Postcards from Paducah, day 30

Have you had the experience of a life mask? Tonight is my first. Secretly I hope that Char Downs has forgotten her request to cast my life mask, because that was almost 30 days ago. She has not. I don't admit to her that I'm claustrophobic, that I'd prefer passing on this opportunity, and I am glad.

This is cool! Char is adept with the plaster strips (remember plaster body casts?), and is prepared with swim cap, vaseline, and towels for comfort and practicality. The casting feels like a spa treatment, or what I imagine a spa treatment to be, and is over within minutes. The Pinecone Studio artist will use the multitude of her castings - friends, family, fellow artists - in a 2015 exhibit. In the meantime, Halloween night is the premier of the second of Char's Phantasmagoria happenings: in the dark, by gallery-goers in masks with flashlights. I will miss it, but I do have a piece in the show and have had a sneak preview.

Earlier in the day, over lunch at Shandies followed by coffee and a cookie at Etcetera, Rosemarie Steele and I conduct an informal exit interview. She comments that I am one of the most low-maintenance artists-in-residence, and that I have provided great marketing of Paducah and the Paducah Arts Alliance via my blog. It's a fair trade for a month's experience in this rivertown, creating and exhibiting art, and interacting with the LowerTown artists. Thank you for the invitation, PAA.

As I leave: should you have the chance for a life mask casting, don't hesitate. It's not claustrophobic after all.

Postcards from Paducah, day 29

Only 2 hours to uninstall today, compared to the 5-hour install last week. Disassemble, roll, pack, and store away until June 2015 when the artwork makes its debut in Greenville, SC. In the interim if you become homesick for my art, the piece "Postcards from Paducah," donated to the Paducah Arts Alliance, will be on display somewhere here in your hometown. Enjoy!

Before I depart Studio Mars, Paul Lorenz gifts me with CDs and a booklet (essentially liner notes) for Line and Sound, The London Recordings and Merida Sessions. Although intended for my musician son, it will first be read and previewed before sharing. In the process of learning more about Paul's foray into music, I find myself signing up for yet another site online: Tumblr. Which is probably the first of several online sites I'll be joining, as I've been taking notes on the use of social media from the October/November issue of Professional Artist.

Following the uninstall, visiting Lily Liu's studio is a welcome outing and, while for a week I've been admiring her creations from the street-side of the window, it is even more rewarding inside. I consider her (and Helene Davis's) transition from ceramics to fiber, hard to soft media, a fascinating one. Lily's background is in clay - porcelain to be exact, although now she creates fiber vessels. Wondrously organic vessels crafted by tying together miniscule fabric-strip-rolls, often thousands of them. You have to see Lily's work to appreciate it fully.

In her studio, when the tabletop wool-combing machine captures my attention, Lily graciously demonstrates the hand-operated device. In part, what has drawn me is its assortment of "pointy things." Forgive me for this phrase as it is one my family uses to describe sharp objects, ranging from cat teeth to wood rasps to, well, now a wood-combing machine. This tool is quite efficient; Lily handles it with proficiency and ease. She then incorporates the combed wool into women's wraparound scarves that she fashions. 

The sun is setting, time to meet the very first artists to participate in Paducah's Artist Relocation Project: Charlotte and Ira (Ike) Erwin of Working Artist studio. Several rooms spill into one another, offering art supplies as well as Charlotte's marbling on fabric and paper, and examples of Ike's bookbinding. Including a ridiculously tiny book-within-a-book that demands me to suspend disbelief in the limitations of bookbinding. Before leaving, I cannot resist a sample of Charlotte's craft, a fabric done in the "feathered nonpareil" style.

I am already homesick for Paducah, but I will be posting to the blog at least one more time upon my arrival in SC. Perhaps once there, I'll begin a blog, "Greetings from Greenville." I like alliteration, can you tell?

Postcards from Paducah, day 28

Unassuming on the exterior, once inside Jefferson Street Studio I am transported to another world. Helene and Bob Davis are the creative forces here; she with hand-dyed fabric and world-class quilts, he with beadmaking. Helene and I stroll into her garden, traverse through her various studios, and converse until I am a cup that is so full it is spilling over.

