Carol Larson - textile artist

I have been awake for nearly 3 hours. A few brief thoughts about my father’s descent into dementia led to other thoughts and more thoughts and more and more and more, until I had a brainache. All my usual visualizations did not work in bringing me out of mind, back to spirit. So I gave up and got up.

Twice this summer I have given great thought to why I am making art? And more specifically why I am exhibiting said art. If this year in my artist’s life were to have a theme, it would be disapproval.

I started the year in the office of our C.P.A. being told that because I do not have consistent income (what artist does?), in the eyes of the IRS, I am not a legitimate business; which in shorthand means all the trips I took this year relative to my art were not on John Q. Taxpayer. Of course, this only made me incredibly hostile towards those who were able to write-off their trips; especially after they confide that they too are not making a profit.

From there I entered my work into 5 or 6 juried exhibits, wrote a magazine article and submitted images to two publications. All except one exhibit were denied. Yesterday, frosting was added to the cake when one publication sent back my CD with image intact. Why would I want that? Clearly, someone thinks a CD with burned images is as valuable as slides? NOT! I shredded it.

So this all brings me back to why am I doing this? I can say jurying is subjective only so many times!

Initially, I was making art because I had to, and because I was making up for 30 years of weekend art-making; when after everything else was done, maybe I could get into the studio and play. A lot of maybes added up to never, and so I spent days, weeks, months immersed in the passion I felt for the artwork.

All along, I knew my goal was to make it. What happened to it beyond that, was not of my concern. As I grew as an artist, I expanded my goal; to get my work out into the world as a beautification measure! And I have had great success with that. Joining CFA was a central part in that it provided me discipline and encouraged me to get the work done.

Now, I find I don’t make as much work. I have become intimidated by what to do with all this work? While I work hard at decluttering my home and my life, my quilts stack up like cordwood. I don’t like that it depreciates faster than a new car out of the showroom. I don’t like that I make a piece for one exhibit and it sits in the closet for the rest of its natural life. I don’t like that the people who seem to make it in this industry are those who have developed a style, where every single piece looks like every other piece. If I wanted to do the same thing, day in, day out, I would go back to a desk job. I don’t like that gallery staff sticks their nose up at fiber. I don’t like that people will love a fiber piece but not buy it because they don’t know how they will clean it. How do they clean their paintings?

I don’t like the constant pressure to develop something new and cutting edge; and what is that anyway? Hasn’t everything been done before? Well, I suppose not. I mean somebody decided one day to paint the Tyvek envelope their jeans arrived in from Lands End, and then it accidentally got too close to the iron and oops, they created cutting edge.

Somewhere in putting my work out there I have become attached to the outcome, which is always deadly, in all areas of life. Rather than focus on all the negatives in regard to artmaking, I try to focus on the positives. I make it because I love to do it.

I was raised in a home where I had no voice so I learned how to work really hard and be competent. I did not learn how to succeed, nor be a leader nor a trend setter. I did not learn to even be an individual, which I managed to teach myself through adulthood.

It is really important for me to remember this. The recipe for my success is in making the art I want to make, exhibiting it, selling when possible, and just enjoying the journey. All this jockeying for position is making me insane.

Today I took my 83 yr old father to the neurologist, along with his devoted significant other. They have been dating for nearly 12 years and bicker like any two old married folks of their generation, but clearly care very much for each other. They never married because it would foul up their individual estates!

We learned the root cause of his dementia and possibilities for stabilization. We learned it can be a precursor to Alzheimer’s and we learned we all will get it, if we live long enough. People are living so long their brains are misfiring. Most baby boomers have already experienced senior moments. My daughter often says to me you already told me that!

I have been a bit mystified that he had gotten so bad without my knowing it; aside from the fact that he believes to talk about his health is complaining. Granted I don’t see him often and we have absolutely nothing in common. He has never forgiven me for dropping out of college and I struggle with his role in my surgeries.

And yet, in spite of our differences, I was able to rise to the occasion and be the advocate my father needed. I thought the timing of it most interesting; how as I am laying the TallGirl Series to rest, I now can deal with my father objectively. He really is a kind old man, just incredibly judgmental. At times the apple has not fallen far from the tree.

The distraction was another thing. I am so deeply engrossed in my work right now and it was a challenge to switch to the other side of my brain, hit the freeways and deal with the healthcare system. I had a bit of a chuckle today though. Yesterday I overdid my cycling at the gym and today my right hip is barely functional. As I hobbled around the medical clinic with my father, I realized how well I, at 59 fit in with the geriatric crowd! Now isn’t that a Kodak moment?!

