Spontaneous Combustion Blog

Inheritance: makers. memory. myth.

5/18/2018

Inheritance is a project I've worked on for nearly 3 years. It began in 2015 when a woman in New York state sent me a box of mystery filled with linens and vintage garments, and based on the response I received from sharing that story online, I officially crowdsourced more household, handmade/hand-embroidered cloth, along with associated stories. I offered to become the final inheritor of it all, even though most of the origins and makers were Unknown.

"Inheritance: makers. memory. myth." installed at the Anchorage Museum.

Also unknown, was what a body of work made from cast off, abandoned, sometimes-unwanted, or even still-loved-but-burdensome objects would look like. Even when I submitted the proposal to the Anchorage Museum in 2016, I had little to show, but must have been convincing in my direction. I gave up so much control over my materials during the course of this project that it's changed the way I work. After 12 years in the clothing industry, I already endure a rocky relationship with clothing and fabric, but after this exercise in mindfulness, strange abundance and deep emotional dives, I have more ways to side-eye run-of-the-mill cloth.

Yesterday, I walked into the fabric store to by 1.3 meters of fabric to back a piece I'm finishing, found exactly what I was looking for, pulled out the bolt, walked 5 steps and stopped. My daughter, age 9, who was with me when I opened that first box of mystery and there for the dozens that followed, said, "I think I understand, mom," and then, "I don't want be in here anymore. Let's go." So I returned the perfect bolt of cloth to the shelf and we walked out the door.

We aren't snobs, we aren't garbage pickers (well, sometimes), but going through this process has put me somewhere in the middle -- somewhere between what can be and what was, between old and new, between shouting and silence, between the beautiful and terrible, between confidence and uncertainty, between hiding everything and baring all.

And always, always existing in the Not Knowing.

Artist Statement, "Inheritance: makers. memory. myth." Anchorage Museum, Alaska. 2018.

Here's something I feel strongly about: theme kills. Entering into a project -- whether writing or visual arts -- with a theme in mind is a mistake. Themes emerge from the Not Knowing and from probing the Living Questions.

"Hysteria," Approx. 105 W x 90 H Vintage potholders, doilies, domestic/household linens, abandoned quilt, 2018.

My work explores the work of women--literal, physical, emotional. Theme emerges from stomping around on this landscape, turning over rocks, lifting dead things to find new growth, or investigating why that thing shriveled and died in the first place.

"Descent," (Suspended component: 9W x 20H x 9D, flat assemblage: 35 W x 53 L) Vintage doilies, silk organza, rubber, wire, epoxy clay, 2017.

These materials could have been debilitating, or narrow. They were. But roaming and poking at every single corner inside those confines is the ultimate freedom.

13W x 43H Vintage Persian lamb coat, vintage “yo-yo“quilt components, satin and men’s ties, rope, wire, epoxy clay, 2018.

I pushed against the confines of form and these surface-bound artifacts -- base items made for the bed, the body, the table, the wall -- elevating and lightening them, while at the same time infusing them with weight.

"Panoply," (8”H x 8” W x 36” L -- installation dimensions vary) Vintage crocheted potholders, adhesive, acrylic, vintage wool embroidery thread, needles, 2017.

I wanted to look at things we generally don't.

"River" (36 ½” W x 20’ 10” L) Vintage domestic/household linens and doilies, abandoned embroideries, silk organza, cotton, linen, wool, 2018.

And open up the process to as many other hands as I could.

"Needle & Myth," Community Art Project. (approx 120" x 150") Vintage handkerchiefs, silk organza, found objects.

I met incredible generous people throughout this multi-year process, many of whom I now call friends. Some are traveling to Alaska this summer to see this work installed at the Anchorage Museum.

Eventually I'll share more about each of these pieces -- where the components came from, process images and further thoughts. But the next posts will be about the installation process and museum programming. There are so many things I've learned that will continue shaping how I approach future projects.

I'm so happy with this work, even when I thought it wasn't enough, or too much, or that I shouldn't have started down such a path in the first place.

I'm still wandering around on it, somewhere between lost and found.