As we walk past her extensive art library, Helene plucks a favorite book from the top shelf on Irish-born/American-based oil painter Sean Scully. He is an influence, his career-long dialogue with stripes. Now she, too, using her beautifully crafted fabrics in quilts, explores the possibilities of stripes. I believe that I previously met Helene's quilts, in Schweinfurth Memorial Art Center in Auburn, NY. It would have been in their annual Quilts=Arts=Quilts several years ago; an exhibition in which Helene participates regularly. I love it when I am fascinated first with the work, and then with the artist.
I'd like to insert a segue that transitions from the wonderland of Jefferson Street Studio to the balance of my day, but it escapes me. The rest of my day is quiet, the kind of unobtrusive passage of time that usually eludes. It is absolutely this gift of time that is such a boon to my art life during this residency (in addition to a multitude of new friendships). Unfettered, uninterrupted, focused time, that rare commodity. I do not miss television, radio, or the contents of my mailbox. I do miss my family and cat. Ah, but the gift of time for reading art magazines cover to cover, for depositing ink in my sketchbook (although the pages show more art journaling than sketching), for digesting critical feedback on the art installation, for peering into the crystal ball of the future, and for the silence that allows creative nuance to seep inside.

In the evening, I flash back to Helene's cookbooks; the ones she retrieves from the shelf but the recipes of which she does not necessarily implement. The artist finds it pleasurable reading. What more can I say, as this is too cool for words!

Postcards from Paducah, days 26 & 27

Sunday begins with news: an artist loses a daughter, one who is also her mother's muse. Shock, sadness, and a poignant moment in the community. I proceed with my residency, even while all our lives are now touched with grief.

At 1pm, I meet proprietor and ceramic artist Carolyn MacKay, who opens Stornoway Gallery for me while busily unpacking following a day with the art cart. It seems such a hassle, but Carolyn claims there is a rhythm to the process. Yesterday she made a sale via the art cart; the venture a bit more worthwhile.

Monday finds mud poet Michael Terra and logistics manager/spouse Victoria unpacking, having perfected their rhythm over a dozen years. Memphis was their latest destination; Louisiana the next. They are back in Paducah only an hour before I appear on their doorstep; but Michael and Victoria graciously usher me into Terra Cottage for a tour and cup of coffee. I appreciate the playfulness of Michael's relationship to letters and words ("Rtist" is just one in his alphabet cup series), and the professionalism of his craft.

After dark, the couple joins me and Rachel Biel for a private visit to view the installation at Studio Mars. Do check out Rachel's TAFA page (Textile And Fiber Arts is a web-based membership organization showcasing fiber artists and textile businesses). While we sit on the Studio Mars stoop in the tranquil October evening, Rachel draws my attention to paper artist Allison Svoboda on the TAFA site. I Evernote-clip this artist to my growing archive; inspiration at my fingertips.

Before the Terras return to their 1800s home/studio, I solicit their thoughts on my installation, especially the walk-in suspension. Artists always pose such good questions and make intriguing suggestions. "What if you add to the inside of the walk-in, offering a different interior personal experience than the exterior public one?" I'm letting that simmer and brew.

Students also offer thoughtful queries. Earlier in the afternoon, Cody Arnall, Artist-in-Residence at the Paducah School of Art and Design, accompanies his Sculpture I class for a tour of the installation. We talk concept, process, materials. And just prior to their departure - literally a one-block walk to the School - another gallery-goer arrives. Nancy Flowers, owner of Gallery 600, is following her frame shop assistant's directive to check out the "interesting" exhibit at Studio Mars.

And speaking of interesting, here's Michael's and Victoria's cat (actually one of several) dining in a highchair out of a "monstrous" bowl! Insert huge grin here - an actual one, not an emoticon.

Postcards from Paducah, day 25

One month, one-half tank of gas. That's the "easy" part of Paducah living. I set out as a pedestrian again today because it's too gorgeous to remain indoors. Here's a snapshot: an end-prostate-cancer fundraising rally, sunshine on the late Sarah Roush's tiles, the "art carts" setting up in historic downtown, the two remaining available Artist Relocation buildings, and the homes/studios of artists Linda Ogden, and Maureen Ursery. And finishing my piece for Char Downs' "Phantasmagoria" happening.

Let me expound a bit on today's snapshots. According to Zero Cancer, "one in seven American men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer in his lifetime." To learn more about the organization's efforts to "create Generation ZERO - the first generation of men free from prostate cancer," visit their website.

Sarah Roush's tiles brighten the facade of the downtown Paducah School of Art & Design, and a building near MarketHouse. The artist retains a posthumous virtual presence online; everyone I've encountered speaks admirably of her, softly and with sadness. Not having known her, I am merely grateful for her tiles.

The Artist Relocation Program, offers a property at 421 North 5th Street that can be acquired for $1 and an accepted proposal process. My guess is that you'll also need hundreds of thousands of dollars for rehabilitating this abandoned structure, even with the financial incentives and historic tax credits. The Lower Town buildings that have been transformed are noteworthy, as are the new buildings constructed on Artist Relocation lots.

The "art carts" are, indeed, wooden push carts used by local arts/crafts vendors for sharing their wares at the gazebo in downtown Paducah, weather permitting. It appears to be a component of Paducah's UNESCO creative city designation. The carts are wheeled out at Noon; I'm too early...another day.   

