Saint Kewpie, redux

I wasn't happy with the first version of the Street Virgins of Brooklyn make believe library catalog card, so I made a second version.



Street Virgins of Brooklyn 2, faux library catalog card.
Hand embroidery and watercolor.

I'd wanted to capture more of the feel of German artist Katharina Fritsch's sculptures, particularly the collection of figures in the MOMA sculpture from a few years back.

Katharina Fritsch collection, MOMA Sculpture Garden. (Photo from MOMA)

My first attempt was too muddy and soupy, not enough pop of color or unnerving crispness.

Detail, yellow Madonna.

To recap the content of this make believe book... Street Virgins of Brooklyn it is the work of Brooklyn poet and Russian translator Kevin Kinsella. In the volume, Kinsella roams the streets of his Windsor Place neighborhood, communing with the biblical yard statuary he finds in alleys and tiny front gardens.

Saint Kewpie, detail.
Kinsella's hauting haikus are responsible for the rediscovery of a forgotten NYC figure, Saint Kewpie, who was horrifically martyred in a Queens apartment incinerator and canonized during the brief papacy of John Paul I.

Process piece. Yellow Madonna from the back.

As the reworking of this card has taught me, a Kinsella's work is never done.

In a War... again (exhibition)

Back in 2012, I contributed to a collaborative, stitched art project call In a War Someone Has to Die, created by Danish artist Hanne Bang.

Follow the red arrow to my piece. (Photo from H. Bang.)

The project collected handkerchiefs from around the world, all embroidered with the line uttered in a matter-of-fact manner by a soldier-for-hire from Africa, "In a war, someone has to die." (Read more about it here.)

Opening night, Copenhagen. (Photo from H Bang.)

The collection has been exhibited several times, most recently as part of the miniTex14 exhibition at the Rundetaarn in Copenhagen.

I was excited to find my pink, scalloped handkerchief on the wall, embroidered with my mother's beautiful handwriting, in Spanish, her first language.

Hanging the works. (Photo from H. Bang.)

I want to go to Denmark to see the whole exhibition! In the meantime, here is a video about it, with lots of wonderful images.

Biblical Yard Waste

Street Virgins of Brooklyn is a collection of photos and haiku by poet and Russian translator Kevin Kinsella. Kinsella wanders the streets of Windsor Terrace, his Brooklyn neighbor, writing poetry and communing with the biblical garage statues he encounters.

Mold is spreading on the card catalog entry for the make believe book.

Even though the Street Virgins was just released this year, physical copies of the book are mysteriously (some would say miraculously) decomposing at a rapid pace. It's as if the books, presumably safe on the coffee tables and bookshelves of their Brooklyn homes, are suffering the same elemental decay of the plaster yard saints they depict. Pages are buckling and curling. Mold is growing on the spines. A chorus of WTFs rises in Brooklyn.

WIP: Saint Kewpie, who was canonized by Pope John Paul I.

The Vatican was not available for comment.

Biblical yard waste sketches, based on photos by Kinsella.

The most terrifying and yet somehow predictable morning in the Kinsella household occurred a week ago.

Kinsella returned home from walking his daughter to pre school to find a small army of neighborhood Saint Kewpies (who was martyred in a Queens incinerator back in the 1970s and canonized during the 33-day papacy of Pope John Paul I) staring menacingly down on him from his front steps.

WIP: Fighting through the decay.
This library catalog card is also decaying at a faster pace than one would expect.

Progress on my big, speckled forehead

Another 50 x 50 stitch section done! And this one only took me weeks.

Where I am, 9/13/14.

I have several thousand more stitches to go on my Spanish Eyes self portrait. I know what I'm going to do this fall and winter.

Spanish Eyes is based on this original self portrait.

So many more stitches to go. And library books to make up.

Accidental Bestiality (Or, Sexual amnesia and Cold War vixens)

Here is my latest stitched, card catalog card for a made-up book.  It's a 1951, torrid little page turner called "She Roared: True Tales of Accidental Bestiality and the Good Americans Who Lost their Lives."

She Roared. Mixed media and hand embroidery. 2014.

In the late 1940s, there were several unexplained gorings among the god-fearing, traveling men in upstate New York. In Utica, detectives never figured out how Frank Watta throat got ripped out. And the Poughkeepsie police never did locate the rest of Bill Bettlefield's torso.

Until Josef Lupin put the pieces together, so to speak, and recognized the Red Menace.


Detail from She Roared.


Soon, other men (with missing fingers, torn of ears and other scars) came forward and told their stories, in trembling, chain-smoking, tape recorded sessions with Lupin.

