AMY MEISSNER
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Butterfly soul.

9/11/2015

16 Comments

 

I've talked about series work before and since I just sent this piece off to the Barrett Art Center in Poughkeepsie, NY (which feels very far from Anchorage, AK -- more on this in an upcoming post), I'm sharing process photos of how this piece from the Reliquary Series came about. 

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul
"Reliquary #3: Catch" (25.75 x 25.75) Vintage domestic linens, silk organza, wool, unfinished embroideries & quilt, found object. Machine pieced, hand embroidered & hand quilted, 2015.

I spent a lot of time researching reliquaries and memento mori for this series, exploring them through writing and drawing and pattern making, and have every intent to continue along this path for quite some time. I have no connection to these religious items based on my own history, but I'm a collector and a master of highly organized hoarding (and the requisite purging). The impulse behind this work is the question: How do we honor the worthless?  

The cloth, the stone, the unidentifiable bone.

And why would we?
And, should we?

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul

I think a lot about what it means to revere objects that are old, discarded or unwanted -- especially things that someone once made, or chose, or lived with, or wore. And then I wonder about the combining of these histories and the shaping of an object with a new energy.

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul

And alongside the mental journey, is the physical act of creating. The building, the repetition, the decision making, the standing back and realizing: Oh crap. I just made something that is too f***ing precious.

Then conjuring the cajones it takes fix that last part.

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul
Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul

Because sometimes a slice is the only way to insert what is needed into an object. In this case, a soul. 

What kind of cuts do we make to reveal our own souls?  When do we put aside our deep embarrassment or fear or stumble through our lack of words in order to peel back the precious parts, the pretty parts, the smoothed over and gilded? How do we find the hidden spirit within an entity? Where does it hide?

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul

A certain palette emerged in this series, and to see the work all in one room made me realize the power and meaning behind this limited range: 

          white: bone, history and the domestic
          gold and amber: bile, bodily fluid and the gilt edge
          black: ash and decay
          flesh tones: the body
          red: blood, the wound
          orange: the soul

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul
Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul

I spent 12 hours making French knots using wool from discarded crewel embroidery kits.  

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul

And the time it took to solve that design problem, offered further time to solve construction problems I knew were coming,

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul
Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul

and allowed the recognition, despite the hours invested, that something still wasn't right. Either too literally portrayed, or just not fine enough,

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul
Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul
Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul

and to know how to fix it.

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul
Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul

All the while considering the sinister behind the beautiful. 
The macabre within the gilded vessel. 
The darkness behind the light. 
The horrifying thing that happens when you pursue and then catch a butterfly.

Amy Meissner, textile artist. From the post Butterfly soul. www.amymeissner.com/blog/butterfly-soul

I thought for a time that I needed to insert my artist self somewhere. Among quilters, none of my points are perfectly rendered. Among embroiderers, my stitches are narrowly defined or nameless. Among writers, I'm here blogging. Among fine artists, my work is defined as craft. 

So I drift. Strengthening an intent that is honed through time, repetition, emotion and the narrative quality of a life. And the more I do this work, the less I care where it lands.

I will not be defined. I will not be pinned.

Among humans and butterflies, I am understood.



***
This is a link-heavy post. I'm to the point where this blog is coming together into ... I don't know ... something. Here's the list for those related posts: 

Strange Beauty
The Traveling Eye 6: Reliquary
Soul fever
The dream of pioneers
Amateur
Swallowing the needle
Finer
In the deep well of series work
Into darkness


16 Comments
Liz link
9/11/2015 11:47:24 am

"What kind of cuts do we make?" indeed. For I am that person: pointing out my own faults lest anyone think I am unaware of my deficiencies.

But here, at the end, I find redemption. "I will not be defined. I will not be pinned." (a wonderful double entendre)

This is why I come here, to see process and read the raw reality of what it takes to create. I would follow you anywhere.

Reply
Amy Meissner link
9/13/2015 07:23:18 am

Liz,
It IS a raw reality, isn't it? I find myself so swayed by staged photographs online and the ridiculous fiction that art/mothering/creating can only take place in white spaces with light spilling through the windows. For those of us who live this far north, the physical reality (and the Great Reminder) is that there are times when there is no light at all, times when the light is so low and angled that it is blinding. But we still create, and some of the best creating happens in the deepest dark. To hear that you, personally, are willing to follow me there into that sometimes-hole, and to see the numbers of others that read these posts, I'm shocked and humbled and mildly embarrassed to have shared so much. But it's good to have a place to show the mess and to be understood.
I wish you well, Liz. Thank you for showing up here.
XO
Amy

Reply
Sara
9/11/2015 01:20:18 pm

Oh my goodness, Amy. Your work gets more and more beautiful and intelligent. Was that even possible!?

The cajones to fix preciousness! Love that.

