AMY MEISSNER
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A history of intention.

5/25/2017

42 Comments

 
Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention
“How to write a sex scene: 

1.) Clinical — all the body parts are named — clitoris, penis, vagina — best used in a story where nothing is hidden or shamed. Straightforward.
2.) Metaphoric -- sex acts replaced with imagery (reference to the natural world, powerful forces).
3.) Euphemism/Colloquial -- use of metaphors and/or cute names (His 'Johnny Jump-up.' Her Buttercup' or His 'Soldier,' Her Maidenhead').

4.) Hard Core/Graphic — raunchy, procedural, use of words like 'gash and snake'."

*Creative Writing and Literary Arts MFA, Lecture Notes, Instructor -- Jo-Ann Mapson 2002 or 2003
​
Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention

​I don’t remember completing the sex scene writing assignment. And despite ripping apart my file drawers, I couldn’t find my original notes (neither could my former professor, Jo-Ann Mapson, when I asked her for them over a decade after giving that lecture and assignment — no, we cobbled this list together a few weeks ago based on what we both recalled). And I never wrote a novel, even though I started one and abandoned it after 200 pages.

Nearly every writer has to come to terms with the sex scene, because if your characters are alive, they’re having — or at least thinking about having — sex. It's true. You’ll have to describe it if you want believable characters. The point of Jo-Ann’s lecture was this:  make sure the style of the scene is indicative of the type of story you are writing.

Years later, she would send me an old yellow quilt -- not particularly well put together, not loved or cared for, but obviously used hard. Maybe like the unknown woman who made it, or laid beneath.

And it -- she -- spoke to me.

​"Fatigue Threshold," made from that quilt, is my sex scene.


Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention
Abandoned quilt , doilies, crocheted tablecloth, child’s bedding, wool, silk organza. Machine pieced, hand appliqued, hand embroidered, hand quilted. Quilt National, 2017.

I can’t define the style. It’s hard core, but metaphoric. It’s specific, but oblique. Like the construction of the final piece, the style is layered.     ​

But I can tell you this much: it was terrifying to create.

Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention

Not the slicing, or the construction or the use of fragile fabrics. Not the time I knew it would take, or all the ways it could go wrong. Not the technical finessing of a sheer border element, or the handwork. ​
​
Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention
Reverse, detail.
​No. What terrified me was releasing the work into the world and having people assume this character, this actual narrative, was mine.

Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention

I don't know why this bothered me so much. It happens to fiction writers all the time — readers assume a writer’s characters are autobiographical, and sometimes they are, but most of the time they aren’t, or at least wholly aren’t. Something similar happens with film actors and the roles they portray. It’s difficult to separate the maker from the made.

For me, the distilled quality of a piece and the choice to make what I make, relies on emotional truth. ​
​
Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention
Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention

Emotional truth is the reason why some non-fiction is better represented as fiction, and why some authors will complete one narrative only to repeat it in another genre (think Alice Sebold).

Sometimes the literal truth is too close to the surface of an idea, and it’s better to poke and prod at that fire from a distance, circling from a point where you watch all the sparks disappear into the night. You sense the full scope of flame. You see how it lights up the surrounding foliage.

​Stand too close to a fire, and you blister your boots.


Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention
Wool hand appliqued letters. Each letter took 20 minutes to apply. There are about 80.

“The voice of this cloth is so strong I wanted you to have a piece of it. Amelia was incarcerated in the Detroit House of Correction for killing her abusive husband…”  
​

— Helen Geglio, Vintage Linen Contributor, Inheritance Project (The 7th box of mystery)
​
I thought about Amelia a lot while I worked on this piece. I considered the triangular bit of crocheted tablecloth Helen sent me for the Inheritance Project, that washing-machine-bleach-ruined scrap of a once larger work Amelia had made while incarcerated. I thought about calling the piece “Amelia.” I wanted to embed her crochet into the layers. I wanted to tell her story, or it’s myth. But I did none of these things, because every time I sidled up to the flames with my purposeful stick, I singed my arm hair. Amelia’s specific story was not only not my story, but I couldn’t even see what the story was while standing right on top of it.
​
Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention
Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention

So I found a longer stick, and I duct taped another stick to that one, and I whacked the coals from my vantage point somewhere in the trees until I saw the moment, that spark rising and becoming the wisp of a path to the emotional truth: a woman’s breaking point. ​

​Her fatigue threshold.

“In the study of materials — iron, steel, wood, plastic — fatigue refers to a component’s failure after repeated and excessive loads. It is the crumpled beam, the snapped lever, the bowed wall. This piece explores the landscape of women’s work through the use of abandoned cloth, the female form and traditional handwork, to portray the moment before collapse. The burdens are emotional, physical, sexual, literal. We hoard, we discard, we mend, we make do because despite our destruction, some scrap of beauty can always be salvaged.” 

