Found Fabric

My favorite fabrics are the ones I come on unexpectedly at yard sales or inherit from people cleaning out their closets.  I really love it when someone gives me a scrap of something that has been in the family for a while.  I was given some beautiful kimono silk recently by someone who had it for years but never knew what to do with it, only that it was too beautiful to throw away.  The brocade is in excellent shape but the older pieces are beginning to fray a bit.  The painted one is already sewn into a sleeve shape.

Painted silk kimono sleeve

This piece has the design woven into it and is striking for its subtlety.

woven kimono silk

The back-weave on this is a mess — tufted and frayed.  I wonder if someone washed it improperly or if all silk weaves age this way.  If anyone has info to share on how to care for vintage silks, please leave a comment.

The brocade is just lovely.

Brocade kimono silk

I got these silks several months ago, but took them out after a little neighborhood night out Thursday at the Watershed in Hillsdale.  Vendors from the neighborhood set up, there was live music, and a few residents of the Watershed were selling their crafts.  There were a few people selling tools and things they couldn’t see themselves using any more.  I loved seeing the old, hand worn tools of one wood-carver.  Another table was overflowing with beautiful fabrics.  A fabric designer finally giving up her storage unit and letting her fabric stash go.  I have a huge fabric stash and made myself a promise not to even look.  Then I looked but I didn’t buy.  Then I went back and bought.  Sigh.  But I just fell in love with this silk brocade.  It shimmers and one angle the butterflies look vanilla colored and in another golden.  The back is as intriguing as the front.

silk brocade

This fabric is probably no more than 5 years old, but the fact that it has even a brief history adds to its presence.   And I’m almost positive I’ll use it all in some fabulous work of art one day…..

Art Therapy – More Than Either

I was at my friend Amy Henderson’s house for her birthday party on Friday evening. She is the founder of the Geezer Gallery here in a Portland and an advocate of keeping Art in our lives from birth til we leave this planet — and hopefully beyond.  She had this installation on her wall:

Tribute to Judith Scott by Mar Goman

I was both repelled and attracted to it.  On the one hand it looked like embalmed bodies, on the other it looked like figures about to burst forth from a binding cocoon.  I asked Amy about it and she told me it was Portland artist Mar Goman’s tribute to Judith Scott.

Judith Scott was an “outsider” artist who’s story is both tragic and redemptive.  Born with Down Syndrome and deafness, she was separated from her twin sister at age seven and sent to an abusive mental institution.  This is an excerpt from her obituary published in the Chronicle by Rona Marech:

“Ms. Scott, who was deaf and mute, was sent away from her Cincinnati home when she was 7 years old. For 36 years, she lived in a state institution, where she had very little stimulation or means for expressing herself.

Then in 1985, Ms. Scott’s twin sister, who had been too young to understand when her twin disappeared from her life, had a sudden realization at a meditation retreat. She found Ms. Scott and brought her to Berkeley so they could “have the rest of our lives mostly together,” she told The Chronicle in a 2002 interview.

Joyce Scott enrolled her sister at Creative Growth Art Center , an Oakland art organization for people with physical, mental or emotional disabilities.

For almost two years, Ms. Scott showed up regularly at the studio but failed to make a single piece of work other than aimless scribblings. The organization was evaluating whether the studio was the right place for her when Ms. Scott picked up some sticks and yarn one day, said Tom di Maria, the Creative Growth executive director. The staff watched excitedly as Ms. Scott wrapped her first sculpture.

It was nonstop after that, di Maria said Thursday.

Five days a week for 20 years, Scott left her group home in Berkeley and traveled to the studio in Oakland . Often showing up in the colorful scarves and jewelry she loved, she would settle in her corner and set to work, steadily wrapping, weaving, twisting and tying.

She used yarn, cardboard, foam, bits of fabric, wood scraps and a range of objects that caught her eye from an old fan to bike parts, coat hangers, a skateboard, a computer screen. As she worked, often for months on a single piece, the found items would slowly disappear behind layers of colorful tapestry. A documentary film crew from Spain recently had one of her pieces X- rayed to find out just what was inside.”

Her story of art therapy shows a lot about the human need to connect, how outside the confines of language, art can communicate so very much.  When Mar Goman told Amy the story behind the pieces, it gave Amy goosebumps.  And me too, when I saw them. The story within the images is present in them and yet hidden, wrapped up tight, unable to emerge.  It’s very compelling stuff.  No wonder Judith’s odd twisty works resonate with such power.  Even Goman’s interpretation of them brim with life — its complexity, its prisons, its potential for beauty in even the worst of circumstances.

Here’s a link to a website on Judith Scott.

http://www.hidden-worlds.com/judithscott/index.htm

And here’s one to a past exhibition at the 23 Sandy Gallery of Mar Goman.  I couldn’t find a direct website for her, so if you know of one, let me know.

http://www.23sandy.com/goman/catalog.html

And keep looking at art you don’t fully understand.  Ask questions.  The answer may surprise and elevate you.

Susan Leslie Lumsden – Rebel Quilter

I had the honor of being in a show curated by Susan Leslie Lumsden called Roots of Racism.  Her work is vivid and bold and continues to amaze me.

Susan Leslie Lumsden – Rebel Quilter.

Aliza Lelah | Home

Andrea Benson introduced me to this amazing artist’s website.  She’s doing wonderful art with fabric that has a sense of immediacy and nostalgia — she brings out how much cloth figures into the stories of our lives.  She’s out of Denver but I hope to one day see her work live.

Aliza Lelah | Home.