R & D, or, Why I just crocheted an alligator

Warning: long post ahead wherein I talk to myself and invite you to follow me down multiple rabbit holes. 

The muse sometimes strays deep into the weeds, and you’re helpless not to follow. 

For a while now, I’ve been working toward making my tapestries more like objects in themselves, less like pictures. I’ve used collage not just as a design strategy for the imagery, but as a construction and materials approach to my weavings.

WUI 7: gas/oil (detail). Linen, plastic survey marking whiskers, blue grama grass.  17 x 12 x 1.5" framed, including fringe.  2023

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peachtree Boogie Woogie, 20" x 16" mounted.  Cotton, wool, linen, metallic; woven in three collaged pieces.  2021

The idea is for the materials, form and construction of the piece to carry as much or more meaning than the image. 

So.  I’ve been musing a lot on the state of our built and natural environment here in the high desert, recalling that a year ago, what became the largest wildfire in New Mexico history started—the result of a controlled burn that quickly got out of control under extremely windy conditions, thought to be a by-product of climate change.  For six weeks crews battled the fire and on some days we could see the smoke plumes from our driveway. I packed a “go bag” and made an evacuation plan for the first time in my life. 

Some of you may be thinking, Welcome to my world. This is not news to many people.  I have been learning that like millions of Americans in over 70,000 communities, I live in what firefighters call the Wildland-Urban Interface, the WUI, where human habitation butts up against forests, grasslands, and other wildfire prone areas. It’s not just a western phenomenon: there was a devastating wildfire a few years ago in Gatlinburg, Tennessee.

Back to art. So I was playing in my sketchbook recently, sketching shapes that looked like boats run aground on rocks, thinking of the old metaphor of the ship or boat  as a microcosm of the earth and all its people, when it struck me:  instead of making a picture of a boat

. . . why not make an actual boat?  I reflected on how my recent attempt to weave a "tapestry on a box" with wire warps and plastic wefts (possibly a bad choice for a first attempt) was frustrating.  

Wire warp, plastic dry-cleaning bag wefts, golden rain tree pods.  About 3" square

I made some paper-and-tape models of boats and canoes.

I wove a small pulled warp piece in a linen open weave, inserting for good measure some plastic wire survey markers and some grass. It pulled into a shape that looks more like a pod than a boat.  Plus, all those warp ends were a pain to deal with and I ended up just cutting them short.  Hmmm.

And so I was off, down multiple rabbit holes, looking at the work of Ruth Asawa and Norma Minkowitz, taking an online class in weaving with wire with Christine Miller, trying to figure out how to use the skills I have, weaving and possibly crochet, to make a 3D form that can stand up.  I got Kathe Todd-Hooker's book Shaped Tapestry off the shelf and studied how to make a pin loom for shaped weaving. 

Woven canoe in progress on pin loom.  28 gauge wire warp, plastic weft; 10 epi, 7.75" x 5.5".  The twining in the middle was to order and space the warps and eventually came out.  Wire warps are unruly!

 

Completed canoe.  7" L x 2" H x 2.75" W

My favorite bit is the tiny wire mesh hole on the top back side.  My least favorite bit was figuring out how to sew the edges together.  Plastic strips do not like to make construction stitches.  Sewing thread is very thin and slips out.  Further research needed!

I wove the strips below with a 28-gauge wire warp and various fiber and plastic wefts on the Mirrix Saffron.  (Wire is the perfect warp for the Saffron by the way:  no shredding!)

These strips are definitely shape-able and can even stand up!!

Looking at Ruth Asawa's work led me down the rabbit hole of wire crochet.  Her work, it turns out, is often erroneously described as crochet when in fact it's more of a looping technique.  A whole 'nother story.  Anyway, I made this little experiment and liked it but it feels like someone else's technique, not mine.  

 

Meanwhile I dove into the wacky world of amirugumi to learn how to use crochet to construct 3D forms.  Here's the experiment that makes me smile every time I see it:  

We call him the Elongator because I may have forgotten, I mean skipped, checking gauge so he turned out longer than expected.  

 

Next: a wool lobster!