—Amy Meissner, Artist Statement, Quilt National 2017, “Fatigue Threshold.”
Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention

"Fatigue Threshold" is about sex. It’s about abuse. It’s about a moment. It’s about a lifetime. It’s about one woman. It’s about all women. It’s about the monotony of tasks and burdens and the domestic realm and exhaustion and birth and life and despair and the slow death of something once precious. 

And it is, to me, incredibly beautiful.

Working with old linens is tricky, because focusing on their beauty alone feels nostalgic. The alternative is to destroy them, but that feels self-indulgent and pointless to the work I’m trying to achieve.

I will always strive to balance the beautiful and terrible. It’s hard, and it’s always on my mind.
​
Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention

I’m one of 85 artists accepted into Quilt National 2017. I’ve never submitted before, but I have 3 hardcover catalogs dating back to 2011, so I’ve been following the exhibition for a long time.

I recently traveled to Athens, Ohio for the exhibition’s opening. I’m incredibly honored to show with such a talented group of artists. 

The work will travel until September 2019, so I won’t have this piece for my solo exhibition, which is a shame since it’s an important component to the Inheritance Project. But more people will see it this way, and hopefully they’ll be moved. Maybe they’ll contact me.

If I had to write that sex scene now, at 45 instead of 31 or 32 years old when it was originally assigned, I’d opt for balance. Some raunch, some metaphor, some matter-of-fact language. 

Zero cute names.

​And I'd do the assignment.


Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post A history of intention. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/a-history-of-intention

Elsewhere on this blog:

To learn about the origins of that yellow quilt  Jo-Ann Mapson sent me two years ago, read: Yellow Quilt.

​
For backstory on other textile work, check out the side bar category "Histories" (then scroll down because this post will show up first).


​Thanks for reading. It means a lot.

42 Comments

Rasmuson Foundation Project Award

5/19/2017

3 Comments

 
Amy Meissner, textile artist. | From the post Rasmuson Foundation Project Award | www.amymeissner.com/blog/rasmuson-foundation-project-award

As an artist living in Alaska, I face some challenges.
  • Weather.
  • Moose on the road.
  • Sodden snow gear and missing gloves. Finding moldy missing gloves.
  • Red-eye flights in and out of Anchorage.
  • A mild insinuation that this distance from major art hubs will keep me from entering their realm. 
  • Sucking it up for shipping expenses and insurance, because that time I cheaped out, I got burned by an agent with an overzealous box cutter.
  • Accepting that local options for commercial fabrics include Jo-Ann Fabrics and a handful of quilt shops (and while the latter offer lovely items, I'm not currently inspired to work with them, maybe later, but Jo-Ann F., you can take a hike. Unless I need polar fleece or interfacing or embroidery floss or nylon webbing or serger thread or stickers or 90% off Halloween decorations or cinnamon-scented-headache-inducing imported pinecones, in which case you're back in the game).
Amy Meissner, textile artist. | From the post Rasmuson Foundation Project Award | www.amymeissner.com/blog/rasmuson-foundation-project-award
Alaska Dispatch News, Friday May 12, 2017.
But. As an Alaskan of over 16 years, I consider myself one among a resilient, capable, hearty -- sometimes a little scrappy -- population, solving problems with duct tape and slip knots and a freezer full of moose meat and last year's salmon. We're those people who, when told they can't do something, go god-damned do it anyway. Sometimes with a back hoe.
​
  • Distance can be bridged through the internet, and an acceptance that 4:30 am Alaska time is 8:30 am eastern standard.
  • Shipping can be budgeted for and smarter decisions can and should be made regarding where to exhibit and how often.
  • Materials can and should be considered differently, sustainably. The fabric I love most continues to come to me through generous donations of vintage linens from all over the world and cut up thrift store finds. And sometimes I suck it up and order online from New York. 
  • Moldy gloves require bleach.
​
But I'll tell you right now, all scrappiness aside, what sets the tone for art and artists in Alaska is the class act support of the Rasmuson Foundation. In 2016, they awarded $14.6 million dollars in grants spread across various programs -- from environment and research, to arts, culture, humanities and organizational development.

​(You can learn more about the history of the Rasmuson Foundation here.)
​
Amy Meissner, textile artist. | From the post Rasmuson Foundation Project Award | www.amymeissner.com/blog/rasmuson-foundation-project-award
Maria Shell (Fellowship), Amy Meissner (Project Award), Beth Blankenship (Fellowship).

