Where do the names come from?
“Longevity Banner” for example. This is a new piece (in process with pins!) that developed through many versions and placements of constructed pieces in various combinations. This name and the names of all my pieces come to me from the fabric, from the artwork in process. Does the fabric shout to me? Or whisper? Well, yes, I’ve received instructions in both volumes. Sometimes the loudest shouts say that a combination isn’t alive, isn’t ready, isn’t finished; a clear and simple, “No!” The whispers of assent, confirmation, and delight are more subtle, but also unmistakable, like Archibald MacLeish’s poem: “palpable and mute as a globed fruit; silent as the sleeve-worn stone of casement ledges where the moss has grown.”
Both construction and naming are the results of collaboration, a cooperative imaginative/creative process, a collective drama among friends: me and the colors, shapes, textures, patterns. First comes delight: I am tickled; a precise juxtaposition enchants me, say turquoise and violet. Not just any turquoise or violet, but very particular shades and patterns of turquoise and violet. There are also specific shapes necessary to enhance the construction: triangle, rectangle, skewed polygon. All possible shapes are in play, but mostly shapes without curves. The curves come later when I allow my cardboard patterns free play across some of the constructed fabric pieces. There is nothing quite like a circle for pulling together the deliberate juxtapositions into an image of completion! Often, however, I am not looking for completion, but rather for the dynamic thrust of angles, so my circles, ovals, teardrops, and smooth waves live just a little to the side of the main work table in my studio.
Are all artists compelled by words? Do landscape artists or photographers name each and every one of their artworks? Do they play with phrases that tweak the meaning of the visual experience in different directions? The names are important to me; they are the savory stuffing in the turkey, the muscled flesh on the skeleton, the living breeze among the branches. The names animate the artwork for me. If a small piece—one of my CROPS, for example—is called a “Hug” and another is called “Inspiration,” the two pieces are going out into the world with different purposes and they will hold to those purposes for as long as someone remembers their names. It might be that I am the only one to value the artwork along with the names. So be it. They are “fabricated for delight,” and the delight is all mine!
