwell Listening for the Bell Bird/Watching for the Brown Snake detail, 2011;
Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

The stitching in this textile is fine.

Dorothy Caldwell Listening for the Bell Bird/Watching for the Brown Snake detail, 2011;
Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Dorothy's use of various black-and-white patterns reminds me of Japanese Boro.

Dorothy Caldwell Listening for the Bell Bird/Watching for the Brown Snake detail, 2011;
Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

From a distance, most of the textiles in this exhibition appear to be quilts, but they are not. 

Dorothy Caldwell Listening for the Bell Bird/Watching for the Brown Snake, 2011; wax & silkscreen resist on cotton with stitching and appliqué; mounted on industrial felt. Estimated size: 36" square (no size listed). 

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

Dorothy Caldwell Silent Ice Deep Patience @ AGP 4

Dorothy Caldwell Flying Over Salt Lakes, 2013; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Flying Over Salt Lakes is the fifth and last of the family-of-five earth ochre textiles. The white ochre on black cloth resembles discharged fabric.

Dorothy Caldwell Flying Over Salt Lakes detail, 2013; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Dorothy combines fine and chunky stitching and couched lines to great effect. The stitching is exuberant, deeply sensitive, and intuitive. 

Dorothy Caldwell Flying Over Salt Lakes detail, 2013; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

The earth ochre textiles are a departure, as they are void of her usual screen-printed marks. They are all about line and texture. Dorothy's calm, quiet presence are embedded in these sensitive textiles. 

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

Dorothy Caldwell Silent Ice Deep Patience @ AGP 3

Dorothy Caldwell, Pink Hill, 2013; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Pink Hill is one of a family of five intimate textiles installed together from Dorothy Caldwell's Silent Ice Deep Patience exhibition at the Art Gallery of Peterborough. Pink Hill, like her fellow earth ochre encrusted sisters, is about 18" X 24" and is mounted on industrial felt. Pink Hill has a subdued colour palette of black, pale yellow and pale pink. The loopy texture reminds me of a chenille bedspread and makes me wonder if the cloth was stitched unstretched versus in a hoop. Dorothy must have strong hands and wrists to pull multiple strands (possibly all six) of embroidery floss through the cotton. 

Dorothy Caldwell, Pink Hill detail, 2013; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

It appears that Pink Hill was stitched after the black cotton was coated with earth ochre. I wonder if Dorothy mordanted the cotton with soy milk (a protein) before coating it with the ochre and if some of the ochre flake off in time. The more that I look at these deeply engaging textiles from the perspective of a maker, the more curious I am about Dorothy's process and materials. The textiles are embedded with well over 40 years of her knowledge and insights as a maker.

Dorothy Caldwell, Human Trace, 2013; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

Human Trace also belongs to the above-mentioned family-of-five. It's amazing that five stitched ochre-encrusted cotton textiles can all look so different. From looking at the images, I sense that each of the textiles were black prior to the stitching and painting. Did Dorothy stitch the cloth before or after adding the ochre? I imagine that ochre-encrusted cloth would be difficult to stitch, especially with such thick threads.

Dorothy Caldwell, Human Trace detail, 2013; Photo © Karen Thiessen, 2014

There's much to be learned from looking slowly and carefully at the work of a master. My admiration for the work is ineffable.

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