Columbia artist looking for place on weekends

Added: Donnielle Trice - Date: 15.10.2021 09:21 - Views: 29654 - Clicks: 9014

In this month's South Gallery exhibit, artists Pam Gainor and Hannah Reeves each present a series of works in fiber that explore the meaning and memory that cloth can hold. Quilting as a traditional medium preserves fabrics that have been saved or collected by recombining them. These artists push beyond purely functional sewing, composing with fabrics while reflecting on how each piece of cloth brings a sense of history to the ultimate piece. View the show in person in our South Gallery Tuesday-Saturday PM or view the show online by clicking the button below.

For a long time, I've been drawn to cloth and sewing both part of my upbringing , and I tend to think of how the items of comfort around our homes, like quilts, carry a sense of memory and personality. Historic patterns and prints have often made their way into my work in representational form, but for this series I started to think about how stains bring their own stories. Where patterns are precise, stains are out of our control, and yet equally bring a sense of history.

To make this series, I stained various fabrics such as linen, muslin, organdy, and raw silk with washes of acrylic paint while they were draped and positioned to help the pigment wick and spread. I then composed using these stained pieces, assembling them into basic, traditional quilt formats.

The sewn construction of these pieces directly references nostalgic domesticity, while the pieces of stained fabric more subtly speak to the abstract ways we can mark the passage of time and file away our un-monumental but grounding memories of home. This exhibit is in memory of my father. He was a very kind and quiet man who never spoke of his experiences as a glider pilot in the South Pacific during World War II. All that remains from those years are faded photographs with names scribbled on the backs: Lubbock, Biac, Guadalcanal, Tokyo.

He brought home many kimono to my mother and I played with as . My dad passed on before it ever occurred to me to ask what he did during that time, what he saw, how he felt. Untold Stories were made this year to continue the theme of uncertain remembrances, beauty and destruction. They are made with kimono fabric, eco dyed and rusted fabric, sutures and the occaisonal feather.

Artists and authors were then paired anonymously and at random. Each selected visual artist received a piece of writing and each author, a visual image. The result is a fascinating glimpse into the creative process and a gallery full of penetrating conversations between works and across mediums which transcend the limits of both visual and written communication alone. This show is a must see in person to be able to read the poems or prose with the visual work itself. Interpretations VI - the book - will launch during the week of October 11th!

In some ways, most every piece of art I've made over the last three decades has been about what it's like to be a human in relation to other humans. It's something of an obsession for me, and maybe that's why I love portraiture so much. But ultimately, the face is still a mystery, only hinting at the depth of the living being in front of us.

Archetypes can be a compelling way to speculate on how we're put together differently from one another, and how we're all ultimately the same. When I decided to make paintings representing the twelve s of the zodiac, it seemed like a good structure around archetypes that would provide me with a juicy excuse to paint twelve portraits of people in costumes doing slightly weird things.

What's life without a little fun? But over the course of the twelve, my appetite for costumes diminished, and I became more interested in the quiet humanness contained in every face I encountered. That said, my future as a painter definitely includes more fun with costumes, and also more faces, which are both always silent and never silent. She has lived in Columbia for 14 years, and can be found most mornings and evenings wandering field and forest with her two dogs, collecting weeds, bones, and inspiration for paintings along the way.

Her mother and daughter are both artists, and her paintings have long dealt with the nature of being human in relation to others. Things, occurrences or proceedings which are uncelebrated, unknown or unrecognized. They may be profoundly true to me , of mild interest to you ; sometimes metaphorical, beautiful or humorous.

You decide. I work from life — from both direct observation and experiences. My life has been a rich tapestry of places, people and things, many parts of which remain around me. I usually present my subjects realistically, but with abstract underpinnings. I delight in the particulars of shape, color, light and space as well as in defining a journey for the eye. The objects I paint are either inherited from the group of women who raised or mentored me or part of my own collection of 20 th century funk and function.

The landscape images are views out my windows or other spaces I feel a connection to. This show is dedicated to Lelia Hall, my Boone County grandmother, who valued education and imagination. Much of my girlhood was spent being terrified of the impending cataclysmic 2nd coming of Jesus Christ or fretting about eternal damnation. I learned how to prep and store food long term, how to grind the wheat by hand so that I could nurture my future children during the apocalypse. I spent time with other girls my age learning how to take care of babies, bake, alter skirts so they were more modest or sew a replica of a pioneer bonnet to wear while trekking through a dry Western landscape.