If you're looking for real estate in Paducah, I know of another house for sale: the home/studio of sculptor Linda Ogden (pictured), perhaps best known locally for her design/construction of the black granite and bronze Korean War Memorial. She is yet another of the prolific artists in Lower Town. As is Maureen Ursery, part of an informal artist group that exhibits together and dines together monthly. I was fortunate to be included in their gustatory gathering following my installation opening. Good food, interesting conversation.

Did I mention that I'm packing my suitcase with as many memories as possible during this final artist residency week?

Postcards from Paducah, day 24

If you missed the opening of my installation at Studio Mars, you missed the delicious homemade coconut cake with hibiscus sauce. While the cake has disappeared, the artwork remains through Tuesday, but is uninstalled Wednesday. Then it's time to disassemble and pack the suspensions for a return journey to Greenville, SC, where a number of the pieces will reappear in a 2015 exhibit. In fact, the director of Greenville Technical College's Riverworks Gallery just set a mid-June date for my installation. I'll share a "Postcards from Greenville" blog with Paducah when it premieres!

I understand this is a good turnout for a Paducah Arts Alliance exhibit; I count more than three dozen gallery-goers. Some are following this blog, others saw the Paducah Sun article or the Facebook posting, and a few are just walking down the street. The response is positive, and this Artist-in-Residence is encouraged.

What I find interesting is the difference in tactile response to artwork that hangs on the wall versus artwork that dangles from the ceiling. No one touches the cradled wood pieces on the wall. But there is little hesitancy, or none, with the suspended pieces. Admittedly, I am surprised. Although I create the suspensions with durability as one factor, there is a delicacy in my work. Okay, I do intentionally invite attendees into the walk-in piece.

Personally, I find that receptions are the most challenging time to view a show's artwork: eating, socializing, straining to be heard above the crescendo of conversations, bumping (literally) into people, attempting to remember names, red wine's potential to spill on pristine surfaces, chocolate fingertips looming. One young man mentions, as he leaves, that he'll return in the quiet to experience the installation. Agreed.

So, if you would like to see the installation, please give me a call (864-360-8652) to make arrangements. Before Wednesday. Thank you, Paducah! 

Postcards from Paducah, day 23

I'm exhausted, in a good way, following 5 hours of installing my exhibit for tomorrow's opening at Studio Mars. A big thank you to artist and Paducah Arts Alliance-member Paul Lorenz for loaning his beautiful gallery, to Rosemarie Steele for a helping hand and for such excellent communication, to Anita Stamper for reception food, and to all the PAA members. The interview by Laurel Black appears in this morning's Paducah Sun, page 7B; the word is out. It would be great to have a big turnout. The energy is always so juicy.

I meet one person this morning, Betty Martyn, who recognizes my name from the newspaper article. She is a member of PAPA - Paducah Area Painters Alliance - who is gallery sitting their downtown location. We chat, and she shows me her work in watercolor and acrylic. I love the way Betty describes her feelings about each medium: watercolor makes her feel "softer" while acrylic makes her feel "bolder." The work absolutely reflects this. During Betty's show-and-tell, she notices the absence of one of her pieces. Mild panic morphs into elation, as the explanation is chronicled in the PAPA log: "sold." Congratulations, Betty!

The artist residency is a fleeting one. When I first arrive, I hear, "We're so excited that you're here," but now that I am into week four, the question is, "When are you leaving?". Too soon.

This pic is a teaser from my exhibit. It's the interior of "Postcards from Paducah" - the piece where I print my blogs, then shred and insert the strips into a polymer grid. When the light strikes the top, it glows. Come see for yourself.

Postcards from Paducah, day 22

Rubber ducks adorn an ornate concrete fountain, gingko trees line a bank drive-through, and turquoise pods nestle in magenta sepals. Just another day in Paducah, Kentucky. In full disclosure, the rubber ducks are a surprise sighting during tonight's walk; the trees are sought out, following a tip from Judeen; and the botanical specimen is plucked by Anita from a fragrant bush in her garden. It continues to feel magical here.

Today, Pinecone Studio has visitors from "the boats." The American Queen and Queen of the Mississippi dock in the Port of Paducah from May through November. Then a chartered bus delivers sightseers to Lower Town, where they can walk into any gallery sporting an "open" banner. At least a half dozen individuals appear, haling from Louisville to Australia. It's a bit like Second Saturday.

