Becoming

 Winter is a time for deep reflection and reckoning. This season has been a difficult one with a lot to sort through. Since the coming north, I realize that I’m still in the process of moving. Sorting, packing, and letting go, mentally this time. The distance has allowed for new insight into events of the past and in decisions about how things should be now, moving forward.

Work in progress - handwoven fabric, vintage linens and endless amounts of scraps.

I’ve had moments sitting in the dark not understanding which way to go. It is frustrating on many levels, but I must remember that it is often like this in the middle. Gradually, we can have a glimpse of the direction things are going. Becoming is a slow process and I can feel the pace of life starting to quake. In the studio I have been following an instinct to find ways to dealing with scraps, found vintage textiles and past pieces that never worked. I have been experimenting with them and have some works in progress. On my loom I’m still working with rag rug structure as a launching point for new work. I’ve been thinking a lot about the saying “sweep it under the rug.” As I work to uncover my family story, I’ve been pulling up the rugs and look for what was hidden.

Rag rug coming off the loom. The color mixing on this one surprised me. I want to make more.

This exploration on the loom seems to have legs. I keep having questions to answer, ideas to try out. I love the color potential of rugs with painted warps and my own hand dyed fabric. There are so many ways to bring color and texture to life. And there are so many surprises.

scraps get cut and joined together for rag rug weaving.

This year one of my overarching goals is to search out new communities to join. I’ve begun to wonder if I’ll seek out a studio space outside of my home to work in and to be closer to other artists. I’m looking for opportunities to join my passion for the outdoors, art and education.

One of the biggest surprises from the move is how much I have changed. This place, this Minnesota has worked some magic on me. I feel myself becoming more myself here. My attunement of place has heightened and I’m finding myself more curious. There is an audible psychic sigh of relief in our part of Minnesota. On Wednesday the snow began to fly in the afternoon and continued into the evening quite heavily. We woke up the next day to about six inches of snow. This is our first significant snow of the season. We had a seasonal total of four inches of snow until the other day (with over ninety inches last winter). The anxiety of Minnesotans was palpable. Though we may complain about the snow, it is part of what it means to be part of this place.

The sun after the snow. The light and shadows are so beautiful.

Impaired Water

I never really thought much about rag rugs until lately. So it is with some amusement that I have found myself drawn to making them. In the past,  I’ve made a few functional rugs for my studio space, and I love living with them. I love that I can reuse textiles or use up fabrics that have been languishing in my fabric collection. Rag rugs represent a link to culture for me, on both my Swedish and Finnish sides. They are so common in homes of Nordic decedents. I have a book and a DVD on my shelf about the rag rugs of Finnish American weavers. My new preoccupation is using a rag rug foundation to layer fabrics and stitches to build upon the meaning of home, culture, and to reuse my maps of environments and places in nature.

 I started by hand painting a linen warp to build colors of the warp with the colors of the rags that I’m using. I cut down remnant fabrics from other projects, overdyed textiles from the home, and perhaps my favorite, fabrics that were once pieces that didn’t work out, leaving the stitches in place and letting them poke out into the rug. I love seeing how color can be altered while the weaving is taking place.

Rag rug in progress on the loom with stitch remnants from a previous incarnation.

My latest work, Impaired Water, resulted from this experimentation. In this piece, I wove on a linen painted warp with linen fabric scraps and handmade paper. The paper is printed with the names of names of impaired waters found in the seven counties of the Twin Cities Metro areas. Monitoring water impairment and reporting findings every two years are requirements of the Clean Water Act. Impairments can include bacteria, litter sediment, and fertilizers. Storm water runs unfiltered off lawns, parking lots and roads and ends up in our lakes, streams, and rivers. Local and state governments are working to mitigate the impacts on our water. There is also a lot that individuals can do to improve water health in their neighborhoods and communities. To learn more, visit the Minnesota Water Stewards website at https://minnesotawaterstewards.org.

Impaired Water, 2023

When I wrote my proposal for the Art for Water project, I proposed a group of eight pieces for exhibition in the fall. Since I have continued my research into the project, it became clear that this wasn’t going to be just a single project, but a body of work. Impaired Water is the first piece.

Detail of Impaired Water with the names of water weaving in and out of visibility.

I received news this week that Impaired Water was accepted into the Minnesota State Fair Fine Art Exhibition. I’m thrilled that it will be seen by so many at the state fair, bringing the message of protecting our water to many people.

One Year Later, Now What?

“What part of Missouri are you all from?” 

Mark and I were sitting in the hotel breakfast area quietly discussing plans for our new life when a very tall and surly man stopped in front of our table and asked the question without preamble. We just stared at him, frozen in place by his audacity. “I saw your cars, your plates,” he shrugged. “My kid is graduating from college, and we are moving back to Springfield. I’ve had enough of this place.” His visible displeasure turned fully into disgust when we informed him that we were moving to Minnesota. I don’t know why people are like this.

At the beginning of May, we will have been in Minnesota for a year. We survived our first winter and we thrived. The Twin Cities had the third snowiest winter on the books. The benefit of beginners’ mind is you don’t know what is unusual. We enjoyed winter and we expect to enjoy future seasons as well.

“Rag rug” sampling on the loom. Experimenting with the structure of a rug as a base for embroidery. Lots of color mixing and using scraps and random bits.

My studio work lately has been a lot of sampling and trying new things. Before I packed everything up I had some ideas that I worked on and I left those fabric samples to rediscover on the other side. I’m glad that I did that as I wasn’t starting from zero. I also had a sense that for the next year, I would sample, experiment, and see where things led me. I miss making my work and yet the work that I made before seems to have quieted within me. I have mostly gracefully allowed that to just be and to not pick at it. There are other times though where the inner quiet is interrupted by my own inner voice asking, now what? What will I make now?

I was finally able to voice what I’m thinking and searching for on a walk to our lake this week with my husband. All this time my work has been about an imagined place or places that have left imprints on memory—the places that I longed for. Now that I’ve discovered that place that I imagined, what does that mean for my work? My husband suggested that I still long for that place. I long for the place that I have. It was a subtle shift and a wise suggestion.

Early spring at the lake

The places that I long for are now here. There are many of them – some are a block away, some a thirty-minute walk away, and many I haven’t seen yet. Spring has come to the north, and while the earth is slow to wake up, the creatures here are announcing the changes. The osprey are back, we see eagles almost every day again, and my long held wish to see a loon has been granted. We have seen about six of them now. The landscape here touches the small curious child that I once was and I can’t seem to get my fill of it. No matter the season. I just love being outside here, even if only in the driveway.

Loon spotting!

In Other News

I recently had an article published on the Norwegian Textile Letter, an interview with artist, Soile Hovila. Weaving Light and Meaning: A Conversation with Artist Soile Hovila

My piece This Land recently was given Award of Excellence at the Hopkins Center for the Arts. The Spring Members Show runs until May 14, 2023.

This Land