Once a month the girls would have a special meeting with the women in the church. She was always working on a project and teaching others how to do the same. I would watch her toll paint decorations for the holidays, make ceramic statues of Jesus, and make the most delicious meals from the produce she grew in our garden. Every room in our Victorian home was a different vibrant color with hand stenciled embellishments. I was perplexed by the cross-stich hoops, be, half sewn teddy bears, and miraculous of ribbon spools. How would these items fit into my life? We inherited most of the materials used in this show.

I spent hours researching family history and doing genealogy as a youth so that I could perform sacred ordinances in temples for and on behalf of those relatives. Inherited objects have always been very important to me. It would take me a few years of grief before I was able to use these supplies. I finished painting a giant nutcracker, learned to make dollhouses, and taught myself to cross stitch.

I have been exposed to much more rich and wonderful folk art from all over the world and started valuing work I otherwise have thought was too low brow. I realized that in turning away from the church I was also trying to divorce myself from the aesthetic of it and disregard the crafting I had been taught, but that those things were part of what made me who I am now. As I get more time and distance from my faith crisis, the grief of losing my mother or the straining of my relationships with my family members I am better able to separate myself from it all and process the trauma.

My grief is often forefront when I work creatively. Part of that grief is my confusion at being raised in our faith traditions and wondering what she would think of me if she were still here now that I have left those traditions. Much of the work here is coded with symbolism of my inherited faith. As I grew older, I realized that that was a cult tactic to guard some of the more controversial beliefs of our faith. I now realize that I have the right to own my own life experiences.

Everyone depicted in the gallery also inherited these same faith traditions. Our upbringing had various degrees of strict devoutness, but we all rejected it as adults. We all struggle in different ways to reconcile having two halves of ourselves. Having interpersonal struggles with our religious families. Hiding parts of yourself from your past or present acquaintances.

Some of us feel ashamed that we ever believed any of it in the first place. This is about those feelings that many of us have, of having left a faith but being largely shaped by it. We inherited this faith; we did not choose it. The repercussions of it will be felt for a lifetime.

Marrying my past and current selves is complicated. My house is filled with mismatched antique inheritances surrounded by a collection of contemporary art. I am equally drawn to mid-century modern architecture and a nice damask wallpaper. I have come to terms with my life and style being an eclectic fractured accumulation of ideas, aesthetics, beliefs, and time periods. Nick and I have been collaborating for nearly 15 years. Our work has similarly been the marriage of two very different art styles and practices. This is what this show means to me.

It might be something completely different to Nick. Although, we shared a similar rejection of our upbringing, we have divergent feelings about it. We each bring a divergent viewpoint but will be forever tied by our shared story. Much of their initial work was screen printed posters for concerts. They each work primarily on flat surfaces, but their collaborative work now tends to be more sculptural and include elements of installation.

They are married with 2 kids and a rascally dog. He teaches courses in writing, cartooning and videogames. She enjoys working on murals, immersive installation art, mixed media, drawing and painting. This exhibit is a curated collection of photos taken in America and Europe. Nothing like a little bit of instant gratification! Then the day came that I was heading out on a bird-watching expedition. I was hooked. The photos were amazing. The flocks of geese I photographed laying flat on my back or belly-crawling on damp ground convinced me that there was more to photography than family holidays and vacations.

A year later I held my very own 35mm camera. It was a pleasure to jury the snack show! Fortunately, artists provided me with a broad range of media and subject matter. From felting to banjos and handmade paper with blueberries, the artists in the Snack Show create a visual experience for us that ranges from quirky to gorgeous and well crafted.

While some artists focused on the sumptuousness of the snack experience, others explored the more conceptual idea about what a snack can be. I found the variety of interpretation by each artist to be a strength in this group of works.

Tastes, texture, color, tools associated with serving snacks, and even the act of consuming snacks: all aspects of snackdom are represented!

Columbia artist looking for place on weekends

email: [email protected] - phone:(438) 307-2959 x 3084

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