Spontaneous Combustion Blog

Inheritance: makers. memory. myth. travels to Juneau, Alaska.

2/3/2019

Inheritance: makers. memory. myth. was accepted as part of the Alaska State Museum's Solo Exhibition Series, so after finishing at the Anchorage Museum this summer, it re-opened on December 7 in Juneau. I was able to travel there and help install the final tricky pieces, attend the opening with my family and conduct 2 youth workshops. It was so outstanding to see the work in a completely different venue, have a deeper understanding of the process and feel like there's a burnish on the work that comes from the privilege of installing it twice. There are 12 pieces in this body of work, one has sold and will be leaving the collection for its new home in Los Angeles.

I've only been to Juneau a handful of times, but never in the winter. These photos were taken at about 4:30 in the evening...not much different than Anchorage in terms of light this time of year, but for those of you at a lower latitude it might take some getting used to. The bright gallery was a welcome sight.

Astrid checking out her handwork. She helped make components for the piece, "Lamb." I paid her by the piece, not realizing she would be able to complete one traditional "yo-yo" form in 8 minutes. "Mom. I'm making WAY more money than when you pay me by the hour."

(Right. So, it's really hard to be 12 and have to come to your mom's "thing." AGAIN.)

Some pieces were hung differently in this space.

"Panoply."

Others were hung the same.

"Archers: A Personal History."

Light coming through the arrow holes in this piece. The leather words say, "When words failed, we launched arrows."

It still took several hands to install "River," which is 21 feet long.

I gave a talk and slide show on the evening of the opening about personal history, process and my cultural relationship to materials. I don't have a video of this, but I gave a recorded interview you can listen to here. You can also read a version on the Hand/Eye Magazine blog.

I'm excited to share news that the piece, "Descent," (below) was recently accepted into Fiber Art Now's Excellence in Fibers IV in the "Sculptural Works" category. The Anchorage Museum built the beautiful custom light table for it, featuring a diamond-shaped plexiglass window that fits perfectly below the sheer portions of the piece. The electrical cord is brilliantly hidden in the table leg.

Lastly, I led 2 fabulous (and hilarious) kid-filled workshops at the State Museum where we worked with old linens and inserted our own designs and embroideries into the existing handwork, making this old cloth 100% rescued and 100% our own. Their enthusiasm was over-the-top fun to be with.

Stealing a seat before opening night (the first time I'd sat down all day!), with the beautiful community art project "Needle & Myth" hanging behind me. The piece was made by 72 women, men and children who came together in the fall & winter of 2018 to celebrate the women in their lives.

"Needle & Myth," vintage handkerchiefs, silk organza, embedded found objects.

My gratitude to the many, many people who came together and made this second exhibition and the pieces within it possible. I'm fully aware my work would not exist in this form without the generous donations of rescued or abandoned women's handwork. While the majority of the makers are Unknown and much of their work has gone uncelebrated, I love to think the hours they spent in the making way back when kept those mothers, aunts and grandmothers grounded and sane. I know it's done this for me.

This post is going out right before this exhibition wraps up on February 9, 2019. We'd love for it to come to a venue near you and the Anchorage Museum and I are diligently working on this.

Fingers crossed!

One year ago on this blog:

I AM INUIT exhibition at the Anchorage Museum.

Two years ago on this blog:

A history of relics.

Three years ago on this blog:

Finer.

For more of my work, best to follow me on Instagram: @amymeissnerartist

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Inheritance: makers. memory. myth.

5/18/2018

24 Comments

Amy Meissner | textile art | from the post Inheritance: makers. memory. myth. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/inheritance-makers-memory-myth

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.

24 Comments

The 27th boxes of mystery.

1/31/2018

7 Comments

Amy Meissner, textile artist. | From The 27th boxes of mystery. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/the-27th-boxes-of-mystery

Handmade clay buttons. Circa: 1977.

I "officially" stopped collecting boxes of mystery for the Inheritance Project a long time ago. Like, September-30th-2016-long-time ago. But in the way I always accepted old cloth before the Project became a thing, I still accept it now.

At the end of this post is a sneak peek at one of the pieces from the Inheritance Project body of work, and when I send out the next newsletter, I'll give another peek there. I just finished a large piece yesterday and I'm on the home stretch for a May exhibition at the Anchorage Museum.

Meanwhile, a deep and belated thank you to the next two Vintage Linen Contributors to the Inheritance Project. These items were delivered this fall.

Life Essence.