Many thanks to Brian Adams for taking these gorgeous photos, to the Anchorage Museum for all of their unfailing support and guidance, to the Rasmuson Foundation and the Sustainable Arts Foundation for funding assistance to do this work.

1 year ago on this blog:

A history of intention. (The piece in this blog, "Fatigue Threshold," is part of this body of work, but is currently touring with Quilt National until October 2019).

2 years ago on this blog:

Unicorn heart.

3 years ago on this blog:

Fool's gold.

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"Gilding the Lily" at the New England Quilt Museum

10/23/2017

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Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post Gilding the Lily at the New England Quilt Museum | www.amymeissner.com/blog/gilding-the-lily-at-the-new-england-quilt-museum

At the end of September I had the rare opportunity to travel to Boston. While my husband attended meetings for 2 1/2 days, I gave myself the gift of much needed alone time, like a 6-hour date with myself at the Museum of Fine Arts, another date with myself at the Institute of Contemporary Art, and a good hard wander through the gallery at the Society of Arts and Crafts. Did I mention we flew a grandma to Alaska to be with children so this could happen? So many moving parts. So hard to get away.

But the highlight of the trip was driving to Lowell on Saturday morning with the Director of the New England Quilt Museum, Nora Burchfield, to visit their current exhibition "Gilding the Lily: Embroidery in Quilts Past & Present." I was invited to exhibit 8 works for this show in my own "pocket" gallery. In the image below, you can see "Reliquary #8: Scroll through the entryway.

This exhibition will be installed until December 30, 2017. It's beautiful.

It was an incredible honor to be surrounded by 200 years of embroidered quilts in a city known for its long textile history, and have the prestige of representing a facet of this art form's contemporary turn. Work from both the Reliquary and Girl Story series are on display.

I didn't photograph everything in the exhibition, but below are a few broad strokes encompassing historic and contemporary work.

I recommend a good hard wander if you're out that way. You, too, might have a whole new shiny outlook.

I also had the opportunity to talk about my work while Caroline Gallagher created a video of this. I haven't seen it yet, but will link to when it's on You Tube.

Thank you Caroline and Nora for coordinating the effort.

Above is a rare reverse view of the suspended work, "Inheritance," featuring doilies used as "batting" between two layers of silk organza. The "quilting" is done with crewel embroidery wool and a darning stitch.

But enough about my work.

Kelly Cline, Lawrence KS "Champagene & Caviar," 2016. Cotton, silk. Hand embroidered vintage textile, hand-guided long arm quilting (left). Rhonda Dort, Houston TX, 2014. "Second Chances," Cottons, vintage linens, trims & doilies, crocheted pieces, buttons, beads, lace & pearls. Hand embroidery, applique, pieced & quilted. Macine embellished and embroidered.

Violet Cave Connors, Wellesley MA, "Tree of Summer Life," 1963. Detail. Linen, wool. Hand embroidered.

Barbara Korengold, Chevy Chase MD, "Ben's Midnight Garden," 2015. Detail. Cotton. Hand embroidered & quilted; assembled by machine.

Christine Wickert, Penfield NY "My Version of a Persian," 2013. Silk. Hand embroidered, quilted beaded & pieced.

Maker Unknown, Pennsylvania. "Odd Fellows Coffin Cover," c. 1900. Wool, cotton. Hand pieced, embroidered & quilted. Pilgrim & Roy Collection.

Maker Unknown, "Fairyland Crib Quilt #47, c. 1960. Cotton. Hand embroidered, machine pieced, hand quilted.

Rebecca C. Ayers Mack Heywood, Winchendon VT, "Embroidered Summer Spread, c. 1850. Wool, cotton. Hand embroidered, pieced and quilted.

Also, this happened: I ran into fellow Alaskan artist, Beth Blankenship, who happened to be in the museum on the same day, while visiting her daughter in Boston. Must've been the magnetic north pulling us toward one another, even when far from home.

One year ago on this blog:

How to wake a dragon.

Two years ago on this blog:

A second box of mystery.

Three years ago on this blog:

Get your label on.

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A history of intention.

5/25/2017

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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

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.

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.

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.

Reverse, detail.

No. What terrified me was releasing the work into the world and having people assume this character, this actual narrative, was mine.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

"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.