In between these visits, I complete the piece, "Postcards from Paducah." Then it's time to refresh "the little grey cells" - to quote Agatha Christie's character Poirot, which is when and where on my walk, I encounter rubber ducks, gingko leaves, and turquoise pods. There is also a shop offering art, art supplies, and craft workshops. Ephemera is a 50th birthday present owner Kristin Williams bestowed upon herself, and is just across the street from the Paducah School of Art and Design. She features local artists: quilts by Rose Hughes, beads by Bob Davis, and a charming alphabet book on Paducah illustrated by Bill Renzulli, Gay Speirbahn, and Stefanie Graves, to name a few.

Time to consider tomorrow: installation day at Studio Mars. It is always a pleasant surprise to see the individually-created pieces intentionally located together. And so begins an entirely new dialogue. Let the conversation begin!

Postcards from Paducah, days 20 & 21

An artist is both worker and boss. Yesterday, the boss told the worker that "enough is enough." Desiring yet one more piece for Friday's exhibit, I create a collage and spend the day sewing it together. Early in the process I consider discontinuing the effort but press on. You guess correctly: it's disastrous and it's in the trash.

Rather than mourning the loss of time and effort, I acknowledge the inherent lessons: listen to my inner voice, persistence does not always pay off, letting go often does. If every artistic effort results in a successful outcome, where does discovery emerge? If perfectionism is a paramount goal, where does creative joy enter? Let's face it, we more readily share our triumphs than our tragedies.

I finish Monday's studio time ensuring that every monofilament tie-off receives a reinforcement of glue, that every strip of paper is adhered and secure. Tuesday begins with a bit of negotiating at the dry cleaners, but ends with positive energy following collegial visits to Pinecone Studio. Margaret Claus-Gray and Rosemary, (escorted by Lily Liu), were unable to attend last week's Paducah Fiber Artists meeting due to weather, but are in sunny Paducah today. We are all sharing our creations, oohing and aahing.

Then a visit by Judeen, who lives and works around the corner in a building she designed as part of the Artist Relocation Project a decade ago. It's beautiful, and for sale, as are a variety of objets d'art, books, tools, and more. To say Judeen is prolific is an understatement: fiber art, stained glass, and ceramics. She delved into ceramics with a passion, partaking in the senior benefits at the Paducah School of Art & Design - tuition waived. Give her a call (270-444-9525) to set up an appointment, although you are forewarned; you will not leave empty-handed.  

Although the sun has set, I want to extend a special thank you to Char Downs, owner of Pinecone Studio, who is a great listener. Especially as she deals with her own curatorial demands, readying for "Phantasmagoria E," a happening where viewers discover artwork via flashlight in the darkened Studio. Select artists are creating works using one ordinary item from the Old E Hotel, premiering anonymously on - when else? - Halloween. Works are for sale, participating artists are featured in an accompanying book, and the reception is Second Saturday, November 8. I'm working on a creation for this event, but I cannot tell you more...it's a secret for now!

Postcards from Paducah, days 18 &19

Ideal weekend; rapturous sky, sunlit butterfly, Halloween decorations appear in windows, and pumpkins on doorsteps. On Saturday afternoon, three walk-ins (thank you, Victoria, for sending them to Pinecone Studio) visit from Indiana, Missouri, and Florida. At 11pm, Freda Fairchild appears at the studio door, enroute to her own work/live space. We chat about, what else, our current art explorations. I share a few magazines that I've finished - Surface Design, and Fiber Art Now, and then Saturday rolls into Sunday.

I decide to utilize the oval embroidery hoop as an armature for yet another suspended artwork. The intensity of my daily routine reminds me of my college days in 2008-2009, consistently staying up until 1am and 2am. It's burnout mode, but I sense that this is just the kindling for a bonfire of creativity. Ah yes, I can hear my Greenville friend, Alice, asking "why do you want to do an installation?" and, just the other day, a Paducah artist voiced the very same query. My answer: I want to give you an art experience.

Off the wall, out of the frame, moving in the air. Perhaps it's a bit like theater, casting players and directing. Or a concert that has a finite beginning and end, leaving only a memory. I could continue the analogies with dance and poetry, but you get the idea.

So, the latest piece - note the binder clips are serving a temporary function - is quite difficult to convey via photography. The layers are lace curtain outside, negative gingko leaf shapes inside, and several strands of gingko leaves suspended in the center. The gingko leaves are digitally printed with details from my "Edo Influence" collage/cradled wood series. The negative shapes are actually the carrier-sheets for the die-cut gingko leaves. There are over 70 leaves in this piece, with 40 of the 8-1/2x11-inch carrier-sheets sewn together. I like the effect, but you need to see it in person.

All of these numbers remind me of a question Paducah Sun journalist Laurel Black posed: "Do you find the work tedious, or contemplative?" It is both. I wonder if there is an artist who has figured out how to better manage or avoid this necessary step? Other than sending one's work to China. That's a conversation for another time. For now, sleep!

