Showing posts with label Looking and learning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Looking and learning. Show all posts

14 February 2018

Valentine's Day Crafts, or a bunny for your honey

Happy - hoppy? - Valentine's Day.

So, Valentine's Day is approaching and I have leftover red wool yarn. What to do? Make a pom pom of course!

The new toy in my studio is a set of Clover pom pom makers. As you can see the language on the packaging is Japanese and my Japanese is non-existent; however, Youtube is filled with tutorials on making pom poms with this gadget.

Lamb's Pride yarn, Clover pom pom maker set.

Ready to cut yarn.

Sharp scissors needed to cut through all the wraps.

The only tricky bit is tying the pom pom - red yarn is looped around that grove you see in the image above to tie the pom pom strands in place.  Once wrapped around the groove, the two ends of the red yarn are pulled tight as can be and knotted several times.  It is difficult to pull the yarn tight enough to hold all the strands of the pom pom securely in place. I think old reliable waxed dental floss might be the way to go - it doesn't slip during tying, and is virtually unbreakable.  I will try dental floss with my next batch of pom poms, then overwrap with a matching yarn tie.

Two halves of the pom pom maker pulled apart - voila!

The bunny template is from https://mrprintables.com/pom-pom-animals-valentines-cards/ .  This site is affiliated with https://pommaker.com/. Their "donut" pom maker is cute but I found it harder to use than the Clover model. Could just be me. 

I printed the  bunny and bear templates onto card stock, being sure to print in "landscape" mode after enlarging the templates to "100%" in the top menu.

Bunny and bear templates.

Bear and tulips.

03 October 2016

Fiber in the Present Tense 2016 - Surface Design Association annual exhibit

Diane Franklin, Vortex.

Work by Kate Barber, left, and Diane Franklin, center and right, beneath exhibit title.

This year the annual exhibit of the Surface Design Association, Massachusetts and Rhode Island chapter, arrived at a local art nexus, the Arsenal Center for the Arts.  On display from September 7 through November 3, 2016,  Fiber in the Present Tense 2016 featured the work of 26 artists, who dyed, knitted, wove, stitched, and felted their creations.  Some members of my quilt guild also belong to SDA, and I always enjoy their work.

Carol Anne Grotrian, Incoming Tide, Jones River.

Ms. Grotrian is a member of my guild. She hand-dyed the cotton fabric used in the landscape quilt above. Click on the images to enlarge and enjoy this interpretation of the New England coast.

 Incoming Tide, Jones River, detail.

Elin Noble, Excerpts from Fugue 1.

Elin Noble also hand-dyes fabrics, including the small silk piece above.  Silk takes dye beautifully, but wool tints well, too, and can be felted, as in the wearable vest-like garment below, made using a technique called Nuno felting.

Eva Camacho, RUST.

Other wearables included the necklace below, crafted in Joomchi, a traditional Korean hand-made mulberry paper technique. The display mannequin does not show the jewelry to best advantage, but I imagine this circlet would be stunning over a black silk shirt.

Ania Gilmore, Joy at the Meeting.

I have recently had to make many train trips from the Boston area to Penn Station, in New York, and have rediscovered knitting as a way to calm my nerves in the face of Amtrak stress.  The knitter Adrienne Sloane, who teaches at the Arsenal Center, pushes the boundaries of knitting beyond functional, to create works that explore fiber's ability to contain, delimit, and define space.

Adrienne Sloane, Untitled 12" x 12".

Knitting's cousin, crochet, was employed to create the baskets below, one for each of the eighteen years that the son of the artist lived beneath the family roof. The location of this piece, next to the restrooms signs, was unfortunate, but nevertheless the unoccupied space of the vessels is a strong metaphor for the "empty nest."

Michèle Fandel Bonner, Empty Nesting Baskets.

One of my favorite techniques is pleating, whether using paper or fabric, perhaps because, in its basic action, folding is an easily accessible skill.   In the detail below, artist Kate Barber  folded woven pieces into discs, resulting in a fascinating corrugated texture. 

Kate Barber, Collect 2.

Collect 2, detail.

Finally, two works which respond to social and political events.  The abstract American flag form below, stitched from the actual labels of imported clothes, is  a reminder of the loss of  American textile manufacturing  and of the globalization of the garment industry.  

Michèle Fandel Bonner, Outsourced.

The last image portrays, in outline stitching, a young man wearing a hooded sweatshirt, with a field of crosses behind. Who is he?  A young man of color whose life ended much too early.

Priscilla Smith, I Could Have Been Your Son.

25 May 2015

"Roman in the Provinces" life at the edge of empire


Funerary relief of woman, Palmyra, 125 - 150 CE.

