Jennifer Hammond Landau: Artist in felted wool

Written Wednesday night:

This morning Mary Kaye and I drove to an art quilt meeting (SAQA of Northern California and Northern Nevada) in Walnut Creek, CA. We passed burnt hills and drove through smoke -- and then the scenery looked “normal” again. 

At the meeting, artist Jennifer Hammond Landau led us along the creative path of her life so far -- she has a prevailing interest in wool, from the nettle-filled fluffy stuff right off the animal's back to her refined felted wool pieces. 

Love,

k

Jennifer Hammond Landau

burnt hills

 Next three photos show Jennifer Hammond Landau's work and material.

Next three photos show work of others at the meeting.

Painted on iPad, then printed and quilted

Combined processes: Printing and piecing

Or was that paint on top? I can't remember

3-D

Witches or goddesses?

Art Quilts 90 minutes from home

Written last night:

Dear Friends, 

Today I drove 90 minutes southwest to Danville, where there was an art quilt meeting. I kind of forced myself to go — told myself I’m not too interested, etc. I’m glad I went, and not just for the notable artists I met, but even more because finally — finally! — I realize that I’m not a visitor here, who checks things out from a distance. I live here. I’m a Californian. And to me that means being comfortable with I-80 and 680 and the bridges at Benicia and all the ships below — and playing the highway’s speed-up/slow down rhythm like I know the song. 

Love,

k

I will add names if you tell me -- I am just getting to know everybody

Newly familiar Napa

Written last night:
Dear Friends

It’s only an hour to Napa. I drove there early this foggy morning for an art quilt workshop, and was surprised at the brisk 7 a.m. Sunday traffic. All of us heading to church!

I was wondering if I’d see any fire damage in the hills on my way — None! (“Because of the rain, the foliage has come back strong right away,” one woman said.) Downtown Napa along the river looked the same as it did when I visited last summer. I’m sure I’d see more burnt-out places farther north and west. One woman who lives in the area said they were exiled from home for a week, then returned to a place that still reeks of smoke, feeling grateful and also angry  — at PG & E (the power company that many blame for sparks and dry brush near their lines.)  I also discovered that Napa is a plain little town with a strong Mexican edge and a center that caters to tourists. And of course, I walked across the bridge over the Napa River.

I love to be getting to know my home state!

Love,

k

Art Expanding: Poetry + Quilt + More

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

I’ve been meaning to explore Brickhouse, an art complex the next neighborhood up, which is called Oak Park. I guess it is the resurgence of a declining area, with coffee shop and brewery, etc. What drew me was the poetry and the quilt exhibit — both in the same building this morning.

I got lost because there are diagonal streets as well as the grid I’ve internalized, so I circled the block several times before stopping. Nothing seemed to be going on — I mean, 10 a.m. on a Sunday? And I didn’t want to be this gray-haired lady walking where I shouldn’t be. 

But it is exactly where I should be — an expansive, tall-walled gallery that shows quilts better than anywhere I remember, with a garden/patio beyond, where a man was at a table reading. In a side room a small group was preparing to record a Coffee and Poets podcast interview with the poet Frances Kakugawa  I stayed for that, and then saw the African American History Legacy Juried Quilt Exhibition, highlighting two quilts by Alice Beasley. (Check out her photo — the lenses of her rimless glasses are two different shapes.) The Brickhouse is another place to love in Sacramento.

Love,

k

Frances Kakugawa answers an audience question

Miles Ahead 

Miles Davis by Alice Beasley

Unidentified Black Male

Alice Beasley

Power to the People

Rosita Thomas

Forget the quilts -- Let's go to Napa!

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

Today's plan was to go to an art quilt meeting in Walnut Grove with my friend Mary Kaye. She couldn’t pick me up easily because police cars blocked some streets by the Capitol to free them for a walk — I still have to look up what the walk was for. Anyway, she did finally make it. 

Next we got onto I-80, and it was all mucked up because of construction (something involving a bridge — they’re working nights and weekends.) Cars were barely moving. After many stops and starts and turns and trials of alternate routes we decided, “Forget the quilts — Let’s go to Napa!”

We turned our backs on traffic and took the back roads. Rolling hills turned to curves, sharper curves, "don’t look over the edge" curves. It was gorgeous. Acres of grapes, golden grass, and nut orchards (Yes, they call them orchards, not groves, says Mary Kaye, who grew up on a Southern California almond orchard.)