Seems a mysterious bevy of gorgeous, Eastern European women were lurking in the back streets and roadside motels of the Catskills and Finger Lakes. Hardworking traveling salesmen shared harrowing tales of seduction and attacks by these silk-clad, hirsute, surprisingly strong Natashas and Oksanas.

What the vixens look like!


Stalin had found his way into the American heartland and Lupin documented it all in the pages of this book. (Published by the gold folks at Gold Medal Books, New York, New York.)

Building my collection of made up books is fun.

"She Roared" joins my other made-up book, "Frayed Shawl in the Blizzard," a slim volume of poems from 1919 by a homicidal, Inuit seal hunter who falls in love with a lady seal and dies on the a frozen sea.

Yes, I realize both titles seem to feature inappropriate congress between humans and animals. Don't worry... I have other interests.

Next up: A title from a list of actual 18th century novels. (Thanks, Rick!)

Perhaps I'll tackle this title: "Flim-Flams! Or, The Life And Errors of My Uncle, And The Amours of My Aunt! With Illustrations And Obscurities, By Messieurs Tag, Rag, And Bobtail. With An Illuminating Index!"

Who can resist the lure of an illuminating index??

Flaming Desire (still)

A few years ago, I was obsessed with stitching hazard signs, both real and imaginary. For some reason, the international warning symbol for “Radiation” was one of the first things I ever embroidered, back in 2010. I still have it in pillow form on my bed, even after all of the changes in my life.

Flammable tank. 2014.

I went on to embroider lots of flammable warning signs and a Do Not Enter sign that currently hangs in my living room. But once I began exploring embroidery on watercolors, I haven’t revisited the wonderful world of hazard signs.

One of my first embroideries, Radiation, in 2010.

These days I’m working on a giant x stitch self portrait of my eyes and doing little else with my limited creative time. But I did make myself this little tank top with an appliqued “Flammable” warning sign. A small, quick project that makes me happy.

Do Not Enter, hand embroider, 2011.

I want to revisit the world of hazard signs. Especially ones that I make up. It’s on my very, very long list of projects.

For now, here is a tune for you...  Bill Nelson’s Flaming Desire, from 1982. I used to love back in the day. It’s what plays in my head when I wear this little tank! My heart is still very full.

Half Mad: Another 50 x 50 Stitches

Now I can see out of one eye, at least.

Another square(ish) completed on my Spanish eyes.


This project is insane. Truly insane. What the hell was I thinking? I know that making art requires sitting still, but I hadn't considered just how much sitting still a 6 x 14.5 inch cross stitch would take.

It measures 6 x 14.5 inches. 14 count Aida. 


As I mentioned before, this is my second cross stitch piece. My first design.

I've been binge watching Girls, spending hours alone, bent over the Aida, trying to recreate my own eyes. Rebuilding them, one pixel at a time, in 34 shades of DMC floss.

The colors of my face are tawny.

I feel half mad. I doubt myself.

Mostly, I stitch alone, at night.


I keep going. Hopeful that this will come together. (I may have other personality problems, but no one can accuse me of having a lack of hope!)

It feel like a metaphor for something larger.

The Mirror of My Right Eye (Coming into Focus)

Last weekend, I drove up to visit my old friend Keefie in the rolling, green Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. I did not bring any painting or watercolor stitching. Instead I dusted off this behemoth.

WIP: Spanish Eyes. My first x-stitch design.


We sat in a cafe -- her knitting, me stitching. It was so nice to get back to my self-portrait x-stitch of my eyes. It's been too long.


Nice to see it coming into focus. But it is huge!

My eyes. They are my high beams, peering out into the world, giving me so much -- as an artist, as a human. My two-way mirrors, into and out from my beautiful life.


Summer Sticks, Take 1

A tiny piece I finished today that I'm calling Summer Sticks.

Summer Sticks. Watercolor, solvent ink
 and pearle cotton hand embroidery, 2014

It's a small watercolor in the saturated hues that are my current obsession. With a little pair of crossed sticks done in solvent black ink.

I do love the colors. The blue pops in a way I couldn't capture in photos.

Much simpler than the Planets of Durham. Fewer colors and layers. I'm happy with it and I'm ready to try it on a bigger scale.

WIP. Plotting layers.

Next up... Something entirely different, made from painted corks.


This aquamarine blue is catching my eye these days!

Planets overboard

I recognized early on that this piece had too much going on. Too many colors, shapes and textures.

Planets of Durham, stitched watercolor, 2014.


But I didn't care, because it was an experiment with trying different techniques.

Detail of textures.


I haven't figured out how to bring the solvent ink shapes into my stitched watercolors. I think it might be able to work with a far simpler background image.

First go around of planets.


Next time I'll keep it quieter.

I experimented with solvent ink hexagons.