I started the Tall Girl Series with a vision. I wanted to get the story out of my body and onto cloth. What was to become of it after that has continually changed.

I asked a fellow artist whose work and accomplishments I admired to mentor me on the project. We had great meetings, which of course involved lunch. I credit Marion Coleman largely with my getting on the ball and doing the work.

As many artists, and humans are wont to do, I earned a masters in procrastination. I thought about doing the work for at least two years before I even spoke to Marion about starting it.

Originally, I had ideas for 60 pieces of work! It was truly a divine moment yesterday, when I read through the list of headings and sub-headings and discovered that indeed with 11 pieces, I had covered each subject; yet I had not looked at the list since I first wrote it!

Because I do want to exhibit this work, either as individual pieces, theme appropriate, or as a solo exhibit, I want to make certain that the package is complete, with no obvious holes in subject matter. It seems I am nearly there. I just finished the most powerful piece of all Surgery Vs. Suicide, You Decide, am starting a current day TG piece and last night was growing another in my head while trying to sleep.

I keep saying I am done, yet ideas still bloom. I pretty much assume the hard work is done and the rest of this is residual effect, and may quite honestly be the best work.

At last, I feel really good about these choices. I have vascillated,and often tried to convince myself otherwise. I keep coming back to the same place, so now I am at peace with it.

Exhibit the work and let it speak for itself. This story is not who I am; it is what has shaped me into who I am. One of the initial ideas was to use this body of work to mentor young girls. And yet I know I cannot keep on telling this story, for the rest of my days. I am so tired of it! There are many other ways I can mentor girls.

I still feel very protective of this tale. In designing the webpages, that is evident. I give a brief narration of each piece in a rather small font and do not provide a detail shot, as if I am trying to keep some of it for myself. I want to share with you, but I don’t want to give you too much, in essence. I will load the pages when the work is (nearly) complete!

The word tallgirl used to be a word I abhored. All my life people teased me about being tall, but the worst was this Chinese pharmacist at my first job who always addressed me as the tallgirl.. I kept telling him my name and he would say to other employees…give this to the tallgirl, or tell the tallgirl…;which of course dates me, because that would be illegal today!

I chose the tallgirl as the name for this blog, as my yahoo e-mail address, and as the series name. After all this time, I have befriended the tallgirl. She has grown into one strong woman. Tall Girls Rock!

I am on day three of a juice fast. I am a virgin juicer but have thought about it for a long time. Since I came back from Europe, and after the jetlag passed, I still felt tired, no energy, heavy, lack of motivation, just a general overall funk, so I decided to do a cleanse and see if I could crack through it.

Voila! Three days into it and I have lost weight, I have energy, the sugar cravings have dissipated, fine line wrinkles have suddenly appeared on my face, as fat recedes. And I have had some major epiphanies about my art and where I am going with it.

Mostly, I have come to terms with being really sick and tired of the TG story, which tells me in essence that I have healed. It may weave threads throughout my work in the future, but I don’t imagine it will be an expanding body of work, into itself.

Synchronistically, I learned this week that my father was diagnosed with dementia over three months ago. After I got past the hurt of not being told by my siblings, I have been able to access my higher self and become proactive. I will go to the doctor with him next week to find out about prognosis, quality of life issues, etc.

This alters my fasting schedule a bit as I will need to be back to regular food by Monday! And post-fast needs to be two days of baby food consistency eating, which I doubt my father needs to re-live.

So, already I highly recommend juicing for the weight lifted, physically and emotionally; as well as the spiritual energy zipping through my body once more.

The piece above is from the TG Series and is titled “zipped lips.” It was inspired by the family taboo of speaking of health related issues. Now, it seems ironic to me that it applies both to my surgeries and to my father’s medical condition.

This is one of those before and after posts. The first piece is the original work and the second has been screenprinted with four shades of blues-greens, including an incredibly old and decripid Jacquard metallic black, that had nearly no black left but a lot of metallic. So now the water sparkles! It is VERY cool, although you probably cannot see this in the after shot.

This piece was 3rd in my series of 4 (of which I have yet to start #4) of torn silks overlaid and sewn over (in the case) ugly handpainted fabric. My inspiration was the wake left by a cruise ship plying the Pacific. Somewhere between when it was rejected for two exhibits and when I was picking my brain what to do for an upcoming CFA exhibit at PIQF, it hit me to paint it. So now it is over the edge times two; the ripped, torn and painted piece and over the edge of the rail onboard the Dawn Princess bound for Mexico!

Alas, I am just too clever for my own good, but I don’t care because that is now off my plate, and I don;t have to think about it anymore.