We ended up in Napa (pop. 76,900) — a bigger town than Yountville or St. Helena, the other wine destinations I’ve visited. We chose a place for lunch because it had a parking spot out front. Inside there was live music, long, patient lines, and tempting baked goods. We stopped there by happenstance, but intense study couldn’t have found a better restaurant: Alexis Baking Company.

I insisted we couldn’t come back from Napa without a bottle of wine — so we stopped at a small wine tasting room at a crossroads in the countryside. There was an antique shop across the street, with rusting tractors out front, and next door was a restaurant with many patrons. 

I didn’t know what to expect — a long bar? little tables with samples in paper cups?  something involving a spittoon so you can swish and enjoy many sips? 

Perhaps they’re all different, but this tasting room (Vezér Family Vineyard) had the dim, cozy feel of a club or game room, with leather chairs and sofas and a small bar where a friendly tender offered tastes. You paid for tasting, but it was credited to the price of a bottle, I think. It all happened so quickly that I’m not sure. I had two tastes. Then I bought a bottle of red wine, which I’ve hidden in the cupboard by the stove. I’ve got a lot to learn.

Today turned out better than planned. We laughed all the way back home.

Love,

k

Walnut trees

I discover a bookish treasure

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

Today was a jumble of cleaning and exploring Sacramento. One thing led to another: I checked out the Avid Reader bookstore at their new place (it was an old tire store, I think) on Broadway, and there I learned about an art quilt exhibit at the McClatchy Library nearby. So I headed over and was charmed — by the quilts and by the library itself. It’s in a big old house on the edge of the downtown grid. It belonged to the McClatchy family (of the McClatchy newspaper chain, including the Sacramento Bee). There are books all over, of course, but also computers, sofas and even a “quiet room” where no tech is allowed. It has to be the coziest library I’ve ever visited. I have found a little personal treasure!

Love,

k

A reading niche in the stairway

(This is pleasant, but the couches and easy chairs look softer.)

Walk a mile in her shoes

Pixieladies

Field of Dreams

Jan Soules

Still learning

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

I am beginning to feel at home here. Zing and I have worn paths to the Safeway and the Natural Foods Co-op, and I know when the Farmers markets are open and I’ve made some friends, and I know which gas station is most convenient, and where to get my car washed and which street lanes become right turn only and how to turn a key in a lock without breaking it, and how to use a FOB to open a door (What’s a FOB? you ask? It’s a magic circle that you press against some numbers and it unlocks a door.), and which streets are one-way, and which hours to avoid driving in midtown, and how to say NO to a homeless man, and how to use earbuds, and when to talk to someone in the elevator and when to be silent, and which stores welcome dogs, and what time I-80 clogs up and …. 

… and there’s still so much to learn!

At first I was afraid to drive down the street, and now I’m thinking about driving to San Jose. It happens in steps: First, explore with someone else, and then drive alone. I might explore by bus or train, and then drive myself. Today it was Danville, not too far from Berkeley, for a SAQA (Studio Art Quilt Associates) meeting. Mary Kaye drove. The topic was Writing an Artist Statement, and I could rave on and on about the group, but I’m falling asleep!

Love,

k

A Northern California SAQA member showed us a piece of her pojaki, 

hand-sewn traditional Korean patchwork

Name your own BEAUTY

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

It was a glum-weather day, and everybody is waiting for a big wind storm tomorrow afternoon. Someone told me this is the worst weather around here for many years. 

I can barely remember a highlight from this rainy, stay-inside day. I went to Arden Fair Mall, close by, because Mary told me I need something comfy to wear traveling, so I can sleep on the red-eye flight to Miami Wednesday night. She suggested tights and a long sweater. I know, I know — everyone is wearing tights now, been doing it for years, even people with sagging butts (not you, Mary!) I did buy some today at Nordstrom’s, and a pair of hush puppies to wear with them. I like the tights, I like the shoes, I like my long green sweater … but I’ll never wear them together! As you know, I’ve been thinking about how we can each define our own beauty, no need to follow society’s rules… but that also means we can say No Way to a basically good idea that’s not right for us. Kind of sad to admit that tights as pants don’t work for me. (There was a moment when I would have loved them.) However, Mary did get me thinking, nudged me out of my rut. I’m going to wear those tights with something! Thanks, Mary!

