Kaipuu: Longing

March 31, 2022

Last week I listened to an episode of Brené Brown’s Unlocking Us podcast that was perfect in its timing. Susan Cain (author of Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking) spoke about her new book Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole, to be released in April. Cain spoke about the link between bittersweet and melancholy. Life isn’t all positive vibes only; we need to know where the edges are in order not to fall off. I’ve always had a melancholic side. For instance, I sometimes love to listen to music that makes me ache inside to remind me I’ve experienced and survived many hard things.

In the last year I’ve tried to bring my attention and focus to the here and now – to try to be present in the moment. Our impending out-of-state move has tested this emphasis as the very act is about future focus.

As I take my daily walks, I notice spring return and the shift into potential of what will soon emerge and flower. It is one of my favorite times of the year.

crocus flowers at Missouri Botanical Gardens

A restlessness has descended on my family as we near the time of our move. For the moment there is nothing to do – all the prepacking is complete. We took a sizable load of my studio boxes and equipment up to storage in Minnesota a couple of weeks ago. The walls of our home are empty for the first time in memory, and we don’t feel at home here anymore.

On the drive we saw flocks of geese migrating north and the urge to join them even now is overwhelming. Our migration time has a few weeks yet, but the pull north is strong.

A few books I didn’t pack yet. Ever the optimist, I thought I’d have so much time to study.

When we drove into Minnesota, I kept my eyes open to spot the groves of birch trees that I’ve missed since our last trip north. I remember the first time I saw them and thought there they are. This time when I spotted them, I thought here I am. I made a piece in 2019 with text on it with the words “here” and “there” and below them “Those that came before.” It was the first work postgraduate school fog and I made it largely on instinct with experimentation. At the time I didn’t understand the full meaning of the words. “There” feels in the distance, a point of reference not close to where I stand. “Here” in contrast is where I am, and the beginning of an orientation point on a map.

*Memory Map 1,* 2019
8" h x 8" w x 1"d
Cotton and linen.
Hand dyed fabric, machine and hand embroidery. Mounted.

I spoke with a group of artists the other day about themes in my work and I shared that I’ve been thinking about and circling back to themes of home, place, maps, and location for most of my life. I grew up in the Midwest and would fly out to visit my mother in the southwest a couple of times a year. I grew to love the high desert landscape and the mountains. When I would come “home,” I would feel out of sync, alienated until I adjusted back into the lush humid hills of Missouri. I felt home in both places but never really at home. I remember trying to express this disconnect, but I never found people that seemed to understand my sensitivity to land and place. For most, it didn’t seem to make much of a difference where they lived.

I ran across a paper that I wrote for an undergraduate literature class that explored home in literature, film, and songs. I can see the early thoughts express themes that I would later go on to create visual art about and now write about again

In all our preparation, I feel a sweep of bittersweetness in leaving my home. Growing up in this place, I can point to so many memories both good and bad. There are ghosts lingering everywhere. I’m longing for a place of my own, without a familial history to haunt me. Sometimes we must move toward the life we could have, even if we aren’t clear what it will look like.

“Coming home to a place he’s never been before.”

— John Denver, "Rocky Mountain High"

References

Brown, Brené. "How sorrow and longing make us whole, part 1." Unlocking Us Podcast. March 23, 2022. https://brenebrown.com/podcast/how-sorrow-and-longing-make-us-whole-part-1-of-2/

Cain, Susan, and Min Kym. The hidden power of sad songs and rainy days. July 2019 https://www.ted.com/talks/susan_cain_and_min_kym_the_hidden_power_of_sad_songs_and_rainy_days.

Gilbert, Elizabeth. Not this. Essay posted on Facebook. April 12, 2016. https://m.facebook.com/GilbertLiz/posts/not-this-back-by-popular-demandsweet-friends-for-some-mysterious-reason-that-i-s/1004594839622631/.

Opportunities and Challenges

February 18, 2022

Preparations for our move are well into motion. My studio for the most part is packed. I’ve given a lot of thought about the move and what it might offer my work. I’m embracing the limitations of space, materials and techniques that will be available to me as we transition. I’ve filled a large tote with a selection of hand dyed fabrics, handwovens, mini-iron and ironing mat. I’ll later add threads and other supplies so they will be ready for our move. Since we will be in temporary housing for an unknown amount of time, most of my materials are going to a storage unit. I’m trying to anticipate what I need and ultimately, if it isn’t accessible, then perhaps I don’t really need it after all. I had a colleague that would frequently say – “opportunities and challenges” when things got interesting at work. Perhaps those words will be the motto of this move.

I cut off the last pieces from my loaned loom before it gets returned to my mentor. Working ahead, I did some weaving using fabrics to make rag rugs, a common element to Nordic homes. Fabric was dear and you reused it as much as you can. I never imagined that I would love weaving rag rugs so much. It is such a tactile process and so satisfying to beat the rags into place. Thump, thump, thump!

Rag rug made out of hand dyed fabric that was disappointing as a fabric, but transformed well into a rug.

My thought is to use these pieces as a ground for my embroidery. The piece comes to my worktable already charged with a history connected to heritage, recycling, and the home. I experimented with different types of fabrics, mixing them into one piece, using them as elements to draw and to see what happens when a fabric is cut into strips and reassembled into a new form.