But, even if this is an overboard, failed piece, I like it because I was reminded how much I love color and how much I have to be selective with it.

Too much going on, but it was a fun learning process.

Time to get back to playing.

String Box 3 & Red O

I've been trying to be more focused with my work and spend more time making a mess and playing than keeping my apartment perfectly neat.

Detail from String Box 3.


This tiny space is my current studio. I've given myself permission to be a little sloppier in my place.

String Box 3, hand embroidery on watercolor painted watercolor paper.


Finished two pieces this weekend!

In the sun.

First up, String Box 3. A stitched watercolor.



Next up, Red O.

Red O. Solvent ink stencil over acrylic paint.


The stencil is by Cat Manolis, my teacher at ArtSpace Raleigh. I'm loving playing with solvent inks.

Making a happy mess with solvent ink and painter's tape.

Ink is a whole new world to explore!

Saturated (Color and life)

And now.... Scenes from my ongoing obsession with saturated colors.

WIP: String Box 3. Hand embroidery on watercolor paper.

I'm making a String Box stitched watercolor just for me.

WIP: early scene, String Box 3.

Pearle cotton, No 8. Black, blue, pink and yellow,

Painting watercolors in my beloved saturated pinks, reds and yellows.

My recent experiences with my boyfriend and friends in the California desert exposed me to an entirely different color palette.

Joshua Tree National Park in the Mojave Desert.

Hiking to an oasis in the overwhelming heat bleached out my mind and vision. But the rusts, browns and smokey greens were as intense as my saturated pinks and yellows.

The textures, too.

So much to explore visually with these entirely different hues.

And finally, I'm taking a wonderful painting and design class at Artspace in Raleigh for the next several weeks. Artist and designer Cat Manolis is our instructor. She shot this photo and made this stencil of my face for me.

Stencil by Cat Manolis. Painted layers by me.

This stencil will be played with and explored in the coming months. For now, here it is in solvent ink on and layered acrylic background.


Stitch-speration in the sky.
And, for no good reason, except that I'm happy... fireworks!

50 by 50 Stitches on my Spanish eyes

A tiny section complete of my overly ambitious x stitch self portrait of my eyes. Tiny, but still, woot!


First 50 x 50 section completed.


I'm finding it helps to break this piece down into 50 x 50 stitch squares. Otherwise I'll go mad with longing to see it come together.

The long view: One tiny section on the path.

Which is strange. I've always been a "process" maker who loves to plan and slowly build a piece. In the face of a pressure-filled and busy time at my corporate day job, I find myself having a harder time transitioning into the slowed-down process time.

My work kit spread out on my sofa.

This frustrates me. I'm hoping that, by being conscious of this trend, I can be less tortured by it.


PA and PE, 1990. By Peter Alexander at the Getty.

Headed to LA this week. (2014 has been a wonderful travel year so far!) What I'm most excited by? Spending time with the lovely family we're visiting, exploring Joshua Tree National Park and my first ever Dodgers game. And the fascinating LA grid, which is beautifully interpreted by Peter Alexander in PA and PE.

Interpreting these eyes in stitch.
For now, back into the corporate salt mines, I go.

Outside of my normal - a crafty kitty

Last month I was asked to take part in an online experiment for embroidery bloggers. Alyssa Thomas, the designer and owner of Penguin and Fish, sent me a very simple and charming crafty kitty pattern. Although I rarely use patterns or stitch kitties, I loved her injunction to do whatever the hell we wanted to do with the design, so I went for it.

Craft Cat. Hand embroidery on watercolor paper.


Crafty Cat was stitched into a painted watercolor paper background, on top of stitched fish scales. I wrote about the experiment on Mr X Stitch.


I want a cat.


Meow.

Penguin and Fish featured a collection of all of the experiments on their blog. There are some talented stitchers out there, including Nicole Vos van Avezathe and Leigh Bowser. Ch-ch-ch-check it out!

Pixels of Time, Pixels of Stitch

I'm struck by how stitching a cross stitch is like building an image in the form of pixels -- each little x is a point in space grabbed from our vision and transformed into a threaded pixel.

Pixels.

As I get back to work on the self portrait of my eyes, I'm reminded of the beauty in stitching. How it transforms our visual perception of the world by slowing everything down. Each tiny stitch turns our vision into a threaded moment.

Building the image of my eyes, stitch by stitch.

This is true in terms of the time it takes to translate imagery to stitch (the experience of capturing the image by putting the needle into the fabric) and in the tiny physical space of the stitch itself. For example, at burst of light in the contour of my eye socket becomes both a pixel of thread and a pixel of time -- the moment of time it takes to make the stitch.   

Transforming a contour into thread.

I've only worked on one other x stitch -- Frame 11 for Aubrey Longley-Cook's RuStitch animation.

