Adventures in Paperweaving in Cortez, CO

 It was a whole lotta fun premiering my new Adventures in Paperweaving class at Turquoise Raven Art Gallery in Cortez, CO.   The class was in conjunction with a focused exhibition of my own work in the gallery; scroll to the bottom for images of that.

Ten brave non-weavers and one tapestry weaver signed up to learn how to turn paper with painted or photographed imagery and patterns into skinny slices and then into a new woven surface.   I threw fistfuls of weaving terminology and drafts at them but they plunged in and got well down the road.  Here are some images:

See below for this artist's finished weaving.

 

Sam decided to weave a diamond twill on his very first attempt!

This artist, inspired by my Windblown Grasses piece, chose to weave at random angles.

This artist introduced contrast and texture by weaving in linen thread

This piece reminds me of Monet's garden. 

Different colored wefts are being played with here. The gold strips are quilter's cotton fabric!

A 3/1 twill is the structure here, privileging the image of the warp or vertical strips.

Mary, whose piece in progress is the first image above, was kind enough to share an image of her finished piece.  She chose after weaving a few rows to switch from a 1/3 to a 3/1 twill in order to foreground paper with the photographs of flowers.

Mary Berry, paper weaving

Look like fun?  If you want to give it a go, use the Contact page on my website and I'll add you to the list of attendees for a Zoom class I'll be offering soon:

Saturdays Nov. 16 and Nov. 23, 1:00-3:00 pm ET with optional feedback session Weds. Nov. 20, 6:00-8:00 pm ET. 

$80 for the two Saturday sessions; additional $40 for optional Weds. feedback session.  You don't have to decide about the Wednesday session until after the first class on Nov. 16.  Payment via PayPal or mailed check.

Recording available for 30 days.  Supply list and all details available here.   Contact me with questions and to sign up. 

It's a pleasure to see my work up on the walls at Turquoise Raven through October.  If you're in the area, do stop in, say Hi to Mary and browse the art, gifts, and art supplies.  Gift-giving season is nearly upon us!

From top:  SkyGramaGrass, Air Quality, and Ash Wednesday, all (c) Molly Elkind

Clockwise from top left:  Faraway Nearby, Morning Grasses, SkyGrass, and WUI 10: water.                  All (c) Molly Elkind

Top:  Windblown Grasses.  Bottom:  Ashfall.  Both (c) Molly Elkind

ATA's Beyond: Tapestry Expanded exhibit

There's been some lively discussion in the tapestry world recently around the newest exhibit sponsored by the American Tapestry Alliance, Beyond:  Tapestry Expanded.  It's on view through December 8, 2024 at the Peeler Art Center at DePauw University in Greencastle, Indiana.  Since many of us will likely not find ourselves in Greencastle this fall, ordering the catalog for the show is the best bet for seeing the selected work.  (Allow a few weeks for ATA's dedicated volunteers to respond to all the orders coming in.)  In this post I want to share some of what I found inspiring in the catalog of the exhibit. 

Cover the catalog for Beyond: Tapestry Expanded exhibit

 

The catalog is beautifully produced, with full-color good-sized images of each work.  I spent some very enjoyable hours over the weekend poring over it and reading the essays.  What I saw has inspired me to think of new technical approaches in my own work, and also to sharpen my work's conceptual intent.  Beyond:  Tapestry Expanded is one of  the most exciting textile shows I've looked at in a long time.  I urge everyone with an interest in tapestry and contemporary fiber art to buy a copy.  

Full disclosure:  I was a member of the board that decided to launch this exhibit, back in 2022.  I was in favor of the idea then, and I remain convinced it's a good way to implement the second part of ATA's tagline:  honoring tradition, inspiring innovation. 

Here are a few images that resonated with me, scanned from the catalog, and some thoughts about them. 