Postcards from Paducah, day 17

It is always good to be interviewed. What I hear is the current conversation in my mind, where in the course of the interview, I also "overhear" some previously unspoken insight, either from myself or the interviewer. Laurel Black of the Paducah Sun leaves the studio with notes on my discourse, responses to questions, and numerous photos that are due to appear in an article in the local newspaper next Thursday. This was a good part of the day.

Then there is the other - not the grocery shopping, by the way. It's the struggle to enclose the top of the walk-in installation piece. It's also what seems like a waste-of-time attempt to move another piece to resolution. Cut, combine, disassemble; all the while knowing that I should walk away from this artistic dialogue that feels more like an argument, or perhaps just a tiff. "Why won't you resolve?" "What do you need?" "I should just discard you!" But I resist the call of the koi pond outside, and try yet one more potential solution for my problem child. While I am in process, I hear voices outside the studio, in the dark.

I think to myself that the comments must be emanating from passersby as they admire the fun park bench in front of Pinecone Studio's window. No, two women are not looking down at the bench but are heads back, eyes wide, and mouths exclamatory. I realize they are viewing my suspended installation pieces. I invite Erica and Monica inside (if the "c" should instead be a "k," I am sure they will understand my misspelling) where it is now 6:30pm. Erica, a Lower Town resident, informs me that she was drawn across North 7th Street to take a closer look. Monica, celebrating her birthday but approaching her parked car, is also curious. Their enthusiasm bubbles out into the studio air and transforms my earlier artistic funk.

I suspend the revamped problem piece, perhaps finally resolved, and decide to venture through the studio door. I need to see what captured Erica's and Monica's attention. My attempts to photograph the nighttime scene are blurry, and my vision will never be the "first time" experience that you enjoy, but here are the pics anyway.

Thank you, Laurel, Erica, and Monica - you made my day.

Postcards from Paducah, days 15 & 16

Indulge me in the mushroom pic; I can't resist the sculptural quality and the fact that it so unassumingly exists near the sidewalk on Jefferson Street in Paducah. It's a quiet discovery that makes this overcast day magical.

The Paducah School of Art & Design, West Kentucky Community and Technical College, casts its own magic. Thanks to Carrie and Gustavo, I am warmly welcomed as I drop in to visit both of the School's locations: Broadway and Madison streets, the former anchors downtown Paducah while the latter anchors the Lower Town Arts District. Pristine, naturally lit and well equipped, the newer Lower Town location boasts studios for ceramics, small metals, sculpture, wood, metal fabrication, and a foundry. Dark but workable, with a set of creaky stairs, the older downtown location currently houses the drawing and painting programs. I say "currently" because the doors to a rehabilitated Lower Town building will open in 2016 - literally across the street from the arts district PSAD - for students pursuing drawing, painting, photography, visual communication and multimedia. 

Here's another part of magical: nontraditional and traditional students work alongside each other and, for those age 65 and older, tuition is waived. I might have to move here.

Yes, I am working in the studio on the walk-in piece...until 2am yesterday. Well, technically, today. Except that it's 1am, so it's actually Thursday. Never mind.

I find that living with work in progress, greeting it daily with fresh eyes, and listening to visitor's reactions is a good recipe for creative brewing. And I have to be honest with you that today I am struggling with the energy of the work. Is it too produced? Is it now missing that "raw" energy so palpable in earlier pieces? Installations are at a scale that require either large elements or a large quantity of elements, that demand engineering and logistical thinking as well as conceptual. Where to find the balance and the truth in the midst of it all?

While I ponder all of this, an invitation to a delicious meal at the home of Bill and Patience Renzulli, amidst their seven (!!) whippets, is such a welcome addition to the day. And when I mention that I plan to visit Paducah again following my artist residency, Bill offers to cook pasta.

Postcards from Paducah, day 14

"Short and sweet" could be the title of today's blog. Basically, I post yesterday's blog this morning, procure more project supplies, and experiment with the large suspended piece. As you can see, part of the process is clipping connected gingko leaves to vertical strips - in this case, what is referred to as "decorative mesh"; all suspended from the metal (wreath) armature. Admittedly, I appreciate the kinetic nature of being an artist: sitting, standing, and even ladder-climbing. Conversely, I exercise patience with the repetitive and sedentary tasks: cutting, connecting, sewing and weaving. Process, process, progress...and finally, product.

Highlight of the day? Well, one is when Jay intuitively walks into the large in-progress suspension. And smiles. Yes! Five years ago when I created a walk-in "kimono," more often than not, I had to invite viewers to enter the interior of the suspended piece. It's permissible. It's intended. It will be interesting to see the response of gallerygoers to this walk-in piece next week at the installation's opening. But if you've read this blog, you'll know that it's a walk-in. Yes!