In your artistic search for nation-wide grant opportunities, perhaps you've noticed there aren't many individual artist awards out there, and this is a shame. Because we need them. Not because we're lazy, or don't want to work (do you know any artists who don't work their asses off?) or because we're asking for a hand out. We need support for the same reason artists for centuries have needed support -- because there is rarely a price appropriate for creativity, and it's easier to breathe when someone's hand is resting on your shoulder. 
​
Amy Meissner, textile artist. | From the post Rasmuson Foundation Project Award | www.amymeissner.com/blog/rasmuson-foundation-project-award
Amy Meissner, textile artist. | From the post Rasmuson Foundation Project Award | www.amymeissner.com/blog/rasmuson-foundation-project-award
Amy Meissner, textile artist. | From the post Rasmuson Foundation Project Award | www.amymeissner.com/blog/rasmuson-foundation-project-award

This year, 450 Alaskan artists applied for this type of individual artist award through the Rasmuson Foundation and 35 artists received them. I'm beyond honored to say I was one of those artists, receiving a $7500 Individual Artist Project Award in support of the Inheritance Project. This year's $18,000 Fellowships fell into the disciplinary categories of Choreography, Crafts, Folk & Traditional Arts, Literary Arts/Scriptworks & Performance Art. While a number of good friends received Fellowships (and Project Awards, too), I was thrilled three of us happened to also be members of Studio Art Quilt Associates (SAQA). This trio includes Maria Shell and Beth Blankenship and me.

Amy Meissner, textile artist. | From the post Rasmuson Foundation Project Award | www.amymeissner.com/blog/rasmuson-foundation-project-award

So, not only were we honored for our work as artists, we were honored for work as textile artists. 

I'm incredibly grateful and blown away by the support I've received for the Inheritance Project -- strangers, friends, the Anchorage Museum, the Alaska State Museum, the Sustainable Arts Foundation and now the Rasmuson Foundation. That's a lot of skin in the game for something that didn't exist 2 years ago.

No pressure.

Breathe easier.

​Now work.

Elsewhere on this blog.

One year ago: The fallen
Two years ago: The traveling eye 8: Fool's Gold

And, hey.

I sent my first newsletter in mid April and the second on May 22. If you've subscribed and didn't receive these, please check your spam/clutter folder and allow contact@amymeissner.com so next month's news will come to your inbox. Thanks!

3 Comments

Linens, ghosts and bravery.

5/7/2017

24 Comments

 
Christine Chester, UK Artist | From Linens, Ghosts & Bravery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/linens-ghosts-and-bravery
Work in progress, Christine Chester.

I don't travel alone much, but recently spent time in Lincoln, Nebraska for the SAQA (Studio Art Quilt Associates) "Creation to Curation" conference (I'm a regional co-representative in Alaska with Maria Shell). Despite the 3-hour time difference for me, I was still up at 4:30 or 5 am each day.

Once of the people who stumbled into that Early-Morning-Inbox-tapping-quietly-so-I-dont-wake-my-roommate space was Christine Chester.

She asked a question, which I'm sharing with her permission, and while I'm no expert, I gave her an answer I wish someone would grab me by the shoulders, look me in the eye and give to me.

Christine Chester, UK Artist | From Linens, Ghosts & Bravery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/linens-ghosts-and-bravery | Sarah Gawler Photography
Christine Chester, UK Artist | From Linens, Ghosts & Bravery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/linens-ghosts-and-bravery

​"Hi Amy,
​

I wonder if I could ask you a question about your Inheritance Project and your approach to working with your mystery box gifts. 

To set it in context - I am working with old handkerchiefs which have been gifted to me by various individuals - as a development of my work on dementia/loss of memory/identity. 
I am struggling to balance the respect I want to show these gifts of someone's quite intimate possession and the necessity to affect them in some way as an artist. 

I desperately want to use them all - I want everyone to see what I see in them - I want to show every single detail. But the artist in me wants to change or affect them for the purposes of communicating my thoughts.
​

You work so sensitively with your materials I wondered if you wouldn't mind sharing any thoughts you might have on your approach. Though you may choose not to and I would completely understand that. 

Thanks

Christine"

Christine Chester, UK Artist | From Linens, Ghosts & Bravery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/linens-ghosts-and-bravery
"Fading..." (105cm x 45cm), 2011. Christine Chester.

Just to be up front -- this isn't an advice column, nor am I clear on what the hell I'm doing MOST of the time. I'm not a how-to guru and pretty sure I'm no teacher, but Christine had questions about work I felt I could answer since none of these concerns are new to me. I think about them all the time with regards to an artist's choice of materials, my unanswered questions and a deep respect for makers known and unknown.

Christine Chester, UK Artist | From Linens, Ghosts & Bravery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/linens-ghosts-and-bravery
"Holding An Absence" (Approx 150cm x 180cm), 2015. Christine Chester.