Hope Wang, birdsong lanced by the power washer roar, 2023.  hand-painted cotton and wool, 85" x 63"

Of course, given my current obsession with birds, Wang had me at "birdsong."  The blurred color fields at the top, possibly made with an ikat-type technique, suggest the sound waves of birdsong, as the loopy blue lines may indicate birds' flight.  Straight yellow lines on a black field at the bottom remind me of a paved road, which could relate to the "power washer's roar" of the title.   We see the machinery of contemporary urban or suburban life obliterating the sound of birdsong.  The lines in this piece interact in a lively way that feels contemporary:  woven lines don't quite match, the bottom edge is irregular,  loose fringe and threads on the side soften the straight edges.  This piece does what we hope any woven tapestry would do:  it shows how color and woven structure can merge to create imagery impossible by any other means.

Jacobo Alonso, Intercorporeality X, 2023.  laser cut module of recovered X-rays, 300 x 200 x 1 cm

This piece is typical of many in the Beyond exhibit:  it uses unexpected materials that carry much of the  meaning.  At first glance this design recalls southwestern woven rugs, but then we see the title, referring to the body and the inter-relationships of bodies.  We realize the piece is made from x-rays, and this prompts thoughts about imagery, history and cloth as they relate to the human body and to cultural groups.  While the piece is not made of fibrous materials, it drapes as a textile does and references textile patterns and history.

Delaina Doshi, Reconciled, 2023, shards of over 150 broken plates, gold wire, 70" x 55"

This piece, likewise, is not a woven structure, but it hangs like a textile and has a lacy appearance overall.  The strong domestic associations of pastel-colored decorative china also tie it to the feminine, domestic arts associations textiles have historically carried.  This china is broken, though, broken and wired back together with a precious-sounding material.  For me, it prompts thoughts about the breakages, mendings and re-linkings that can occur in families. 

Olivia Valentine, Guestroom at the Drake, left panel, 2012, handwoven bobbin lace, 72" x 111" overall

 

Olivia Valentine, Guestroom at the Drake, right panel, 2012, handwoven bobbin lace, 72" x 111" overall

These two panels are presented side by side in the catalog.  While this is not a structure woven on a loom, bobbin lace is made by crossing and interlacing many individual threads according to a pre-determined pattern.  The artist used considerable skill to mimic the hard planes of architecture in soft, pliable lace.  The typically small, delicate and decorative is rendered here as monumental. The title, and the intriguing choice to leave one window unfinished, bobbins dangling, invites us to invent a narrative about the person or people looking out the windows of a hotel room ("the Drake").  The sheer number of bobbins and the fineness of the lace structure are perhaps an indication of the time and labor involved in constructing any view, or any relationship. 

Bryana Bibbs, Numb, 2023, handwoven cotton, handcarded handspun wool, 72" x 78"

At first glance this is the most tapestry-like of many of the pieces in the exhibit, being made of cellulose yarn in a dense woven structure.  But its wild texture, non-representational imagery, and reference to the intense labor involved in hand-carding, hand-spinning and hand-weaving indicate something deeper may be at play.  The title Numb invites us to speculate what that meaning could be. 

I invite you to order a copy of the Beyond:  Tapestry Expanded catalog and spend some time with it.  These works reveal themselves slowly.  Take time with them.  As you look at the work and read the essays, set aside for the moment traditional definitions of "tapestry" and see if these works can speak to you.  You might ask yourself, Why are these fiber artists breaking the rules?  Why are they using non-fiber materials, intentionally loose techniques, mixing fiber disciplines that have historically been distinct?  Artists make these choices deliberately, to convey specific concepts and emotions.  What you see and feel will no doubt be different from what I see, and that is part of the magic of good art:  it invites multiple interpretations. 

Have you ever had the experience of stumbling on a new-to-you tapestry technique and thinking for one giddy moment, "I just invented something new!"  I remember thinking that when I realized I could weave pick-and-pick in wedge weave.  I soon found out, of course, that it had been done by weavers long before me, who called it "coal-mining."  It behooves all of us to be familiar not only with the work that has been done before us, but also the work being done in the wider fiber context now. 

Feedback Loops and False Deadlines

Today's post is indebted to two comrades-in-art-arms:  husband and fine art photographer Sam Elkind, and good friend and abstract painter Marilyn Kleinhans.  My most frequent and honest conversations about the creative life happen with these two, and I want to share two concepts they shared with me that keep me from going too crazy (sometimes!).  Bear with me as I tell a story.  