As far as the soup part, I began a juice fast today. I hope to hang with it for a week, although the body is wont to do what the body is wont to do. Actually I began on Saturday as I ate only cold veggies and salads for the weekend. My head has hurt since Saturday from the withdrawal from the coveted 70% bittersweet extra dark chocolate that is supposed to be so good for my heart!

I decided to do this now, because summer is slow, because my energy is so low, because today I weigh three pounds less than the morning I delivered my daughter 27 years ago, and because I take 30+/- supplements every morning.

Already I feel a difference, I rode farther at the gym on the bicycle; when I was making my lunch, the juicer was inoperable. I had forgotten to put the blade back in, after washing it!!! Or, after lunch I decided I should keep a food diary and could not remember what all I put in the breakfast juice! Yikes, it was 5 hours ago. Good thing I am not performing surgery or buying property today!

I was going to title this, the dog wins…or who has the bigger brain, but I am seriously trying to have a positive attitude about this challenge, presented by an otherwise adorable pooch.

Millie, being of the female canine variety has taken to serious nesting in my studio, when I am not in it, and someone leaves the door open. She has a dedicated rug in the studio, for those days when she is invited in.

Last night, the hints were evident of a recent nesting, as I was looking for a b/w quarter yard to make up the last 9″ of a backing. My former arrangement of b/w fabrics with fats, and 1/4 yd cuts in a bin and the folded larger cuts were all mixed up. And the colorful Marimekko I bought in Finland was neatly folded in the stack of large pieces of b/w.

I figured out that husband dearest had refolded all the yardage after Millie had pulled it off the shelf, and nestled in, while I was out of town overnight. Of course he had no clue as to my filing system, so he had mixed the Marimekko in with the b/w, which gave him away!

Then I wondered why the door was left open when I had shut it when I left. Alas, I figured he had come in to see who was on the answering machine (it was me) after ignoring the phone, when I called from the coast with an important question. Part of being a good wife is being a good detective!

As I re-arranged the b/w to my satisfaction, I noticed too much short black hair on the fabric. EEEEW! And that was the last straw. If you can’t teach old dogs new tricks, maybe you can outsmart them; after all, who has the larger brain?

So I spent last evening, re-arranging the lower rows of the studio wall cubbies. I put all the larger cuts of fabric up high and the books on the floor level. I sorted all the batiks and pulled larger cuts out for the high shelves. I put all my own hand-dyed, screen-printed fabrics on high.

The commercial fabrics are all snugged away in IKEA bins . I could ideally move all the dyed/batik fabric into bins also, but DH built the wall shelving thirty years ago and I know would take personal offense at the mere suggestion, that we abandon the cubbies and shop IKEA. One has to choose one’s battles. I choose to take on the dog on this issue, but not the husband!

I hate that when I want a book I have to stand on my head, but I hate dog hair on the fabric, more. I also shoved two bags of Japanese fabric remnants and the slinkier stuff into a dog level shelf, as if to dare her to pull it out and sleep on it.

In hindsight, it may have been easier to move the answering machine.

I had a whirlwind overnight trip to the central California coast this weekend, with my daughter. I went to attend yet another gallery reception, for the Santa Cruz Art League where my work was juried into their annual Fiber Art exhibit. The really fun part of it was many friends, new and old had work in this very cutting edge exhibit, as well as a wonderful fashion show of amazing reverse applique and pieced garments.

Through her work connections, my daughter got us a comped condo at a 5 star resort. We should have stayed two nights but instead, we just crammed a lot of living into 24 hours…

This morning we went to a friend’s home and studio in the redwoods for brunch, and were joined by another who had ventured to Finland with us. It is just so good to see where people live and work. Her wonderful house with big picture windows, skylights, lots of vintage quilts on furniture and collections, especially rabbits, makes one feel as if they are in a treehouse, in the redwoods. Her studio was a treasure trove and she had the greatest yarn display ever. She had those plastic shoe hangers over three doors, displaying yarn. Doesn’t it look yummy? A totally zen place to live!

The subject of blogs came up and neither of my artist friends could understand why anyone would want to write, or further read a blog; that it makes the writer’s life so transparent, etc. I tried to defend my own blogging. I blog because it is like a conversation with a friend (well, have one in person, then); I communicate better in written format than spoken word (talk more); it is cathartic for me, I figure out things when I write (go to therapy)…no they didn’t say that, but they could have as they were adamant about how unnecessary, transparent, disgusting, invasive, and fruitless blogs are.

I am still not convinced. I guess I could write all this stuff to myself, put it in binders to be shredded on my demise. Who knows, it really is just another example of how different we human species are; as are our needs for connection.