I experimented with wire crochet as a way of making armatures and forms, but crocheting wire is incredibly frustrating for me.  Perhaps the irregularities would disappear with practice; perhaps not.  Where do you draw the line between appealingly casual and spontaneous. . .  and just plain sloppy?  I do have this sort of cool swatch collection though.

All samples use 28 gauge wire.  Clockwise from top left: single crochet (hook D), half-double crochet (hook C), double crochet (hook C).

 

So. . . what's next?  The obvious thing I haven't explored much yet is basket-making.  Basket-makers have been using weaving techniques to make vessels for millenia, duh!  I'd love to figure out how to use my tapestry skills to weave interesting surfaces in 3D forms.  That's the goal.  Stay tuned! 

Have you been doing any R & D lately?  Tell us!

Objects not Pictures . . . or both?

I'm pretty busy lately getting ready to teach a new class here in Santa Fe:  "Collage to Cartoon. . . and Beyond!"  If that sounds familiar, it's because I have taught "Collage to Tapestry Cartoon" a number of times, but this class includes quite a bit of new information and a more in-depth approach.  After creating a bunch of collages with papers we design ourselves, we'll explore techniques including open warps, irregular edges, changeable setts, and using found objects.   The class is offered through the New Mexico Fiber Arts Center (formerly EVFAC) and will take place at Montezuma Lodge in Santa Fe, NM (not Española, NM as originally planned) March 20-22, 2020.  More information and registration can be found HERE.

And because this class is on my mind, this is on my design wall in my studio these days:

 It's a reminder that I want to move my tapestry work more toward being an object than a picture.

(Of course this motto conveniently ignores the fact that one of the series I'm working on right now is pictures of the native grasses and wildflowers in my part of the world.  There is an undeniable magic in weaving recognizable images from the natural world.  So many of us are inspired by nature and want to capture its beauty in our weaving.  Nothing wrong with that at all!)

Sunbelly, Molly Elkind, 2019. 8" x 8" Mixed fibers mounted on painted canvas

Little blue flowers, Molly Elkind, 2019.  24" x 12"  Linen, wool, matted.

Nevertheless.  Perhaps it's the influence of the Objects: Redux exhibit I've seen a few times now here in Santa Fe, a look at contemporary fine craft alongside some of the pieces and makers from the seminal Objects:  USA show of studio craft in 1969.  (I wrote about Objects: Redux HERE).  In this exhibit contemporary craft artists push and stretch the traditional materials and confines of their mediums in challenging and exciting ways.

Perhaps "objects not pictures" is just the natural evolution of my interest in translating the methods and effects of collage into tapestry.  I am increasingly interested in effects like texture and layers and open warps and irregular edges and non-woven elements such as stitch and found objects.

Fold, Molly Elkind, 2020.  7" x 7" Linen, wool. 

Mixed Message, Molly Elkind 2019.  16" x 14"
tapestry with handmade paper, mounted on linen on stretcher bars

Exploring and exploiting these possibilities has been really exciting.  It feels like the resulting pieces, the best of them, are things-in-themselves, objects with their own unique mystery and quiddity (what a great word!).  They are not pictures of something; they are something.  Sheila Hicks' astounding series of 1000 minimes has undoubtedly been a huge inspiration for me, showing the power of the weaver's mind and hands at work, asking questions and experimenting.

Cross Over, Sheila Hicks, 1968.  Wool.  8.25" x 5.5"
from Sheila Hicks Weaving as Metaphor,
ed. Nina Stritzler-Levine (New York:  Bard Graduate Center), 2006

I don't really know where this all will lead.  I'm thinking my next major exploration in this direction will be a woven version of this collage I did a couple years ago.*

Collage, Molly Elkind, 2018. 

I can't wait to see if I can reproduce those irregular edges and make some sort of exciting interpretation of the printed patterns on the paper!  If this sounds like fun to you too, join me in Santa Fe in a couple weeks and we'll see what we discover, using collage to stretch our understanding of tapestry.

*Back story:  I made the collage soon after we moved to New Mexico.  As I looked at it, it felt at odds with the environment I now found myself in.  In fact, my private title for it has been "Peachtree Boogie Woogie",  in a nod to the Mondrian painting evoking the traffic on Broadway in New York City.  My collage seemed to evoke the busy-ness and clamor of the Atlanta we had just left.  So I turned my attention to interpreting our new environment.