Many Contributors to this project are artists, and Anchorage-based Carol Lambert is no exception. I met Carol two years ago, when we were both curated into a small group show at Alaska Pacific University called Fragments of Time. She is a fine artist -- draws, paints, and is someone whose eye seeks the details that flesh out the darker undercurrents of life: a severed bird wing, a bit of bone. Around Christmas, she opened her studio and offered years-worth of still life props to other artists and makers who could find them useful. Alas, I didn't make it to her open studio prop give away, but I'd already visited with her in my own studio this fall when she delivered culled fabrics and accoutrements. Of course, these items blended easily into my life, despite how long it's taken me to share them here. So long, in fact, that I've already used several yards of it (although the Canadian in me really still likes to think in meters). Thank you, Carol, for contributing to the Inheritance Project and for attending one of the Needle & Myth workshops at the Anchorage Museum this fall. It's been a delight to follow your work all this time.

You, too, can see Carol's paintings and drawings here, and/or follow Carol on Instagram: @carollambertarts.

Various linens and shantungs, some old, some a little newer.

Several yards of fluid wedding gown satin found in Carol's mother's mother's drawer, circa: pre-1969, unused (age-worn and gorgeous). An Irish linen sheet with a "B. Altman, New York" label. Various other linens and chunks of newer upholstery with crewel embroidery designs.

Orange silk, originally a skirt and may become one again. So gorgeous.

All the various trims and hem lace/tape we all collect, but rarely have use for in contemporary dressmaking projects. The bottom row (left features a length of sturdy handmade bobbin lace trim and a lace dickie (false blouse front), which I've since dyed charcoal grey.

Handmade clay buttons: Maker: a family member in her 20's; Circa, 1977; Origin, unknown. They came in that groovy star-covered box at the beginning of this post, featuring that US Bicentennial vibe. So good.

Teeny tiny petit point on a linen napkin/handkerchief. Not to be confused with a really big dime.

Matching embroidered linen tea towels. Circa, Origin, Maker: Unknown.

Arizona Hardscrabble.

Thank you to Dennis Anderson, one of two men who have contributed to the Inheritance Project. Dennis and I were put in contact through the International Quilt Study Center & Museum in Lincoln, Nebraska last fall. The quilt he contributed was made by his Great Grandmother, Hettie, on a Singer treadle sewing machine. I love this photo of her and have it on the wall in my studio. It's a source of great joy and defiant power.

Do not mess with this lady. Do not.

Hettie Colliie Nickell Harrison. Born 1873 at Str Lime Works, Lyon County KY. Now underwater as part of the creation of Lakes National Park.

"Please use the photograph to the fullest. I love that picture. My mother said that Hettie always dressed that way. The ranch house had a wind mill with a 100 gallon tank about 50 feet from the home. When I spent a week end there about 1949 they had running water in the kitchen. I don't know about a bathroom. They had an outhouse about 100 feet from the house. It was a one seater with the quarter moon cut out in the door. And HONEST To GOSH a Sears and Roebuck catalog toilet paper."

--Dennis Anderson, Contributor

Hettie collected Bull Durham tobacco pouches from her husband and the cowboys at neighboring ranches, using the cloth to make this quilt. It is sun faded and water stained, but I've already incorporated a baby quilt and another piece -- an unfinished embroidery from Olga Norris in England, with its own story of strength and defiance -- to complete "War Room," for exhibition this May. Below is a sneak peek. For those of you who follow me on Instagram, here's where those 2,000 tapestry needles landed.

"In that quilt is the love of the Anderson family. Hope you can find a place for it in your artwork." Dennis Anderson, Contributor.

"War Room," (46" x 62") Baby quilt, quilt, abandoned embroidery, domestic linens, foam, tapestry needles, 2017.

One year ago on this site:

The Thread Unraveled -- VM Art Gallery, Karachi Pakistan.

Two years ago on this site:

Broadsided.

Three years ago on this site:

Worth Keeping.

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6 Needle & Myth workshops.

12/4/2017

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Amy Meissner, textile artist | From the post 6 Needle & Myth workshops. | www.amymeissner.com/blog/6-needle-&-myth-workshops

"She played bridge, tennis, smoked and needlepoint. She thought Tang was a good source of Vitamin C. Those are things I remember about her. And she loved the Lord. Of all those things, her needlepoint is all that is left in the tangible world, but the rest must be inherited in another way."

Diana Weymar, Artist, Writer, Curator and Vintage Linen Contributor, describing her Grandmother in The 14th boxes of mystery.

How well do we know anyone, even people we see everyday?
And how can we possibly know people who've left us, especially if they never allowed us know them in the first place?
And then, the impossible task of knowing someone who remains unknown because history has failed to attribute her time, her marks.

We can gather our scraps.
We can pick through memory.
We can re-consider.
We can collaborate.
We can create a new mythology.