Speaking of defining our own beauty — one of the reasons I love Nordstrom’s is that they have big art everywhere. Mostly paintings, in every style. I often go up close to examine the  layers, or the way the canvas is placed inside the frame. It all looks rather formal, of course. But today in one of the dressing rooms I saw a big piece of fabric (maybe muslin, maybe canvas), all dripped with paint, and it was simply tacked to the wall behind a couch. Looked like art to me, relaxed and energetic at the same time. I think I’ll make something like that. 

We art quilters often hear the advice, “If you want to sell it, put a frame on it.” We tend to be apologetic about the flexibility, foldability of our work. We don’t want it to be considered a bedspread or, God forbid, a dishcloth! So we stiffen it, frame it, even put it under glass, sometimes sacrificing the very essence of the work. That’s why the lively painting  simply tacked to the wall caught my attention today.

Other than that, the day is a blur.

Love,

k

Happy Heart -- not a bad start!

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

We’re off into the new year! I meant to to do nothing all day long, but failed. Whatever little things I accomplished were easy, partly because I’m getting a cold, and you know how that separates your head from reality. Best was a long walk-talk with Mary; she in the Ohio woods and me (and Zing) in the city, from 5th Street to 23rd Street and back. Ouch! my knee hurts! It didn’t hurt at the time, though — definitely worth it!

In spite of myself I accomplished a couple things I’d been putting off for months. Believe it or not, I think I copied a TV program — Sherlock, which starts tonight. Steph showed me how months ago, but I never followed up. I think I remember, though. Thanks, Steph!

And with three days left before the deadline, I entered my painted quilt Happy Heart in the Sacred Threads national competition. Whether or not I get into the show, my application means I’m back in the art quilt community. That part of me died for a few months. I finished the quilt earlier in 2016, so you may have seen it, but here’s my explanation of how I made it and how it fits into my spiritual journey (which is what the application asks). 

Our Florida home was surrounded by birds and blossoms, so I was enchanted with flowers and wings. I sketched a pair of flowered wings, and when I put them together in a new way they created this heart, which I layered, stitched, and painted in happy colors. Happy Heart: it expressed just how I felt then, not so long ago. But soon after the quilt was finished my husband died suddenly and happiness fled. It's slowly returning, and whenever I'm overwhelmed with loss I look at this quilt and remember how happy he made me and how happy he still wants me to be.Love, k Happy Heart 30.5" x 36" Kona cotton on cotton duck, batting stitch,  acrylic paint

Mountains or hills?

Walnut Creek, CA

Written last night:

This morning I followed mountains west. Or maybe they were hills.  How is a flat-lander from Florida to know? I drove 90 minutes to Walnut Creek, CA, outside Oakland, where there was a regional meeting of art quilters. It was a chance to get to know the area and meet some people who share my inclinations.

Unlike the ocean, mountains show themselves way before you get there, so you can enjoy them longer. As I left Sacramento, they were a violet smudge up ahead. I thought it might stay that way, but in five minutes or so the edges began to sharpen up. Oh my! As you drive toward mountains they become real! I got all worried that I might be driving slanted soon. Thank goodness I grew up in hilly Steubenville, Ohio. It all came back to me: turn your wheels when you park on a hillside; that way you’ll tend toward the curb. And what else?? Quick! Where is my emergency brake? I had no idea! In flat Florida an emergency brake is a flourish, not a life-saving device. My heart was popping, and then, just in time, the road (I-80?) turned away from the high points. 

Then back. Is it a hill or a mountain up ahead? Oh, these were hills; Rosa and I were rolling on earth plump like mounds of bread dough, yeasty and golden, spotted with a few trees. 

Oh, no! Now mountains! Those sharp points! 

Thankfully, we veered away again, across a bridge over water deep enough for container ships. I marvel at the large imaginations that designed all I was passing through: fields and silos and tall buildings and apartments and farm stands selling peaches and cucumbers and tomatoes. 

Walnut Creek itself I must learn to love. It seems a manicured place. Several women at the church where the meeting was held said they are a “20-minute BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit)-ride from Berkeley.” So, I gather, it’s where ideas bloom. Glad to be here! 