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.

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.

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I AM INUIT exhibition at the Anchorage Museum.

2/25/2017

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I AM INUIT exhibition | Brian Adams, photographer | www.amymeissner.com/blog/i-am-inuit-exhibition-at-the-anchorage-museum

"For the people who reside there, Alaska’s Arctic isn’t a curiosity, a wasteland or an untouched wilderness — it is home."

--Anchorage Museum

I've been waiting for this photography exhibition.

I've been following it for a year on social media, where one image a day was posted -- portraits on weekdays, images of place on the weekends -- and I've cared about the importance of such an undertaking, not only because I have the privilege of living in Alaska, but also because I have the privilege of knowing the photographer, Brian Adams.

You've obviously noticed by now that I am no photographer. Welding an i-phone at last night's opening does zero justice to this exhibition. Folks, if you live in Anchorage, please visit the Anchorage Museum to see this work in person and read each of the interviews/descriptions alongside the 50 images (out of 500 medium format photographs) curated for this installation in the ConocoPhillips gallery, 2nd floor. For the rest of the world, please visit the I AM INUIT website, where you'll be blown away by the humanity and resonance of this project.

You can also follow I AM INUIT on Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr or Facebook where images and interviews are posted and archived. This exhibition is a part of the Anchorage Museum's Polar Lab series -- "a reflection of the cultural, political, commercial, artistic and scientific attraction exerted by the international Arctic and subarctic" -- which seeks to connect art, science and the environment through various exhibitions and programs.

Brian gave a well-attended talk on the evening of, February 24, 2017, despite the slippery roads and intermittent freezing rain. Alaskans come out to support our artistic community, especially for someone as talented and -- as many of us agreed -- as nice as Brian.

(Even my slinking-terrified-Bethel-rescued-neurotic cat likes him.)

The work will travel from here to various venues, with a goal to travel the exhibition to other circumpolar countries. Follow I AM INUIT to find out where it will be heading next. In the meantime, check out Brian's website for other important work such as Disappearing Villages and Standing Rock-The Black Snake.

* * *

One year ago on this blog: A history of relics.

Two years ago on this blog: Finer.

Other posts about the Anchorage Museum:
Hard Won.
AIDS memorial quilt in Alaska.
Sami stories in Alaska.

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The Thread Unraveled -- VM Art Gallery, Karachi Pakistan

1/30/2017

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The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

"The Thread Unraveled," VM Art Gallery, Karachi Pakistan. January 25 - February 15, 2017.

About a year ago, a curator and artist from Pakistan named Samina Islam emailed to ask if I'd be interested in participating in a fiber art exhibition -- the first of its kind -- in Karachi at the VM Art Gallery. It was easy to find information on the gallery -- a non profit, in operation since 1987, with a stated intention that aligns with my own:

"Arts and crafts have always been a significant part of any culture and society around the world and artists are integral to its well being, creativity, diversity as well as innovations of any community; artists are people who make a contribution not only to the world’s cultural heritage but also to their country."

VM Art Gallery

But I still had questions, not about sending my work to Pakistan, specifically, but about sending my work overseas in general. This was my first international invitation and I wanted to ensure my decision to participate wasn't clouded by my own giddiness. Luckily, I have a Pakistani friend here in Anchorage, Shehla Anjum*, who I've known for over 13 years. We met in the Creative Writing MFA program at the University of Alaska Anchorage and our paths have woven like a braided river ever since. When I was first contacted by Samina, my friend Shehla happened to be in Pakistan visiting family.

In Karachi.

What are the chances?

Work by Lyndsey Mcdougall and Numair Abbasi, courtesy of VM Art Gallery.

"This show is meant to introduce the public to a variety of ways textile and fiber can be used to produce works that go beyond their aesthetics and raise a voice to incite a discourse on a range of issues effectively – a strengthened position that may not have had equal impact through other media.

For this exhibition Islam has brought five local and six international artists to participate and has assembled a diverse culmination of artworks that employ a gamut of techniques peculiar to the use of fabric and textile. The show is a mix of diverse cultures, stances, and voices that produce a cacophony of individual narratives despite the use of a single agent."

