recycled art – Boundless

September 11, 2015September 24, 2015

Monoprinted Muslin and Stitching

This work is being shown at a mid-way point.

Eco-dyed and monoprinted muslin with pearl cotton stitching.

One photo shows the stitches close up. I am fascinated with Sashiko, a Japanese backstitch style, but I have adapted it to my style. Tradition is good, but Bessesdotter employs non-traditional work because there is a deeper feeling of self expression that makes the art close to me.

I’m in love with the look of the perle cotton against the ragged eco-dyed muslin. The muslin was a scrap from dressmakers patterns and is being put to good use instead of throwing it away. My golden stitches remind me of a spiders web or perhaps a comet with a tail. The sewing is slow–deliberately slow–but not intentionally placed. It is more of a ‘let the needle find its path’ type of sewing. Nothing is planned here–all is spontaneous working of the threads and fabrics together.

The second photo shows the setup better—I’ve recently acquired a Q-Snap Hoop and an Edmunds standing frame. It is more comfortable to stitch on smaller project like this one which is about 30″ x 18″ piece of muslin.

Embroidery in my Q-Hoop frame set in an Edmunds brand standing wood frame. Perfect for stitching. Antique wood arm chair: leopard print.

September 8, 2015September 8, 2015

Eco-Dyed Scarves Slow Art

Spiraled silk stuffed with garden blooms, wrapped with copper wire

Deadheading annuals and perennials is no longer such a chore, now I look forward to gleaning the spent blooms to eco-dye fabrics that I can use to create intentionally embroidered objects.

Sunday I bundled a dozen silk fabrics with zinnias, hibiscus, maple leaves and some native Pennsylvania wildflower heads, with various tea leaves and spices, rolled them up tightly, wound into spirals and wrapped rightly with copper wire. Placing them into zipper bags with vinegar and then into a small washtub to wait…2 – 3 weeks before removing them and drying the fabrics which will then be ironed.

Its a hedgewitchy-alchemical process, the gathering, crushing the flowers, making these brews and the waiting. Its a slow process. And much slower than opening a tube of paint and squirting it out, blending and brushing it onto a canvas. It is spontaneous though and allows for much experimentation which I appreciate.

Waiting Marigolds

Wrapped Rose Petals

Red Cabbage Rose Hips

Locust Tree Nut Shells and Spices

Turmeric and Zinnias

A Dozen Working

This is part of an evolution that I am in—-slowing down—-making the art slowly, mentally absorbing the process documenting it. The waiting, wondering which blends will be favored and successful. When I woke this morning, I checked them first, as they reside in my bathtub, packed into a small red washtub, the aroma of flowers and spices hit me full in the face. What a pleasant way to make art.

Spirals are making their way into my work again, aboriginal and abstract, the essence of life, they are an image that seems to be often found in my art.

I’m using the red……

the essence of what connects as humans.

women to their children.

bloodlines.

The Red and The Blue.

Mitachondrial DNA.

Green. Life. Planet.

2015-08-08 10.26.55 — Couching silk/bamboo yarn onto a vintage linen napkin. Red threads were used traditionally in Red Work Embroidery and Turkey Work.

July 10, 2015September 25, 2015

Into the Now Nothingness

Like other Melusine’s I’m drawn to the woods, its not just the gloaming, but everything about the forest dwells in my heart.

The death-quiet, a merciless monument that I enter as a noisy intruder that I’m certain the residents resent. I imagine scurrliness messengers warble warnings, Shee-zeer! Shee-zeer! My imagination is more about me than I desire. I wish to be as Sleeping Beauty thinking they are noticing me. But they are more concerned with their tidy lives, made in instinct and lived moment to moment.

Quietly making my way along the tangled trees, brambles, briars and bracken I can pick out favored shelf fungus, crumbling lichens and indian pipes along the paths. There is delight in the decay as the forest makes itself over flourishing its broken down limb littered leaf-decayed floor.

There’s an aroma that lifts from damp leaves, moldy with ashey spots and black rip edges as they catch on my feet. Twining twisted vine twirl about me in a rage at the dying of the season.

A token of love

I bring man-made artificiality to the Nature. Diminutive in stature compared to the Nature, the human makes its mark in creating tawdry and putting a price on it.

We churn it, first in the making, then the marketing, the amassing and finally the discarding. We cannot dig our holes deep enough to contain the baubles. Steady streams run-off products and by-products and the empty worth trailing off into now-nothingness. Land. Ocean. Space. Will fill them all.