Last spring I received a Rasmuson Foundation project grant in support of the Inheritance Project. A portion of the grant allowed me to complete a special workshop series this fall at the Anchorage Museum; "Needle & Myth" was designed as five, 2-hour sessions for small work groups of artists, makers, museum members and the public, with a 6th session added at the end. The work generated in these work sessions will become a large community piece installed in May with the exhibition Inheritance: makers. memory. myth. My gratitude to the Rasmuson Foundation for the gift of time, to the Anchorage Museum for the gift of support and space.

I originally prepared 45 or 50 panels, we completed 80.

Over 70 people participated. My deepest gratitude goes to them.

I asked registrants to consider the following prompt before arriving: "She was ____." or "She is ____." This single word or short phrase was then embroidered onto a prepared panel, a linen handkerchief mounted on sheer silk organza. (I received around 85 hankies during the crowdsourcing portion of the Inheritance Project. One Contributor sent me her entire collection of 33). I also asked participants to bring a small, lightweight object, which we then mounted or embedded between the cloth layers. The sheer panels are numbered, and when hung together begin to form a more complete picture of a complex woman, of ourselves.

"...harlot, always making things beautiful, an artist mother, brave, powerful, powerless, rooted, tough as nails, sew much love, too attached, happiness, iguapaeterei, je brule, the matriarch, my only comfort, worth the time, unknown, clever, a weather pattern..."

When was the last time you spent a full two hours considering a handful of words? Hand stitching forces you to slow and consider a needle's placement to achieve a certain curve or line, but this is a small technical thing. What I hoped this project would do was create a 2-hour space to honor memory -- some of it pleasant, some of it painful.

"...These handkerchiefs have probably found their way to countless libraries, golf courses, and trips both across the country and abroad. These everyday items wear the lives of my grandparents."

Kathleen Probst, Artist and Vintage Linen Contributor, fromThe 18th boxes of mystery.

"...daring and original, once mine, into thy hands, everything, graphic, judgmental, a hearty babushka, one of those mean-mean-mean girls, paying attention, the only one, brave, busy, patient, fearless, the tie that binds, a red head, our treasure (hunter), happy, enough, a survivor, tall, an artisan..."

Five men attended. And two children. Six languages are represented.

When one woman told the story of her beautiful mother's two abusive marriages, the entire room fell silent. When another woman shared her mother-in-law's journey from China to Peru to the US with 10 children in tow, the same thing happened. And again, when a woman explained how she'd created the panel for herself, her mother-in-law and the four babies they'd lost. When another woman furtively shared that her mother sometimes stole things, "maybe just a little," we laughed, but then retreated inwards to consider this. Not to judge, but consider. Because aren't we all guilty?

And aren't we -- aren't women -- all worthy of awe?

The safety of a space like this is generated when a task is on the table. No one has to make eye contact with storytellers, no one has to respond directly. There is a reason why the tradition of gathering for handwork has remained so strong for generations.

"...resilient, authentic, finding herself, a complex woman, covered in glitter and dancing like a fiend, ancestral, a smoother of roughness, a Kansas City girl, heartbroken, trouble, delightful, beautifully strong, beautifully hidden, so much more than I ever knew, far from home, grieving, an oasis, told to be quiet, an artist, mom..."

After the workshops, one of the participants sent a link to this TED Talk. It put a lot of things into perspective and gave a broader language for what I was, and am, trying to do. Perhaps it explains why so many people came, sometimes more than once, to such quiet gatherings.

"...enough, unknowingly lonely, frail, gentle, kind, in my heart, still full of wonder, my very first sewing role model and idol, so witty, a twin, a mother trucker, bright, my rock, mother, a sailboat captain, a birdie, mujer mexicana migrante, a fairy with strong wishes, love, a stout woman, persistent...."

I'm now in the process of finishing: taking up the stitches left undone, considering the panel order, planning their mount. I've been asked many times if this will be a quilt. It will not. I can tell you it will suspend and hope viewers will be able to journey around each piece, because the messy b-sides are just as valid as all those pretty facades.

Maybe more so.

One year ago on this blog:

How to raise a dragon.

Two years ago on this blog:

The fourth boxes of mystery.

Three years ago on this blog:

How to be better.

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The 26th boxes of mystery.

9/19/2017

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This Inheritance Project gratitude post is overdue; three of these “boxes of mystery” came over the summer and now we’re hurtling towards the equinox. But. Each contributor already received a thank you card and a handmade gift…I think I’m up to 70 of those teeny tiny doilies…so this post is the bigger thank you I share with the world.

Some of last year's teeny tiny doilies.