Then, in the afternoon I returned to a still-messy place that feels like home. Zing was waiting for me and he hadn’t pee'd during all the hours I was gone. So he’s at home here too. We went for a walk and then I talked for a long time with my friend Pam. I fried some bread on my new stove and had a salad. Now I’m listening to opera (don’t ask me what!) and looking out the big window at the night and the scattered lights in the office building across the street. 

Good night!

Love,

K

Speakers discussed the Modern Quilt Movement
(above and below)

More than 50 members of
Studio Art Quilt Associates
 from northern California and Nevada met Saturday

Pati Fried, Cathy Miranker and Tara Faughnan, were speakers

(I think quilt detail above is by Tara Faughnan, but not certain)

Series: Looking for surprise

It's been a long time since I "started" a series of quilts. I had clear plans but got detoured by painting. I love it -- I've been painting every day but haven't made a quilt. Painting the way I do (the messy hands technique!) is forgiving, fun, and intuitive. If I don't like something, I can paint over it. This makes a rich, layered piece.  I can't plan how the end will look. This makes it surprising and fun. I don't expect all my paintings to satisfy me. Some are "mistakes" that lead to improvement.

Quilting, for me, is the opposite: You don't intuit, you measure and plan. You sure do hope the quilt turns out, because it takes so long to make it. It's satisfying, yes, but I've got to admit I like to paint better.

I want to make quilts, but I want them to surprise me. There are lots of "intuitive quilters" who lay down fabric as I do paint. This doesn't appeal to me. I must incorporate paint with my fabric.

Also -- I've learned another thing: I want to make art that speaks of my life. Flowers are gorgeous, but I love best the flowers and butterflies I've made recently; I learned of a friend who was cutting herself and she wrote of The Butterfly Project, an incentive to cease the self-destruction. I want to let my passions touch my art.

Flower Series 6: Success??

Bright flowers
12" x 12"
acrylic

I planned a series of quilts inspired by flowers, mandalas and the Brazilian artist Beatriz Milhazes. Months later I have a stack of acrylic paintings. One is a mandala, all have flowers, and  I see Milhazes in their layers and colors. My niece Gretchen got me started painting a pineapple for her. Since then I've painted on cotton, drew with stitch, and collaged with fabric and paint. But there is no series as planned.

Instead, I'm on a discovery trail and loving it. 

1. For inspiration, give me flowers -- they are more than mere petals and stems!
2. And give me paint to mess with. Yesterday I read about an artist who paints with his fingers, wearing plastic gloves. I'm more of a natural mess; I love my fingers all gooey with colors. (Paintbrushes also have a place. ) For me, precision is in the feel of the finished piece, not perfection according to plan. I must discover a way to make messy quilts, with undefined edges 
3. For now  I'll skip "meaningful" (or political) work. The world is such a tumble, but direct defiance is not my best response. (Embracing causes has not worked for me,  in either religion or journalism. Or art.)
4. I'm going to continue painting and sewing and looking and loving. Flowers and paint are not the end. They are leading me somewhere.

Flower series 5: Happy heart

Happy heart
32" x 36"
paint and stitch

I love Happy Heart!

Of course, there was a moment when I wanted to throw her away (her??) That happens.

I like how my original small flowered heart transforms dramatically when enlarged. I copied the original onto a transparency and enlarged it. using the overhead projector that Maureen so kindly insisted I keep. (Sure does come in handy, Maureen! Thank you!)

I drew the lines in pencil on white Kona cotton, lightly so the pencil wouldn't show on the finished piece.

Then I sewed over the lines with black thread, using free-motion stitching. It was miserable! Even if I blasted light on the piece, I could barely see the lines. Then I used Mark-B-Gone, with trepidation. It's as blue as this quilt! It's hard to believe the color will wash out with cold water. I tested it first. Still I worried my piece would be ruined by blue. Probably everyone who uses the stuff feels the same way at first.
Before quilt-drawing I layered the Kona with felt and white duck. (Yes, purists, I confess I used spray adhesive. I love it!) The thing is, that felt is wool. I love wool felt.

After  the design was all stitched in black -- my machine was like a drawing tool -- I held my breath and ran cold water over the piece. I held it over the bathtub, and in a flash the blue ran down the drain. I sighed big time! 

Alas, too soon! 

Did you know that wool felt shrinks in a second?? 