Postcards from Paducah, day 13

This is gratifying: cutting the 192 x 7-inch paper weaving into seven strips approximately 32 inches in length each, then reassembling the components into a more three-dimensional suspended piece. And it looks less like a snake skin, the most common response upon viewing the mottled tones; even I couldn't get past the association - one I was not purposively trying to achieve. 

I am also beginning the largest installation piece of my residency, a walk-in (potentially) suspension. In the wings is the Postcards from Paducah artwork, an ongoing effort: incorporating strips of printed blog ("Postcards from Paducah") as they are written, published online, and then inserted into the drum-like armature.  Yet one more armature patiently waits its turn before I install the October 24 exhibit here in Paducah. Amidst this experimentation, there is the realization that in less than 18 days I begin the process of disassembling and packing all of these creations for the return trip to Greenville, South Carolina. Yikes! Push that thought into the far corners of my mind and enjoy the moment.

Enjoying the moment is one of Paducah's fortes. On Sunday, over a dozen blocks were cordoned off for Bikes on Broadway - not a race or marathon, but simply a courtesy the town extends its citizens for the pure joy of bicycling to the river sans traffic concerns. This coming weekend, everyone is talking of donning appropriate cultural costumes for the 4th annual Maiden Alley Cinema's Oktoberfest. I have just learned of yet another annual event: Halloween on Jefferson Street, where six residential blocks are, once again, cordoned off for a massive candy giveaway. I understand that in previous years, despite tornado warnings and rain, between 3,000 to 4,000 trick-or-treaters were treated to an extravaganza. So that the homeowners don't have to take out second mortgages, friends and volunteers are recruited to donate the sweet treats, as well as distribute them. See what I mean?

Tonight I am treated to a potluck and show-and-tell at the meeting of the Paducah Fiber Artists group. The massive rainstorm that pummeled the neighborhood earlier is deterring many of the regular attendees. Among the handful of animated members present - sharing stories, book recommendations, career updates, and current projects - are host and quilt artist Rose Hughes, fiber potter Lily Liu, artist Freda Fairchild, curator of the National Quilt Museum Judy Schwender, and owners of Jefferson Street Studios art-quilter Helene Davis and Nerokomi-beadmaker Bob Davis. Lily offers to accompany me on a visit next week to the Jefferson Street Studios. In the meantime, she is working nonstop to meet her goal of 50 handmade scarves for an Oktoberfest booth. Yes, the one this weekend.

It is quite tempting to simply walk, visit artist studios, take in a film or performance or event, watch the seagulls at the river's edge - you know, enjoy the moment - but I must maintain my focus and "visit" the Artist-in-Residence studio so graciously provided me. Sigh. I'll save some of the fun for my return to Paducah.

Postcards from Paducah, day 12

Sunday in Paducah: a stroll with an artist and her dog to the river, quiche at the local coffee shop, several visitors to the studio, a phone conversation with a Rochester, NY-based artist, and the ongoing work. Including separating diecut gingko leaves from their pages. Let me explain. To date, all of my signature templates - such as the gingko leaf and butterfly - are hand-traced and hand-cut, literally hundreds of them. However, in order to utilize thousands (instead of hundreds) of these elements in my installation work, I need to change my strategy.

Over the past month, I've been communicating with Laser Cutting Shapes, an Ohio-based company that accommodates fine art cutting. The day before I head to Paducah for this artist residency, I send a box of 100 pre-coated and preprinted sheets of shoji paper to Laser Cutting Shapes. Ten days following my arrival, I receive a box of 1,000 gingko leaves - approximately 3-1/4 x 4-1/2 inches each. My digits are dancing for joy. One little catch: the 12 leaves per letter-size sheet are attached via eight flashing junctures and require extrication. All 1,000 of them. Still, it beats the handiwork, and there's a bonus as the sheets themselves are now negative leaf silhouettes. All the more to work with.

Oh yes, I locate a few royalty-free photos of the river in my town, Greenville, SC (population 61,000), to share with you. Although the Reedy River was once a commercially viable waterway - as I hear the Tennessee and Ohio rivers referred to - it is recently transformed into a downtown tourist attraction. The Riverworks Gallery, where  in 2015 I'll share the fruits of my installation investigations from this residency, sits on the Reedy River's edge.

Let my clarify: your river town, Paducah, KY (population 25,000), is the setting for the inaugural "sharing of the fruits of my installation investigations from this residency." Do mark the calendar for Friday, October 24, 5-7pm, at Studio Mars. Come, see the gingko leaf, a symbol of longevity, hope, resilience, and peace - sentiments I wish for the residents in both of our river towns.

