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| cloudy day |
Sophie Anne Edwards interviewed me last month at the Art Gallery of Sudbury. To prepare for the interview Sophie sent me questions the day before, and I wrote answers.
During the actual interview, we didn't refer to our notes, and the conversation was quite casual and spontaneous. However, for this blogpost, I am sharing one of the questions Sophie sent me as well as my written answer.
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| Island Heart |
Question: There is a
deep care in your work, in the process, the slowness, the time of a life and
the time of each stitch. I know people realize that fibre/quilting is slow work, but
you work slowly in different ways (in some ways you work quite quickly in terms
of volume). To me this slow stance is a radical resistance: to the pressures of
capitalist logics of productivity and consumption. Your work challenges what we
understand as fine art, and not just because you’re working very finely with a
historically feminine practice, but because your work uplifts and forefronts
what is historically downplayed (the feminine, the domestic); but also because
we are so pressured to work quickly, to be productive in a way that is visible,
consumable, implicated in the circulations of capital. The quilts aren’t easily
consumed – they don’t give the whole story away, we don’t know all of your
thoughts, some text is invisible, or only partially visible, the works are
large, they can’t all be seen in one eyeful, one must walk around and through
them, they aren’t reproducible, and as large works they are often not sold in
the way that other art work is sold.
- Would you speak to how
you move between the art ‘industry’ as a professional artist, and your
commitment to slow, highly detailed work?
Answer
One thing that I want to say is that I studied classical piano as a child. Classical music requires practice, a tedious thing for many people to do and
they quit, but I did the practicing, not always with the greatest
concentration, but I set the timer and I did it. I think that the discipline
of music practice may have made me able to do my slow work today. I still use a timer, although I no longer play the piano. My aim when I was preparing a Mozart sonata
for an exam was to make it sound as if it was easy and that is why I practiced. I
wanted to communicate easily to my listener – and it’s the same with my
quilts. I want my viewers to ‘get’ my
work intuitively and I think that they do because of the amount of time and touch held within the quilts. My heart is there for
them in an open and powerful simplicity. It’s emotional.
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| poet in love |
Giving one’s attention requires one to slow down. Durational time like this requires me to stay with a project long enough to
understand what it is doing and what I am feeling. The viewer also has to slow down. For me, going slowly allows my
intuition more space to guide me through the uncertainty.
It’s important to me that the work is open to change and doubt and the piece is constantly evolving and in the process becomes more true.
Also, working slowly with cloth, touching it as much as I stitch
it, gives me ideas. My imagination has permission and enough space to soar. Thoughts come through the sense of touch.
More ideas than we can understand or process –
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| my heart and eternity |
Maybe what you mean by the art industry is the commercial
art scene of galleries and art fairs.
You know, I think that my work could fit into this just fine, because my work is authentic
and true and beautiful and well made. It’s true that it is not made to ‘sell’, but I think that people do eventually find that it is decorative
and thought provoking enough for their homes. It is not 'normal' though in the commercial gallery system. Quilted textiles are against the
grain. My simple abstract work is not group of 7 type landscape. I like to think it is more like the early
modernists like Paul Klee in the 20’s and Mark Rothko in the 50’s but with feeling.
Textile art in general is marginalized in the fine art world. It’s looked upon as a woman’s art, and even though there are more women artists now there is still resistance to our art. Quilts have an even tougher time of it, perhaps. Sometimes, this does get me down, but most of the time I don’t care. I can't worry about whether my work is written about or collected. What I care about is making it.
I know that quilts are art.
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This is just one of the eight questions Sophie sent me. I can share another one in a future post. In regards to the actual August 23 interview, I hope to be able to share it either by video or audio within the next few weeks.