The exhibit "Roman in the Provinces: Art on the Periphery of the Empire" is a timely, welcome and fresh look at the material culture of various peoples conquered, in the military sense, but never quite subjugated culturally, by Rome.  In the eastern-most regions of the Roman Empire, today's Syria and Jordan, the emperor was acknowledged in public inscriptions incised not in Latin, but in Greek - the heritage of Alexander the Great's earlier victories.

The woman memorialized in the sculpture shown above is depicted as a proper Roman matron, with the spindle and distaff symbolic of domestic virtue, but her name, Shagal, in carved in Aramaic, the spoken language of ancient Palestine and Judea.  In addition to linguistic traditions, pre-Roman, and, eventually, early Christian rituals, thrived within a framework of Roman governance.

The show, artfully installed in the two floors of the McMullen Museum at Boston College, features a breadth of objects in glass, clay, stone, fiber, and metal.  A special highlight, and the focus of this post, are the more than forty textile fragments, some over 1400 years old, lent by collectors Donald and Barbara Tellalian, and rarely exhibited. One of precious fragments, of a rooster, is featured on the exhibit poster.   A note on dates and materials: dates given are all CE, Christian Era; the textile fragments are made of dyed wool and plain linen.

Left: exhibit poster. Right: Textile fragment with rooster, Egypt, 5-6th cent.

From the exhibit wall text, "Weaving Identities":

While most textiles have perished, a significant number survived in graves in the dry earth of Egypt.  Many date from the fourth to ninth century and are made of linen and dyed wool.  Just as today, in late antiquity textiles were everywhere.  Their principal use was for clothing that in addition to covering the body could also express various identities: gender, age, social status, profession, religion, and cultural and regional affiliations.  In homes, textiles covered cushions and beds and served as curtains and tablecloths.  In churches they were used as altar cloths, chalice covers, and screens.  In pagan temples they were presented as lavish gifts to the gods whose images they sometimes clothed.  Highly valued, textiles often were reused until threadbare.

Commonly produced in the home, textiles were also made in factories in late antique Egypt.  Limits on their cost are set in the price edict of Emperor Diocletian, where they are the most mentioned item.  The demand for textiles throughout the empire and their portability meant that their imagery was widely disseminated.  They bear motifs drawn from the many cultures found within the empire, decorations that also appear in other media like mosaic, glass, stone, ceramic and metal.  Many of these images allow for multiple interpretations depending on the context of their use and their audience.  Grapevines, for example, held significance for both pagans and Christians, though in different ways.
Textile roundel, Egypt 5-6th cent. Photo: Yale University Gallery.

For example, in the textile roundel above we know the central female figure is a deity, because of the nimbus, or halo, around her head, but her exact identity is open to interpretation. She may be Tyche, a Greek goddess whose Roman counterpart, Fortuna, brings prosperity, but, placed in the center of a cruciform shape, she may also represent a Christian saint.

From the wall text we learn that the fragments are, well, fragmentary, because these pieces were cut from larger textiles by dealers who felt only the decorated portions were worthwhile. So it is hard to understand how these little pieces of cloth might have been used in apparel or home furnishings.  A few fortunate survivors show  more of the body of the garments embellished by the roundels and borders.

Fragment of decorated tunic, Egypt, 7-8th cent.

In the image above, the neckline of the tunic featured decorative bands which continue vertically; the vertical bands are clavi (from the same root word as clavicle).  In the image below, a detail of a 3rd century fresco in Sicily, the hunters wear tunics with similar decoration. The roundels near the bottom hem of their tunics are orbiculi.

Mosaic, Villa Romana del Casale. source: http://www.villaromanadelcasale.it/

Tunic, Egypt. 7-9th cent.

The image above is from //www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2012/byzantium-and-islam/blog/topical-essays/posts/fashion and shows a tunic with its clavi and orbiculi intact. This basic t-shaped garment was the everyday wear for men and children; women wore a longer garment called the tunica.

Elaborate tapestry weaving was used to decorate the home too, including the cushions and covers of the stone couches on which upper class citizens reclined during banquets, in good Roman fashion.  Although the figure below is memorialized dressed in Palmyrene priestly attire, he reclines, Roman style, on a couch covered with banded textiles.


Funerary relief with banquet scene, Palmyra, 200-250 CE.


Cushion cover fragment, Egypt 5-6th cent. 

The image above, featuring a dancer surrounded by bowls of fruit, is a cushion cover which, unusually, retains remnants of its fringed loop decoration; it must have been quite a plush item to lean on when new.

Larger fragments give an exciting glimpse of how color was used in these antique textiles. In the piece below the decorated band connects red and black borders. The image is a bit difficult to see but the pattern features a figure with a halo and upraised arms, flanked by pairs of nude figures with shoulder cloaks, and birds. Bacchus? Christian saint? It's a mystery.