So I responded with the letter I'd want to receive, and Christine graciously allowed me to share our private early morning correspondence. 
​
Hello Christine,

Thank you for contacting me and for asking such a compelling question. It’s one that I’ve periodically let my mind wander to, but have decided not to get hung up on, and here’s how I do this:

1. You are the final inheritor of these objects. Unless anyone has asked you to not alter an object (and I have had a woman give me something, then expressly ask me not to “cut it up”…I’m still trying to figure out the work around on that one), then it is yours to do whatever you want with. Guilt. Free. No matter what your mother/aunt/grandmother/neighbor/friend/stranger says. When contributors contacted me about the Inheritance Project, I sent an email indicating that the form of the object would change, so I could give a heads up right away and allow them to change their minds. No one did (except that one lady, but she never got the email, she just gave me this thing in a driveway…long story…).

Christine Chester, UK Artist | From Linens, Ghosts & Bravery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/linens-ghosts-and-bravery
Final Pockets images, (approx 15-20cm x 6-15cm x 5cm with knotted slings), 2015. Christine Chester.

2. Balance the beautiful and the terrible. Decide what falls back and what comes forward, and when. If it’s all terrible, then its a travesty to ruin old linens. But if it’s all beautiful, then it’s nostalgic craft and doesn’t prod at the deeper living questions, which is what makes this work your art. I often approach this balance through technique. No one can say I’ve destroyed something old and precious if I’ve re-constructed it with the utmost care. Often the terrible is layered, sometimes it is on the surface, but it’s always there. Either in a work's bones or in its graffiti.
​
Christine Chester, UK Artist | From Linens, Ghosts & Bravery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/linens-ghosts-and-bravery
Work in progress, Christine Chester.

​3. You are offering these objects a new life. I have about 80 handkerchiefs that I, too, am going to work with, but in community art workshop form, re-distributing them to others and teaching them how to work with this old cloth and found objects, then combining it all into one larger piece. Some of these handkerchiefs still had the labels on them, from 50 years ago — they were never even used. I have a friend who coined the phrase, “Save the best for never.” Is this the right thing to do? It’s what many of our mothers/grandmothers did and somehow that guilt has passed on to us. So stop it right now. You have an opportunity to create a compelling narrative, using old cloth and bringing awareness to your work, your sensitivity and these items. You have every right to do this. The best has come to you now for a reason, so don’t save it. Use it.
​
Christine Chester, UK Artist | From Linens, Ghosts & Bravery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/linens-ghosts-and-bravery
Work in progress, Christine Chester.

4. Show up. You can very easily put this project on the back burner, worried that you will offend someone. But here’s the thing: you probably will offend someone. Some. ONE. (One person contacted me to say she was offended that I was asking for free materials when I should be frequenting thrift stores and buying it myself. Of course, she missed the point of the the project, but her outrage forced me to hone my message and be more clear about my intent). However, the majority of people will see your work and feel moved. Some to tears if you do your job well. So show up every day and work, even if you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. Go to sleep every night thinking about this project and the answers will come. Write about your work so you, too, are clear on your intention and ready to defend yourself and your choices as an artist should you need to.

I hope this helps.
It’s helped me to write it all down here. I’m grateful you reached out, that was brave.

All the best,
Amy
Christine Chester, UK Artist | From Linens, Ghosts & Bravery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/linens-ghosts-and-bravery
Book cover for final MA project, Christine Chester.
Christine Chester, UK Artist | From Linens, Ghosts & Bravery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/linens-ghosts-and-bravery | Sarah Gawler Photography

Christine Chester is a textile artist working with mixed media and stitch and her current work focuses on the loss of identity resulting from dementia. In 2015 she had a gallery at the UK’s Festival of Quilts in Birmingham featuring many of these works, and also gained her Masters degree. Christine works as a teacher, specializing in print & dye processes, design and stitch. She runs a specialist teaching studio in Eastbourne, on the south coast of England. Recently accepted into the prestigious Quilt Art group, Christine is also a member of textile group unFOLD who had a gallery in 2016 at the UK’s Knitting & Stitching shows in Alexandra Palace & Harrogate.


​In short, this lady is no slouch. I can't believe she wrote and asked me ... well ... anything. I'm totally honored to be a part of her world and her sensibility.

* Portrait photography by Sarah Gawler of Sarah Gawler Photography. Other images courtesy of the artist.


Also on this blog:

For other artist profiles, click on the sidebar category: Find Your Teachers (then scroll past this post, which will appear there, too).

One year ago: ​Unicorn Heart
Two years ago: Soul Fever

Newsletter news:


I sent one out mid April, and a second one especially for contributors to the Inheritance Project. If you signed up and didn't receive one, please check your spam/clutter box. If you'd like to receive a pretty newsletter with links to blog posts and upcoming news (maybe once a month ... maybe), you can sign up for it here. I promise I'm not spammy.

24 Comments
    Amy Meissner, textile artist. Photo credit Brian Adams, 2013. www.amymeissner.com

    Amy Meissner

    Artist in Anchorage, Alaska, sometimes blogging about the collision of history, family & art, with the understanding that none exists without the other.

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