Reply
Amy Meissner link
9/13/2015 07:32:03 am

Sara,
As a writer, I KNOW you have those same cajones, too! I think it's amazing that we have re-connected here over a completely different art form better than we did when actually contributing to the same project (I'll dump the secretive nature here for anyone reading this -- I illustrated a wonderful YA chapter book of Sara Cassidy's called "Seeing Orange" -- it was a favorite project of mine -- you can find it in the "Former Lives" dropdown in the "About" section on this site. She is a sensitive, lovely writer).

Thank you so much for taking the time to comment here.
XO
Amy

Reply
Anita Joy
9/11/2015 04:23:31 pm


I'm in Australia and last night (Fridee) on telly was the doco "The Last Secrets of 9/11", which followed the identification of people lost on that day, focussing on the DNA sampling, the processes of preparing a fragment of bone for identification. Exhausting the limits of the science, plateauing, then having another run at it years later...

...then I visit your blog this morning and....

.."the unidentifiable bone"....

----<----@




Reply
Amy Meissner link
9/13/2015 07:39:16 am

Anita Joy,
Oh my. What timing.
I believe (okay, sincerely hope) that this beach-found bone of mine is an animal bone -- seal, otter, deer -- I have no idea. But despite the compulsion to now have someone identify it properly (biologists, step up!), it nestles nicely with the abandoned needlepoint, clothing, drapes ... none of which I know the origins of. Poor orphans and scraps. They have a life here.
Thank you for your insight -- always gets me thinking even more. That's a dangerous thing.
XO
Amy

Reply
Laura link
9/12/2015 08:05:50 am

I don't live very far from Poughkeepsie, I might try to check this out in person! It looks fantastic.

Reply
Amy Meissner link
9/13/2015 07:45:57 am

Laura,
If you do go to the Barrett Art Center in Poughkeepsie, I would love installation photos. I'd love to see the other work and how the show was curated overall. I'm so intensely curious about the mind of the juror, Janet Bishop, from the San Francisco MoMA, and especially thrilled to have textile work recognized in this contemporary art venue.
Even if you don't make it, the fact that you're considering a trip is lovely. Damn, I'm far away.
XO
Amy

Reply
Tracie Bolack link
9/12/2015 09:38:55 am

I make it a point to visit with you every time you open the door to invite us in. Your work always leaves me with the itch to get needle and thread between my fingers, and thinking..... about the deeper themes and meaning to making and living, about process and the self imposed challenges that always presents us with to craft finer, to stretch possibilities, to share what we know and learn and to question if it's true, or keep questioning in order to keep making. In short, you inspire me and I thank you.

Reply
Amy Meissner link
9/13/2015 07:54:24 am

Tracie,
I appreciate that you see this as a door opening, it really is. It only opens about once a week. Sometimes this is less than my physical door, sometimes it's more. For an intensely private person to show up here and share is difficult, but made so much easier when readers take the time to comment and encourage.
We're all so busy. It's good to remember to open the door, release some stale air and let some new energy come rushing in.
XO
Amy

Reply
Nancy link
9/12/2015 09:18:53 pm

I have wondered about the numerous saints' bones I've seen in churches in Europe.
Catching a butterfly... One could spend a lot of time thinking about that..

Reply
Amy Meissner link
9/13/2015 07:58:31 am

Nancy,
How fortunate that you've seen saint's bones in person. I never have -- I'd love to talk to you about this some time, though. My butterfly memory is from when I was probably 4 or 5, living in California and finally catching a Monarch. All that black powder on my sweaty hands. Some images don't leave us, despite the time.
XO
Amy

Reply
LaceLady
9/14/2015 01:57:19 pm

I absolutely love every part of this ~ beautiful, thought-provoking, inspirational, intriguing, powerful! thank you!

Reply
Amy Meissner link
10/23/2015 06:33:55 am

Hello LaceLady!
Thank you so much for reading and commenting here. Your words are very kind and inspire me to keep trudging along!
XO
Amy

Reply
Tammy link
10/23/2015 04:56:34 am

Just found your blog....it's lovely!!!
Love this section here....
"I thought for a time that I needed to insert my artist self somewhere. Among quilters, none of my points are perfectly rendered. Among embroiderers, my stitches are narrowly defined or nameless. Among writers, I'm here blogging. Among fine artists, my work is defined as craft.

So I drift. Strengthening an intent that is honed through time, repetition, emotion and the narrative quality of a life. And the more I do this work, the less I care where it lands.

I will not be defined. I will not be pinned.

Among humans and butterflies, I am understood."

I feel like this all the time!!!

Reply
Amy Meissner link
10/23/2015 06:36:49 am

Tammy,
I'm so glad you found this blog. Thank you for your kind words about my work ... I think they came at a good time. Every day presents a new challenge, and receiving support is such a gift.
XO
Amy

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    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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