Mesilla Door, silver gelatin print.  (c) Sam Elkind

 

Like many, Sam started out in photography in the darkroom, and perfected his process there over many years since he was a teenager.  He loved the look and feel of silver gelatin prints.  As we moved to New Mexico, though, he decided to switch to digital processes, largely because of the perennial water shortage in our area and the need to conserve wherever possible.  Processing film and prints consumes untold gallons of water.  

An unexpected bonus of this switch to digital is a vastly shortened feedback loop for his work.  If you've done darkroom photography, you know the drill.  In the fastest possible scenario, Sam could shoot in the morning, and if he had time he could develop the film in the afternoon.  And then wait overnight for the negatives to dry.  But that was a rare schedule; usually the film waited a week or more to be processed.  Once the film was dry, he would spend hours on his feet printing, a slow process of several steps that also requires drying time to truly judge the print.  The feedback loop--the chance to truly look at and evaluate his work--stretched over days.

In the digital process, Sam can shoot in the morning, and if he is back home with time left in the day, process and print multiple images that same day.  He can make and evaluate his work much more quickly.  And as we all know, digital image software provides many more tools for image development and manipulation than darkroom enlargers did.  His work has expanded and developed much more quickly than it could have in the darkroom process.  Of course this is not to throw shade on anyone doing darkroom work and making prints the old fashioned way--this work has a unique appeal!  

San Antonio Creek, digital image, (c) Sam Elkind

 

Many of us weavers are familiar with the basic problem of the long feedback loop.  One of the tapestry artists in my feedback groups mentioned that as she gets close to finishing the large tapestry she's been working on for over a year, she has learned so much that she wishes she could go back and do things differently at the beginning of the process on this tapestry.  We've all experienced something like that, right?  The feedback loop for large-sized tapestry is loooooong.  

This got me wondering:  How can we shorten our feedback loop as weavers?  I'm sure you can think of a few ways:

Work smaller.  Work at a larger sett with thicker yarns.  Work in a more open, less packed weave.

I have a couple of ideas:  

Join a group of like-minded weavers and trade feedback on a regular basis.  They will see things in your work that are in your own "blind spot" and allow you to address them sooner, if you choose to.  

Seek more opportunities to show your work in public.  Viewers will tell you what they see and this is feedback you can't get any other way.  

Maintain a side practice of smaller tapestry work (sketch tapestry/woodles/minimes/samples) where you can indulge those "what if" ideas while you work on larger pieces (s).  

Try paper weaving!  See my previous two posts to see what I'm talking about.  I am still surprised at how much faster paper weaving goes than tapestry.  I'm able to move through ideas and experiments at a much faster rate, and that's immensely satisfying.  And it's helpful as I create work for the upcoming Studio Tour in September.  I don't have to worry about having enough new work to show this year. 

The Eldorado Studio Tour is a real, hard deadline--it happens this year Sept. 21-22.  I really do have to get a number of tasks done by Sept. 20.  But there are also false deadlines--those perceived deadlines we set for ourselves where we say we absolutely have to get X done by Y date.  Thanks to my sane friend Marilyn, I'm learning to see that most of these false deadlines just create gratuitous stress for me.  If no one outside my studio is expecting me to do X by Y, then it's a false deadline, and I need to just calm the heck down.  It's a skill I'm still building.  

 

Chaos Series: Untitled #3, 16”x20” acrylic on canvas.  (c) Marilyn Kleinhans

Riot of Joy, 5”x7”, pastel and ink on Pastelbord (c) Marilyn Kleinhans

Marilyn went on to expand on this idea in a useful way:   “I’ve found myself creating work for a “theme” with a deadline for submission.  It became the push to fit into someone else’s idea of what I should create, which I think of as a false deadline.    Those have been some of my least successful, and least honest, paintings so I no longer choose to make art with that in mind."  I think Marilyn makes a good point.  This may be fodder for whole 'nother blog post:  the pros and cons of creating work to fit exhibit themes.  Stay tuned for that!