First, here’s a little update: I stopped officially accepting items for the Inheritance Project a year ago, after 13 months of receiving crowd-sourced domestic linens from people all over the world (except this didn’t mean shipments stopped coming). I’ve been working steadily all this time and so many incredible opportunities have arisen from this project’s raw material:

work accepted into Quilt National 2017
a Rasmuson Foundation Individual Artist Award Project Grant
a Sustainable Arts Foundation Grant
a pop-up studio a few months ago and a forthcoming solo exhibition at the Anchorage Museum (May – Sept. 2018)
another at the new Alaska State Museum in Juneau (Dec. 2017 – Feb. 2018)
a series of workshops at the Anchorage Museum this fall and winter (more on that to come)
and most importantly, incredible connections, correspondence and friendships with contributors and interested people from all over the world.

For those of us who work with cloth, and older cloth in particular, the pull is powerful. It's no surprise we somehow find each other.

Tante Sophie et Cie.

Thank you Ina Braun from Tante Sophie et Cie in Denville, New Jersey, for the lovely box of mystery. Like many of us, Ina has been hanging onto these items for a long time – some she made, some she found, some belonged to various women in her life.

“They are all old…unknown makers…found…treasured…released for your making.”

Makers: Unknown, Origin: Unknown, Circa: Unknown

Maker: Unknown, Origin: Unknown, Circa: Unknown.

Maker: Ina Braun, Origin: New Jersey, Circa: 1990's.

Makers: Unknown, Origin: Germany, Circa: early 1900's.

Origin: Unknown, perhaps belonged to a Great Aunt on Ina's Mother's side, Circa: Unknown.

Independence Day.

Anchorage doesn't launch big fireworks displays for July 4th celebrations – it’s too light at night, too close to Solstice (I know, that’s a crazy thing), and our family is usually in Prince William Sound so I haven’t been to a July 4th house party in years. (We do stand in snowbanks to watch fireworks through steamy breath on New Year’s Eve and again for the annual winter Fur Rendezvous though, and last year the northern lights totally out-performed the explosions one night, so there’s a little more Alaska craziness for you). This summer, we did make it to our friends, the Kingry’s, who brew incredible beer and throw a sweet summer gathering, complete with screaming kids, sparklers in broad daylight and out of control garden hoses. It’s the kind of party where, when another friend slips you a handful of doilies from a neighbor who was about to toss them and it feels a little like a drug deal, no one really notices.

Anonymous

Nope. I can’t tell you where these incredible quilts came from. I also can’t tell you who made them, or when. All I can say here is thank you. Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for taking the time to ship these all the way to Alaska. Thank you for seeing something in my body of work, and I hope we can continue the conversation.

Makers: Unknown, Origins: Unknown, Circa: Unknown.

New Friend.

Thank you Marcia Cohen, for contacting me out of the blue after reading the interview I did with Alex Teplitzky for the Creative Capital blog, for requesting long distance Alaskan summer travel advice, for agreeing to meet me at the Anchorage Museum between your epic trips to Denali and Prince William Sound, for sharing fabulous stories and for this gorgeous embroidered handkerchief featuring the teeniest embroidery stitches I’ve ever seen. Marcia is an artist and part of September’s group show here in Anchorage at the International Gallery of Contemporary Art. She is also a professor of Foundation Studies at the Savannah College of Art and Design.

In an hour and a half, we talked about everyone from Kara Walker to Radcliffe Bailey to Sharon Louden to Rudolf Steiner. It was a 6-degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon conversation and one I wish could have continued for another 8 hours. When I get down to Atlanta some day, I’m looking you up, lady.

Maker: Unknown, Origin: Unknown, Circa: Unknown, Perhaps belonged to Marcia's mother.

For a complete list of ALL the boxes of mystery, click here. I’m in the process of distilling quotes from several years’ worth of correspondence…if you were a Contributor, I may be contacting you to get your permission to use your words in some capacity. (Remaining anonymous is ok). To experience all the voices in a single stream is incredible.

One year ago on this blog:

Hard won.

Two years ago on this blog:

The stolen collection.

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Inheritance: makers. memory. myth. travels to Juneau, Alaska.

One year ago on this blog:

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Three years ago on this blog:

Inheritance: makers. memory. myth.

1 year ago on this blog:

2 years ago on this blog:

3 years ago on this blog:

The 27th boxes of mystery.

Life Essence.

Arizona Hardscrabble.

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Two years ago on this site:

Three years ago on this site:

6 Needle & Myth workshops.

One year ago on this blog:

Two years ago on this blog:

Three years ago on this blog:

The 26th boxes of mystery.

Tante Sophie et Cie.

Independence Day.

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Inheritance: makers. memory. myth. travels to Juneau, Alaska.

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Inheritance: makers. memory. myth.

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The 27th boxes of mystery.

Life Essence.

Arizona Hardscrabble.

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6 Needle & Myth workshops.

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The 26th boxes of mystery.

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Independence Day.

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