With each new idea and project, there is research that goes along with it. I picked up a copy of the book Finnish American Rag Rugs: Art, Tradition & Ethnic Continuity by Yvonne Lockwood a few months ago. It is a hefty source for information on the makers and keepers of traditions. I also found a documentary Finnish American Rag Rug Weavers https://upnorthfilms.com/product/finnish-american-rag-rug-weavers/ was made on the subject by Up North Films and I’m eagerly awaiting my copy.

Insert drawing rug here or book here.

Work in progress - hand dyed fabric and drawing a line

Now to write the hard part. Last Sunday we lost our greyhound, Sam.

Sam (racing name Samurai Drive)
November 9, 2008 - February 13, 2022

Sam has been a character in life, in my social media posts and in stories that would tell friends since we adopted him in the fall of 2013. He was such a naughty wonderful dog. He retired from racing at almost five. He had to be taught how to be a dog, to go up and down stairs, about windows and glass doors.

He survived separation anxiety, seizures, and a stomach ulcer. We survived his destructiveness with separation anxiety with some loss – an out-of-print mathematics book, a Lebanese cookbook (also out of print) and a book about sheep (would you believe, out of print?). I still do not understand how he got ahold of these books. All of them were on bookshelves in various places in the house and those shelves were packed with books. How did he remove them?! There was also the two-week-old iPhone that he stripped down. The Apple store kids could not believe it and many photos were taken to be shared. I unfortunately did not take one for my records.

Sam required a lot of care in managing his various medical needs. He made himself the center of attention and given his 80 lbs. size he often was the center. He insisted on laying on my feet at night and often stealing my quilt to lay on. He adored blankets and usually we would just give him the one we were using and find another one.

Sam’s loss wasn’t a big surprise. He was thirteen after all and a large dog. He was just diagnosed and treated for a liver infection and for the first time in a long time was feeling so good. The radiologist could not get over that he was thirteen – he didn’t look his age inside or outside. Sam had been slowly developing weakness in his back legs. We were managing it with medication, and last week he began to show signs of a limp with neurological linkage. On Sunday afternoon, the limp reappeared and over the course of a few hours he could barely stand or walk without assistance. It happened fast and we knew it was time.

It is always hard to lose a dog and I’ve taken Sam’s passing particularly hard. He spent much of his day with me in my studio. I learned to step over him in my comings and goings. The sound of his soft snores was the background noise in the house. I have moments when I forget for a minute that he isn’t here and start to look for him. Sam had so much life and love. The house just feels empty and still without him.

New Year, New Plans and New Loom

January 10, 2022

After taking a few weeks off, I’m back in the studio. I’m rearranging some furniture, downsizing others, sorting out various stashes, and making donations. This year I have some transition occurring. My family is planning a move from St. Louis to Minneapolis later this year. It has been a few decades since my last move, but I still remember the process well enough to start organizing and downsizing early in the planning process.

After visiting Minneapolis in the fall, we began to research and talk seriously about making the move. My husband describes Minneapolis as a park with a city tucked into it. It isn’t far from the truth. The ready access to walking paths and parks that wind their way through the city and out into the suburbs were a huge factor in our decision. I’ve had a hunger to be near water most of my life we will be near so many lakes and rivers. I feel a particular link to the Mississippi River and I’m really looking forward to getting to know it upstream. A trip to the headwaters is on the list once we get settled.

As an artist occupied by place and nature, I know that the move will impact my work. It has already begun to seep into my idea sketches. I also look forward to engaging with the many cultural and arts organizations. The Weavers Guild of Minnesota is a rich active guild with a wonderful vision for building toward the future. The guild is house inside the Textile Center, their building with a gallery, shop, library, and meetings spaces as a result of a unique merging of thirty organizations. I plan to spend some time researching in the library!

A little over a month ago, I received a Bexell Cranbrook Countermarch Loom. The loom has been in storage for perhaps twenty years, and it needed a little cleaning. I’ve been tackling the cleaning a little bit at time. The loom will be wrapped for moving and storage before I can assemble it later this year. I hadn’t planned on adding a loom to the mix, but it will pack up nicely and is very easy to move. Even the largest pieces I can carry myself.

One of my favorite things about working in textiles is the many avenues for research for the history of tools, makers, and techniques. The Cranbrook loom offered an opportunity for some reading and the story is quite interesting.

The loom was designed by Finnish artist, Loja Saarinen and Swedish craftsman, John Bexell.

Saarinen designed the textiles for her husband, architect Eliel Saarinen’s buildings. Loja was unhappy with the looms in her studio and after working with Bexell, the Cranbrook Loom was born. Today, Cranbrook looms are made by Schacht Spindle Company. They are still highly prized by weavers. The loom I have was made by the original Bexell company. It is much smaller than most with a weaving width of only 36.” Countermarch looms can be enormous. Some are large enough for multiple weavers to weave side by side. The looms are well suited for a variety of woven textiles—everything from delicate linens to heavy rugs.

The loom has cleaned up beautifully and the craftsmanship is remarkable. The wood has aged to a rich honey tone. The same wood was used throughout even in places no one would ever see. Schacht has an article with more the history of the Cranbrook Loom that you can read here.

Eliel Saarinen designed many of the buildings at Cranbrook. He taught architecture and later served as president. Cranbrook has a rich art history, particularly of textiles, and many educators have studied there. I would love to take a trip to Michigan to visit the campus someday. Cranbrook offers on-campus tours, virtual tours and talks on a variety of subjects. Much of the archives are online, including many fascinating photos. They also hold the records of the Saarinen family. Last year I attended a fantastic lecture on Loja Saarinen’s studio.

To Learn More Visit: Cranbrook Center of Collections and Research