Postcards from Paducah, day 11

This is a birthday to remember. Bittersweet because it is a first without my Mother, who died less than 2 months ago, and because I am 481 miles from my husband, son, and cat. Bountiful because the artists of Paducah are open-armed, and the art life is pulsing.

I'm driving around the corner this morning and there is Anita Stamper, hostess of the Paducah Arts Alliance dinner last Saturday night. The very same Anita who intuitively baked a coconut cake without knowing I am nutty about coconut. We chat in such a friendly and easy manner that I almost feel like a Paducahan, after only 2 weeks.

Now it's Noon, time to open the Pinecone Studio doors for Second Saturday. Before the close at 5pm, Char Downs and I will welcome over a dozen people, visitors from St. Louis, Atlanta, and down the street. Outside, the air is humid, occasionally wet, overcast and cool. However, at S&M Studios - metalsmith/jeweler Shand Stamper ("S") and ceramist Mitch Kimball ("M") -  the wood-fired soda kiln blazes, providing a toasty and welcomed warmth. I'm invited to circle back to the bonfire tonight, as the firing is anything but a solitary venture; it's a community event. Mitch just might be up after midnight tending to this aspect of his craft.

Bill Renzulli lives and works on the next street parallel to North 7th, where Gallery 5 is also open for Second Saturday. I am particularly drawn to his clay monotypes, a process best described in a website to which Bill refers me. When we begin discussing my work, he promptly posts the "will return by 3:30" sign, locks his door, and proceeds to Pinecone Studio.

 

Back at Pinecone, a relatively new member of the Paducah Arts Alliance, watercolorist Stefanie Graves, drops in, and then invites me and another PAA member, Rosemarie Steele, to her studio a mere block away. You must read the website intro to appreciate her studio's name, Cowango. And I dare you not to smile.

What's not to love about the immediacy and accessibility of the arts in Lower Town?

Time for the opening of "Circles into Snow: Paintings & Watercolors" at Ruth Baggett Gallery 1025, for which a short auto drive is recommended. What a perfect venue for the work of longtime friends and colleagues Ursula Schneider and Ann Provan (website under construction). One gallery room is dedicated to an exhibit of Ann's work on paper and Ursula's on a multilayered substrate she invented; the other room to an installation - Ursula's suspended and Ann's wall mounted. A classical guitarist adds to the ambience of the reception, which is well attended. But Rosemarie and I missed the artists' talks. I make up for this loss by querying both artists, together and individually. We artists want to know everything: process, materials, innovations, concepts, the past, the future. Ann and Ursula are patient, generous.

This might be a good time to wander down to S&M Studios, to see how the firing is going, before the clock strikes midnight, before my official birthday is over. Thank you, Paducah, for a birthday to remember.

Postcards from Paducah, days 9 & 10

Rain is so conducive to staying indoors. Except for a few errands yesterday -  groceries, laundry, I've been in the studio working. I can hear my artist colleague and friend, Terry Jarrard Dimond, speaking of her artist retreat experience: "You won't believe how much time you have." True, Terry, but also I don't believe how quickly the time is dissipating. Simply by being in Paducah, KY, by the artwork being created and viewed in a new context, a fresh dialogue has begun.

Sometimes the fresh dialogue arrives in old snippets I have dispensed to others, such as "less is more." For example, the dictionary-weave suspension hung in the studio overnight but is greeted this morning by the glint of scissor blades. Snip the cable ties and rearrange; discard ill-fitting elements, cut and carve the remains until the cocoon I envisioned now rotates before my eyes. "Less is more" applies to my art, too.

Artists often work on several pieces simultaneously, such as Terry's spouse, Tom Dimond. I rarely do, which I attribute to the need for resolution before moving on, and also because each piece informs the next - technically and symbolically. Once the dictionary-weave piece resolves, I move on. First I construct a drum-like armature of metal and polymer grid, cable-tied together, then I find that my first thought is: weave. Thanks to Paducah artist/Paducah Arts Alliance president, Freda Fairchild, I now possess a shredder that spits out 1/4-inch paper strips. Weave is what I usually do. What don't I usually do? What else can I do? Let's try this: insert the strips. Hmmm. It's textural, has different ergonomic demands than weaving, and - whoa! - there is a three-dimensional explosion on the armature's interior.

Ah yes, another labor intensive piece of art to create; all because I like the effect, am excited about the potential, and it resonates. It is suspended high enough to view the interior, that wild three-dimensional explosion, although you'll have to bend over a tiny bit. If I suspend it any higher, you'll miss the up-close-and-personal textural beauty on the exterior. A visitor to the studio today just had to touch it. That's a good sign: it's irresistible. Tomorrow will be interesting as it's Second Saturday from Noon to 5pm, where at least a half dozen Lower Town studios will be open to the public. Let's see if it's still irresistible then, too.