As always, I welcome your comments! 

Woven Collages

My experiments in paper weaving continue.  The more I work in this medium, the more excited I am about the possibilities for interaction between formal woven structures and painted or photographed imagery.  They can reinforce each other, or disrupt each other, or both.  My imagery right now is inspired by the songbirds I observe, both their bright colors and their songs.  How do you convey birdsong visually? 

Dawn Chorus 1.  weaving 7.5" x 11.75"; overall 12" x 15".  watercolor.  (c) Molly Elkind 2024

Collage-ers gotta collage.  I'm really enjoying juxtaposing multitple papers with different patterns in the same weave.  

 

Dawn Chorus 2.  weaving 12" x 23"; 21" x 31".  acrylic, watercolor. (c) Molly Elkind 2024

Dawn Chorus 2, detail.  weaving 12" x 23; overall 21" x 31".  acrylic, watercolor. (c) Molly Elkind 2024

One of the great advantages of weaving structures in paper is that you are not limited by a specific number of shafts on your loom or by the threading or tie-up.  This kind of weaving is basically a pick-up technique so you can vary each pick at will.  

Four Bluebirds.  weaving 15" x 11.5"; overall 19" x 14".  watercolor, spray paint.  (c) Molly Elkind 2024

One path I'm exploring involves weaving an all-white construction in a particular structure, painting it, unweaving it, and then re-weaving it in a different structure.  The painted image is disrupted and fragmented by the white parts of the strips that show in the new weave, lending a flickering, blurred quality to the image.  I suppose it's a rough sort of ikat. 

Four Goldfinches.  weaving 13" x 15.5"; overall 17" x 21".  watercolor, spray paint.  (c) Molly Elkind 2024

Four Goldfinches, detail.  weaving 13" x 15.5"; overall 17" x 21".  watercolor, spray paint.  (c) Molly Elkind 2024

 

After making a number of small-scale weavings, I took the plunge and ordered a new, larger rotary paper cutter that can cut strips up to 28" long with incredible accuracy.  I am enjoying beginning to work larger.  

When completed, this piece will measure approximately 14.5" x 24.5".  That's the Dahle paper cutter on the right, and my "loom" is now a section of cardboard cut from a large box.  Double-stick tape holds down these "warps."

Perhaps only a tapestry weaver would say that this is a fast process.  But since I first started exploring this technique in early April, I've made 12 pieces I consider worthy of framing and adding to my inventory, as well as a number of studies and samples.  It would take me 1-2 years to weave an equivalent number of tapestries.  And the process of paper weaving, while physically taxing if I do it without breaks (which I now know not to do!) at least stresses different muscles and soft tissues than tapestry weaving does.

For me right now, the possibilities of exploiting the interaction of woven structure, image, and materials is so exciting that I'm developing a new class about it.  Stay tuned--and let me know if you’re interested!

PS.  I really appreciated your comments on last month's post about the pieces you liked best.  Please feel free to weigh in on these too! 

Experiments in paper weaving

I am having more dang fun with this paper weaving!  You know how sometimes when you sit down to weave, you get a little ways in and then your brain starts pinging with "what ifs"?  That's what's happening with the paper weaving. I've got scads of little notes-to-self about ideas for projects.  It's early days, and everything is still up for grabs, so I'm not going to say much more, just share some pics of a few favorite samples so far.  If you have a favorite, let me know in the comments!

Papers are mostly 140lb/300gsm watercolor paper.  Inkjet photos are printed on various photo papers.

watercolor, blue grama grass, linen thread

watercolor

watercolor, spray paint, charcoal

watercolor, inkjet

watercolor, inkjet

found print, watercolor, inkjet

inkjet, spray paint

If you're interested in giving this a try, I recommend hunting up Tommye Scanlin's article last year for Handwoven, "Paper Weaving--Intriguing and Inspiring!"  Also take a look at what others are doing on Instagram, #paperweaving.  If you have a copy of the classic Marguerite Porter Davison book, A Handweaver's Pattern Book or Anne Dixon's Handweaver's Pattern Directory, you'll find enough twill patterns to keep you going for a long time. 