Textile fragment with dancers and birds in heraldic pairs, Egypt 8-9th cent.

Some of the textiles are clearly associated with Christianity, such as the roundel below, which shows an ankh, the ancient Egyptian symbol for life, retooled as a Christian cross. The proto-cross is surrounded by a pattern of vines and grapes, suggesting that this fragment decorated an altar cloth used for celebrating the Eucharist, possibly in an Egyptian church.

Textile roundel with interlace, Egypt, 4th cent.

Mosaic, San Vitale, Ravenna. http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:San_Vitale_in_Ravenna_06.jpg

The image above, depicting a mosaic from the Basilica of San Vitale, a church whose construction began in 526 CE, shows an altar with decorative roundels.

On the other hand, some of the textile fragments have an imperial Roman connection, such as the fragment below, featuring an eight-pointed star encircling a tree of life motif, with an outer border of dancers. The purple color, which may be true Tyrian purple, or, in this case, an imitation of that expensive dye, was traditionally only permitted on clothing used by emperors or senators; later the color was also allowed on certain religious garments.




Some of the textiles have retained their colors remarkably well, including the complex band below, sandwiched by rare remnants of plain linen weave.


Textile band with birds and foliage, Egypt, 7th cent.

Textile band, detail.

The exhibit included pre-recorded video demonstrations of glass-blowing and intaglio carving, but revealed little about the process by which these decorative bands were created, one of the few weaknesses of an otherwise stellar exhibit. To be fair, perhaps the process has yet to be researched and described.  It's clear, though, this that embellishment was time-consuming and hence a costly luxury, conveying status on the wearer.

Textile fragment with roundels with dancers, grapevines and lions. Egypt, 5-6th cent.

Detail, showing plain linen and dyed wool.

So, aesthetically, the late antiquity approach to the embellishment of clothing seems to favor attaching decorated bands or roundels to plain linen garments. Perhaps some dyestuffs were too costly to use to color entire garments, or perhaps representational motifs on garments gave the wearer status, or even protection, like a woven amulet. The band in the image above features colored ducks, a symbol of abundance, as well as grapevines surrounding a red fruit, which might well be a pomegranate, symbol of fertility.

The narrow bands as well as the roundels typically incorporate beautiful borders as well as central motifs - a lot of thought was given to the transition from field to edge in the design, and this is found in other objects, large and small, in the exhibit. Just one example is the newly-restored floor mosaic fragment below, from the church of Bishop Paul, in Gerasa (now Jorash, Jordan.)

Mosaic floor fragment, limestone, c. 526 CE.

Border detail, floor mosaic fragment.

For an exhibit on culture at the boundaries of an empire, it seems fitting to end with a craftman's careful attention to another kind of periphery, in a timeless work of art.

There is a catalog, with 15 essays, accompanying the exhibit, ISBN 978 1 892 85022 5.

14 May 2015

Wedding bouquet memory

Happy daughter with floral arrangement.

My daughter wed last year, carrying the colorful bouquet in the image above.  When the newlyweds jaunted off on their honeymoon the floral arrangements came home with us.  It seemed very sad to just discard the flowers after the ceremony, but how to preserve them?  Dried flowers make me expect Miss Havisham to descend the stairs, ruined wedding dress trailing behind. Not a mental picture to conjure up for a happy memory.  

Before....
 
I happened to have a book on digital printing on fabric, borrowed from the library, lying around, and one of the images was a floral wreath. Eureka! I dug out pieces of white fabric and black fabric, carefully dis-assembled the bouquet and laid everything out on a table in the porch. 

Flowers on white.

 First, I tried the blossoms and stems on white fabric. Not so much impact.

...after!

Voila! On black fabric, dynamite!  Since I hadn't planned ahead for this - and the flowers were fading fast - my only option was a piece of black linen from my stash. I would recommend using black velvet for a nicer background.

I photographed the wreath on the black fabric, played a little bit with it in Picasa to even out the tones and got the image printed and framed in a chunky black frame, with no mat (spacers keep the glass off the photo surface.) This is my gift to the couple for their first anniversary next week. Do you think they will like it?

Bridal wreath picture, sitting in my garden.

23 January 2013

Rimpa: Art of Japan at the Met

Top, Plum Tree. Bottom, Hollyhocks. Ogata Kenzan.
Earlier this month family and I viewed two exhibits at the Metropolitan Museum in New York, including a display of Javanese batiks described in my previous blog post. The exhibit featured here is officially titled Designing Nature: the Rimpa Aesthetic in Japanese Art, and it closed January 13, shortly after we visited. More images and information are available in the New York Times review by Holland Cotter.