My quilt was all scrunched up. Lots of people do this on purpose, but I did it by accident. Suddenly my quilt was very QUILTY. The design was bumpy, thanks to shrinkage. I was sad. 

Then I was happy. I love it the texture!

After that, painting.

This, too, was a delight. I expected to be bored to death, coloring within the lines of my flowers. But it was peaceful and fun.

It helped that I had made a dozen preliminary drawings, mixing paint and then trying out this and that combination. 

It still needs at least stitching around the edges. Maybe a simple facing. 

But I have a happy heart.

** Series note: You are right, Ellen! veering from guidelines is the definition of art. My series is far from what I'd envisioned. It turns out I'm exploring paint-related quilting techniques, doing what's fun rather than following the rules I'd set for myself. It's still about flowers, quilting, and color, with Beatriz Milhazes as my distant teacher. A series, it turns out, can be exploration. Boundaries are for leaping.

detail
Happy Heart

Flower series 1: Paint, print, stitch -- stop!

I am not ready.

Not ready to make the series of quilts that I planned a month or so ago: square, precise, Milhazes-inspired mandala-like flowers and stripes in vibrant colors. (Sounds pretty, doesn't it?)

After many false starts, a few paintings, and 2 quilt-ish pieces, I have learned:

• I can't do precise. I like messy, or shall we say irregular?
• I seem to prefer square-ish to square.
• I don't like to do intensive thread painting. For example, below, I copied my painting Roses onto cotton and then adhered it to stable cotton duck. Ideally, I would cover the surface with stitch to mimic the paint colors. But no! I just don't enjoy it.

... and on the positive side, I learned:

• I lean toward an intuitive, even spiritual,  method, not necessarily the mandala style I'd planned.
• I love working on a single subject, in this case flowers. My pop-around brain benefits from focus. There is no end to what flowers can teach me of color, line, shape, mood, etc., etc.
• I love layering.
• I love colors. 
• I love stripes, even precise ones. (One of my hero-artists is stripe master Bridget Riley.)
• Most fun for me has been painting. I thought I was painting to become a better quilter, but I love painting for itself.

My style emerges.

For my next "series" I'm going to paint flowers freely, and experiment with painting on cotton, linen, and silk and combine that with stitch.

In addition to recording progress online, I'm taking notes the crazy way I did in graduate school: big and messy, sometimes upside down --  sitting on the floor and writing/drawing with colored markers on a newsprint pad. One page or more per project, no other rules.

It works for me!

Notes so far

Walking backward to a series

I have taken many steps in my series project -- most of them backward.
First, I pinned my plan to the design wall. The plan taunts me. It seems I've picked exactly what I cannot bring myself to do: inspired by Beatriz Milhazes, I have set out to make precise, geometry-inspired designs in square format, with palette and imagery based on Florida nature.

For my first piece, I picked a drawing in my (rectangular, 11" x 14") sketchbook. It is a watercolor, based on a sketch of flowers against the window blinds in my studio.

The blinds would work as stripes, which Milhazes uses so effectively.

 I traced the image, rearranging the blossoms just a bit. I went to Staples and enlarged and also minimized the flowers. I made tracings of these, then played with them on my design wall, where I had pinned a striped 19" x 19" square for my base. I rearranged them over and over, many times, many days, including just  before I went to bed and as soon as I got up. I added a vase, put stars on the stamens, and took a few photos when something seemed close to good. What I'm looking at now is what a bird would see if he approached the flower upside down. A hummingbird, maybe. No, no! don't let me add a hummingbird!

Milhazes color copies on right, my tracings on left, and trash can handy for many rejects

I also played with the colors of blinds and grass and sky.

What I have been able to do is stick to flowers. A series is supposed to concentrate your thoughts, so give me one point. All this time, I've been drawing and painting flowers, real and make-believe, exact and abstract.

It's not that I adore flowers (I like chocolate and butterflies and bridges better.), but flowers are teaching me so much about everything else: color and line and shadow and impact. I'm afraid I'm also learning I love messy edges and incomplete thoughts. Precision, as in Milhazes' art, drives me wild. Not when I look at it, but when I make it.

But it's true I learned how to cook intuitively by first following many recipes; and I trust my series project will give me the same kind of good grounding. I have the feeling that once I start cutting fabric, the series might practically make itself. I can hope.