Starting Again

 After several months of babying my shoulder so it could heal from tendinitis due to overuse (tap tap tap) . . . I am back at the loom!   I am still figuring out how much studio manual labor is too much (usually I don't know till the next day) but I am learning, slowly.  I don't want my shoulder to become "globally angry" again, in the words of my physical therapist.  Take breaks every 25 minutes, weavers!

I have completed this piece.  

Molly Elkind, Golden Rain.  The piece is placed in a shadowbox with a hinged glass cover, left open here to avoid reflections on the glass.  Pardon the quick-and-dirty photo.

 

It's OK that I have to ration my weaving time, because I have lots of other options in the studio these days.  I am still having fun playing around with watercolors since my class at Ghost Ranch in March.  The book our instructor highly recommended, Watercolor Class by Michael Crespo, has some great exercises and inspiring examples.  I'm having a blast with Daniel Smith's watercolor sticks and this brush:

watercolor study

I don't know where any of this messing about with paint is headed yet, so it feels both thrilling and terrifying. 

I am excited because I finally sat down and made myself start to figure out gauze weave, something I've been meaning to do ever since I learned that Lenore Tawney used gauze weave in her open-weave hangings.  I am looking forward to future experiments with this; in fact I just warped my 16" Mirrix loom to do a tiny gauze weave with grasses.  These books were essential in helping me figure out how to do it:  

    Two-harness Textiles:  The Open-Work Weaves by Harriet Tidball, 1967 (out of print but you might find it online); and 

    Weaving is Creative:  The Weaver-Controlled Weaves by Jean Wilson, 1972 (ditto).

I realized last week that I am circling back around to a theme I explored about 25 years ago when I was in grad school:  birds.  My love of birds and birdsong has been reawakened lately, and I am mildly obsessed with figuring out how to render visually the joy of hearing birdsong, the mystery of birds you can hear but not see in their habitat, and the way the bird and its song is interwoven with the habitat.  I've got a few experiments with paper weaving on this theme underway, with mixed success so far (so no photos).  Looking forward to doing more. 

Here are some photos I unearthed when I looked back through work I did for my thesis show in 2002. At that time I was interested in calling attention to the "gaps in the sky", the birds that no longer exist due to habitat loss and wanton harvesting of their eggs and their feathers for hats.  These images are scans from printed snapshots, so the quality is not as good as I'd like.

 

Molly Elkind, Paper Birds, mixed media, 2001

Molly Elkind, Icon, mixed media, 2006 (after I graduated but still working with the bird theme)

I also discovered that some of the first assignments I did in school bear a startling resemblance in color and composition to work I've done more recently.  I do seem to have some sort of core personal visual language after all, and this is encouraging.  

Molly Elkind, Study in machine embroidery on canvas, c. 1995

Molly Elkind, Study in hand embroidery on canvas, c. 1995

Molly Elkind, SkyGrass, linen, wool, metallic.  2021

Starting over with new media is hard.  It's hard to leave what you know and try new things.  It's scary to risk "failure" by making beginner work and work that doesn't quite hit the mark.  It's hard.  If you too find yourself in this place, have courage.  I do know that some of my best work has been done when I was new with a particular medium and didn't know what I "couldn't" do.  Beginner's mind/beginner's luck can be a beautiful place to be, full of excitement and discovery.  Onward!

Hitting Refresh at Willowtail Springs and Ghost Ranch

The universe conspired to give me two extraordinary opportunities in the space of three weeks recently. 

In March I took a weeklong class for beginners in painting landscapes with watercolors.  This class was taught at Ghost Ranch, possibly my favorite place in the entire world, by accomplished watercolorist Patsy Welch.  Since December, tendinitis in my shoulder had slowed my weaving and indeed all repetitive fiber work to a crawl, so I was desperate to experiment with other media.