Mr. Cotter's review is long on names and dates but a bit brief on analysis of the style, saying only that "the style is hard to define." This blogger will rush in where Mr. Cotter feared to tread.

Basically, Rimpa (alternate spelling for google searches is Rinpa) is a design style that evolved when the stability of the Tokugawa shogunate - the first stable government Japan enjoyed after centuries of disruption - enabled Japanese artists the luxury to explore their own home-grown aesthetic and move away from the previously all-pervasive, and somewhat stifling, influence of China. This exploration first crystallized during the Edo period - 1615 to 1868 - with the painting of Ogata Korin (1658-1716.) Rimpa means "the school of Korin," and artists continue to work in this aesthetic today. 

As can be seen in the first image above, of the plum tree and hollyhock painted folding screens, the style is largely 2-dimensional - realistic perspective is eschewed. However, the viewer is drawn into these pictures nevertheless. The images are cropped in such a way that no item is seen in its entirety - rather, we see the top of the hollyhocks and just the trunk and lower branches of the plum tree. This mimics our actual visual field when focusing at subjects at close range, so, despite the absence of a "realistic" approach to perspective, the result is that the viewer is not just looking at the picture, but is in the picture. Thus does Rimpa style seek to elicit an emotional response from the viewer.

Red and White Poppies folding screen, attributed to Tosa Mitsumochi.

One Thousand Grasses,  Kamisaka Sekka.

Another characteristic of the Rimpa aethestic is the free-flowing deployment of natural subjects, especially flowers and trees, in opposition to geometric patterns. Above, bright poppies, in white and intense red, burst helter-skelter over a fence of rigid geometric squares.  Below the poppies screen, in an image from a woodcut-printed book, pink cherry blossoms cascade over a diagonal latticework fenceThe folding screen dates from the early 17th century; the book printed circa 1899-1900; these two items indicate the enduring appeal and continuity of the Rimpa style.

Kimono, mid 19th century. Lower right, pattern book, Furuya Korin, 1907.

The Rimpa aesthetic was not just limited to painting or prints. The kimono above, a masterpiece of embroidery over a stenciled bast fiber fabric, again contrasts a man-made structure - the plank bridge -  with an effulgence of floral bloom, in this case irises. The design references a 10th century literary classic in which a home-sick courtier, viewing a marsh of iris in full bloom, writes a poem of longing. The popularity of the imagery continued into the 20th century, when Furuya Korin produced the sample book for kimono manufacturers interested in fashionable patterns.

Irises at Eight Bridges. Ogata Korin, early 18th cent.
Above is Ogata Korin's treatment of the same subject, a zig-zag bridge of planks wending its way through the marsh. Again, by cropping the bridge - we see neither its end nor its beginning - the viewer is placed on the bridge, surrounded by intense blue blossoms and green stems, rising from a shimmery gold representation of water.
I wear robes with well-worn hems,
Reminding me of my dear wife
I fondly think of always
So as my sojourn stretches on
Ever farther from home,
Sadness fills my thoughts. 
Poem from The Ise Stories, translated by curator John T. Carpenter
Left, writing box. Top right, book, Ikeda Koson. Bottom right, tray, Ogata Kenzan.

Rimpa imagery was transmitted to succeeding generations of the artistic community through pattern books, such as the one above, One Hundred Newly Selected Designs by Korin, published in 1864. These sources of ideas and inspiration were utilized by designers working in a variety of media, including the anonymous lacquerware artist who designed the writing box above.  All the examples above are from the 18th century.


Incense burner, mid 17th century.

The exhibit included many wonderful ceramic pieces, including the incense burner above, decorated with "flowers of the four seasons." On a recent trip to Japan, DH and I toured the incense showroom of Shoyeido in Kyoto, a fascinating experience.

When I was growing up in the States, incense became associated with cannabis users, who thought to conceal their activities by burning stinky joss sticks.  However, travel broadens the mind, and in Japan I learned that burning incense is part of a long-standing religious and cultural tradition, and with this fresh perspective I became a convert to the delights of incense.

Left, Poppies, Suzuki Kitsu. Right, vase, Ando Cloisonne Co, circa 1908-1915.

The Rimpa tradition proved itself very adaptable to a variety of markets, as well.  The mid-19th century painting on the left is the ancestor of the vase on the right, adapted to a Western vessel shape, and made for export to a Western country.

Autumn Maple, Sakai Oho, early 19th cent.

In this final image, the Rimpa painter Sakai Oho used color masterfully, as did all the Rimpa artists, as he placed each delicate, soon-to-drop orange maple leaf in counterpoint to the sturdy, enduring mossy gray-green tree trunk. His composition distills the colors and images of autumn, a season of fugitive beauty.