Wild Durham Springtime, 2014.

Very slowly getting back in the a groove with my art practice. Rebuilding it pixel by pixel in the green Springtime.

Stitchsperation Abudanza

Charles Bridge, shapes, Prague.

Rome. Venice. Prague. Three very different cities I recently visited with my mother. At the risk of sounding achingly cliche, I was overcome with an abundance of inspiration for my artwork.

Colusseum, shapes, Rome.

John Lennon Wall, texture, Prague.

Room of Maps, color, composition, layers, Vatican City.

I break down the visual inspiration taken from these photos into three categories: Texture, color, composition.

Under the Charles Bridge, shapes, Prague.

Texture, light, Rome.

Saturated life, Rome.

The colors in Italy are the colors I live in. The ochre, burnt umber, saturated hues.

Composition, colors, saturated life, Venice.

The gothic edges to Prague capture a layer of my disposition. Like dark, lacy lines overlaid on other images.

Texture, shapes, Prague.

Texture, composition, gothic edges to life, Prague.

And everywhere, the textures. And everywhere, watching the bursts caused by the sunlight.

Light, texture, Venice. 

Texture, color, Rome.

What you can't capture in these photos (and there is so much I can't capture) is the feeling of travel. The openness it brings to your imagination if you let it. And I try to always let it.

Composition, detail from Hall of Maps, Vatican City.

Mood, texture, composition, Old Jewish Cementery, Prague.

Composition, mood, carabinieri, Rome.

Especially at home. Must be open to your surroundings. Your world, both of the senses and of your emotions.

Light, color, Venice.


Color, layers, composition, Rome.

I will miss being called "bellissima." I felt like my most unrestricted self.

Colors, Rome.

Everything. Paul Klee at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice.

I felt bellissima.

Tiger Bea(s)t

Rebecca Grecco of Hugs are Fun, my swap partner for the Mr X Stitch Bestiary Swap, made me the most divine new feline friend.

Misha, by Rebecca Grecco, 2014.


I call this colorful x stitch tiger Misha! 

Rebecca has some sick skills with color and stitching. She is a talented pattern designer and warm, creative member of the online stitching community. I'm thrilled to have one of her pieces in my collection. Thank you, Rebecca!

Bamboo pendant by Rebecca Grecco.

I particularly love her kaleidoscopic rainbows and her sleek X stitch pendants. I need to make myself one from one of her kits, which she sells in her etsy shop.

The next few weeks will be quiet for me here. I am roaming, not worrying about being productive. Just taking in the beauty of faraway cities, sketching, and spending time with my sweet mami.

Vacation O, a-hoy.
See you on the flip slip, brutha.

When you miss your man, you do crazy things

How does a stitch artist with nerdish tendencies deal with her man traveling traveling more than 8,000 miles to far away Hong Kong?

Latitude,  chez squeeze.


By stitching him the latitude and longitude of home so he can find his way back. That's how.

Me? I'm headed to Prague next week.

Frabbit of the Fens

Say hello to my little friend.

Detail of Frabbit, 2014. Hand embroidery on layered watercolors.


Frabbit! I made him for Sarah Hennessy as part of the FFFoF Bestiary Swap that I organized for Mr X Stitch.


Frabbit in the sun.


He is a fishy rabbit. Or a rabbity fish. Frabbits have gills and can breath on land. Through the Middle Ages, Frabbits were thought to be mythical creatures, hidden away in the Fens of England.

The only recorded sighting of a frabbit was in 1745, in Lincolnshire, England, at the estate of Lord Lupino.



Based on a drawing from Lady Thomasin in 1745.


No one knows how Lupino managed to capture a male and female pair. The locals whispered about dark arts. What is known is that Lord Lupino's black-eyed daughter, Thomasin, sketched several studies of the furry, scaly beasts, before she mysteriously disappeared, along with the Frabbits, into the Fens.


Frabbit, 2014.


My Frabbit is based on Thomasin's drawings of the male Frabbit. She called him Fabian.


Hennesseflorium Swirlanicus, 2013.  Hand embroidery by
Sarah Hennessey.


Frabbit's new owner, Sarah, is a wonderful, inventive embroidery artist. I remember falling in love with "Hennesseflorium Swirlanicus," her studies of fantasy plants. Her etsy shop is filled with her clean, fresh, swirling designs.
Frabbit of the Fens.



Frabbit is a layered watercolor, stitched piece. Sarah reports that she likes him. I am SO relieved.


WIP: My cross stitched eyes. Slow going and huge.


Next up: More stitching on my giant, cross stitched eyes.

Coming soon: Wait to you see the amazing beast that I received from Rebecca as my part of the swap!