As always, Ghost Ranch did not disappoint.  Even in March, New Mexico's windiest and most unpredictable month, it was beautiful.  We had snow and mud and cold; we also had sun and breathtaking displays of changing light across the buff and ochre mesas.  And great clouds!

Patsy insisted that we use only the three primary colors and learn to mix all other colors from there.  We practiced mixing, painting washes and textures and clouds, and we attempted landscapes.  Several students were far from beginners and their work was inspiring and refined.  As for me, well, you can take the weaver out of the studio but you can't take the weaver out of the artist.  I could not get my mind around painting an actual landscape except for tiny studies--where does one start in all that vastness?  Instead I made a collage, an artist's book of the small samples, and most intriguing to me, a tiny woven landscape.  

A week after I returned from Ghost Ranch, I drove to Willowtail Springs, a nature preserve and education center near Mancos, Colorado.  Months ago I'd applied for a one-week artist residency there and been accepted.  It is a beautiful, quiet, wooded spot with the added bonus of a small lake and wonderful waterbirds I don't see or hear at home.  I was the only artist in residence and had the use of the large, well-equipped studio all to myself.  

The lake at Willowtail Springs

The Garden Cottage where I stayed, a short walk from the studio below

The studio at Willowtail.  Look at all those work surfaces!  The windows look out on the lake and I cracked them open so I could hear the birds and the burbling fountain outside as I worked. 

It was heaven.   Hosts Peggy Cloy and Lee Cloy welcomed me warmly, showed me around, and then left me alone to work.   The best part was simply the solitude, time and focus to really concentrate and follow the threads of a number of ideas that had been nudging me for awhile.  It felt like an incredible luxury to be able to move from project to project at different worktables, to sit and read and work in my sketchbook, without having to dash off after an hour to an appointment or some other obligation.  

One path I explored was paper weaving.  Inspired by the work of @liesel.scribbles (Libby Raab) on Instagram, I experimented with weaving twill patterns with printed photos and watercolor paintings.  This was really fun!  I also discovered on IG the amazing paper weaving work of @galengibsoncornell (Galen Gibson-Cornell) and @miguel.arzabe (Miguel Arzabe).  Check them out!

I worked my way through this fantastic new book:  Art from Your Core by Kate Kretz.  She is a professor of art, a painter and fiber artist as well.  She has taught thousands of students, has an active practice as an exhibiting artist, and knows a thing or two (a LOT) about how to find one's way through the dark byways of one's own artistic psyche and in the world of art generally.*  I can't recommend this book highly enough.  It confirmed many things I had discovered on my own over the past three decades, but also provided long lists of questions and exercises to help me think through how my experience informs my voice at this point.   

Another book that was helpful was Steven Aimone's Expressive Drawing.  I had started working through his wonderful, approachable exercises in abstract drawing a couple times before, but this time I got farther along.  I am intrigued by the possibilities of charcoal, of "asserting and obliterating" marks, lines and shapes, and of using charcoal and watercolor together.  I'm looking forward to using these media to develop some of the motifs and themes that surfaced in my working through the Kretz book.  

These are a couple of the quick expressive drawing/paintings I did based on the exercises in the Aimone book.  These are not finished works but merely practice explorations in line, shape, texture and loosening up.  So much fun!

Finally, the icing on the cake was that Rebecca Mezoff and Mary Fuller of Turquoise Raven gallery in Cortez, CO were among those who attending my closing talk.  What fun to renew old connections and make new ones!

The residency at Willowtail couldn't have come at a better time for me.   As regular readers know, for a few years now I've been testing the boundaries of tapestry with mixed media, relief, and small forays into three dimensions.  My muse has been leading me in new directions.  The week at Willowtail has given me confidence that I have many possible ways forward, that whether I am a weaver or not I am forever an artist (though one with a definite bias toward weaving and fibers!).

*One of my favorite bits was Kretz's distinction between the "art world" of museums, auction prices, and high-end commercial galleries, of trendy artists and art-as-investment, a world very few artists inhabit. . . and the "art life," which is what I, and I suspect most of us, lead.  I had gotten these two things confused in my mind and caused myself way too much unnecessary angst.