The strips are shredded digital prints of my blog, Postcards from Paducah, so it has an immediate hometown connection. Yes, this blog. Which reminds me; I need to print this edition and then plug in the shredder. Thank you, all of my supportive and wonderful artist friends (and all my supportive and wonderful family and friends). You're irresistible.

Postcards from Paducah, day 8

Let's begin with clarifications:
1) The link to the Artists U site for downloading Andrew Simonet's book, "Making Your Life as an Artist: a Guide to Building a Balanced, Sustainable Artistic Life," in yesterday's blog, is not behaving; use this link.
2) Naively, in discussing river commerce, I referred to a towboat as a "tugboat"; thanks to Char Downs' husband Jay Downs Siska, a teacher with the Seamen's Church Institute, I stand corrected.

Now, about today. Deep breath. I am taking several as I recover (especially my index finger) from xacto-editing my dictionary weavings. I daringly trim while ensuring that the cuts don't compromise the structural integrity of the strips. Tedious, labor-intensive, and exhausting but the resultant effect makes it worthwhile, opening new portals of visibility. Yes, I promise a photo later.

When it is time for a sanity break, I take my hour walk-about, always being drawn to the water. Although, honestly, I only need open the back door at Pinecone B&B here in Paducah, Kentucky, to hear the gurgle of flowing water and catch the beauty of a koi pond. Greenville, SC, artist Tami Cardnella specializes in capturing koi. It's a popular subject; one commercial website displays "2,180 koi paintings for sale." I'm overwhelmed, but not with my firsthand experience of the pond outside the door.

Speaking of koi and of dictionaries: growing up in the household of my family-of-origin, dinnertime was constantly interrupted by my bursts of curiosity. I'd dash off to procure the dictionary or encyclopedia, in between bites, to sate my desire for knowledge. It's a standing family joke. Laugh if you will, siblings, but I am still curious and am now deconstructing dictionaries to create art. Thanks to the internet, I have a dictionary and an encyclopedia just a few finger taps away. So, of course, today I begin researching koi but end up reading about Japanese aesthetics, including the concept of yūgen. Yügen is profound grace and subtlety. Ooh, I like this. Among the concepts in my previous series of work are wabi-sabi, ethereality, and layering. In considering an underlying element in all of these concepts, in how I express these concepts in my work, I do believe that yügen is present. Profound grace and subtlety. Yes, I really like this.

Postcards from Paducah, day 7

If it weren't for the wind exacerbating whatever allergens are present, I'd be enjoying my afternoon walk all the more. The truth is that I need a break from "xacto editing" previous installation elements that I plan to use in my Paducah exhibit. The elements are woven strips of a deconstructed 1966 dictionary, ones that I created 5 years ago but continue to serve each new site-specific venue as if they were born yesterday. It could be said that I'm stealing from myself. 

Okay, here's the scoop about the word "steal": I'm reading Austin Kleon's "Steal Like an Artist - 10 things nobody told you about being creative." I stole his exercise on blackout poetry for a creativity workshop, although my co-presenter and artist colleague Kathryn Schnabel do give Austin his due credit. For me, it's not about stealing or feeling a need for more creative juice; I simply love the chemistry of creativity and can't resist the book. Quirky but spot on.

Speaking of books, here's another - "Making Your Life as an Artist" by Andrew Simonet, founder of Artist U.  During a 2013 Artist U weekend workshop sponsored by the South Carolina Arts Commission, I identify a focus on installation work and an artist residency as two career goals. A year later, I am here: an Artist-in-Residence at the invitation of the Paducah Arts Alliance, working on an installation. Whether you are a beginner or seasoned professional, this book is a gem, one which Andrew invites you to "steal" (actually "download and share"). Please do.

Back to my walk. I consider my destination before I open the door, in part because I am directionally challenged but also because I am still soaking up Paducah. I return to the Quilt Museum for the previously bypassed gift shop, and to the Yeiser Center for the retrospective exhibit of Ron Fondaw. I need to insert a comment: sometimes less is more, and this applies to retrospectives. The artist's rock wall installation does provide a fresh appeal to the crowded exhibit which spans decades of two- and three-dimensional work. Perhaps the entire exhibit just needs more space.

And then an indulgence, an ice cream cone that I consume in record time, while observing a small powerboat launch from a tugboat toward the Ohio River shore to retrieve supplies. Onward to the Mississippi? There are moments when I feel the ghost of Mark Twain nearby, in his white suit, mustached and pithy, but probably not licking a dripping chocolate cone. I head West toward the studio, the sun as my guide.