VM Art Gallery, exhibition press release excerpt

Work by Richard McVetis, Rosie James and Manica Musil, courtesy of VM Art Gallery.

Work by Masuma Halai Khwaja, Sue Stone and Samina Islam, courtesy of VM Art Gallery.

Work by Roomi Ahmed, courtesy of VM Art Gallery.

Shehla wasn't able to meet face-to-face with Samina, but they spoke on the phone in Karachi and discovered they have a mutual friend, Masuma Halai Khwaja, also an artist, and this was probably how my name was thrown into the global mix. Shehla indicated that Samina's enthusiasm for the curatorial effort was contagious and she passed that confidence on to me.

" (The artists) grant viewers to look beyond the rendered aesthetics and engage with the familiar medium, the materiality, the making, and the meaning behind the making. From installations and mixed media pieces, sculptural interventions and two dimensional artworks, the artists subsume thread, fiber, cloth, and garments in their works to bridge their voice with the audience and to evoke a response from viewers through the use of seductive, tactile materials that are inarguably an accessible art form."

Excerpt from Samina Islam's curatorial statement

Numair Abbasi | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

Roohi Ahmed | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

Masuma Halai | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

Asad Hussain | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

Rosie James | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

Lyndsey McDougall | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

Richard McVetis | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

Amy Meissner | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

Manica Musil | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

Sue Stone | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

Samina Islam | The Thread Unraveled | VM Art Gallery | Karachi Pakistan, 2017

I'm honored to be included in such company, some of whom I've followed for years, such as Sue Stone, and others whose names have more recently been appearing in various publications, such as Richard McVetis, or illustrator Manica Musil, who will soon publish her textile illustrated children's book with Oxford University Press, Pakistan in English and Urdu because of this opportunity. Other contributing artists have reached out to me, across oceans, across cultures, and now we're connected in this small way.

During a time of global uncertainty, this exhibition has a fitting title -- when caring for cloth, you often need to unravel the damage before any mending can begin. I know Samina Islam worked incredibly hard to bring all of us together, and she didn't have to.

But she did.

I sent the first "Girl Story" piece. It's won two awards and exhibited widely, so if she gets lost coming back to me, then that's part of the story.

But she won't.

Work by Amy Meissner and Sue Stone (and this may be the closest to Sue Stone I ever get to be...), courtesy of VM Art Gallery.

I couldn't attend the opening, so Samina asked for a video. I think I was more nervous about making this than sending work overseas. So here's what I sent, shaky voice and all. Many thanks to my sister, Erica, for putting this one together.

Here is a list of the other contributing artists with links to their sites. I hope you'll seek them out. I hope you'll cross that bridge.

Rosie James (UK)
Richard McVetis (UK)
Sue Stone (UK)
Lyndsey McDougall (Ireland)
Manica Musil (Slovenia)
Samina Islam (Pakistan)
Numair Abbasi (Pakistan)
Roohi Ahmed (Pakistan)
Asad Hussain  (Pakistan)
Masuma Halai Khwaja (Pakistan)

You can read critic Rabia S. Akhtar's review of the exhibition in Art Now: Contemporary Art of Pakistan.

*And back to my friend Shehla Anjum -- she was one of the contributors to the Inheritance Project, and you can read about the cloth I inherited from her in the post The 12th boxes of mystery. She is a writer, question asker, world traveler and generous human, and despite calling the US home for decades, she is also feeling the emotional effects of being born in a Muslim country. Connecting Samina and I has become a glimmer of silver, which she recently wrote about in an opinion piece for the Alaska Dispatch News.

If you are interested in other exhibitions, click on the sidebar category Gallery Shows and scroll down since this post will come up first.

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Inheritance: makers. memory. myth.

1 year ago on this blog:

2 years ago on this blog:

3 years ago on this blog:

"Gilding the Lily" at the New England Quilt Museum

One year ago on this blog:

Two years ago on this blog:

Three years ago on this blog:

A history of intention.

Elsewhere on this blog:

I AM INUIT exhibition at the Anchorage Museum.

The Thread Unraveled -- VM Art Gallery, Karachi Pakistan

Amy Meissner

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