Thursday, November 01, 2007

Whew---that was easy (NOT)



A couple of months ago I committed to donating a piece to be auctioned off at a fund-raiser for the university arboretum here in Orlando. No sweat, I thought, I'll have lots of time to whip up something. Well, lah de dah and time flew by...last Sunday I finally thought to check the date and, YIKES, it was due in on Friday, Nov. 2!! OMG! Ack! Eeek! Time to come up with an idea and put the pedal to the metal. The sewing machine pedal, that is. Since the fundraiser was for the UCF Arboretum I reasoned that the piece had to be botanical. So...I based my design on some evening photos that I took recently of a night blooming Brugmansia or Angel's Trumpet we have in our yard (see pic to the right; sorry its a little dark). OK, too many flowers, I decided to limit it to 3 in my piece but I loved the black background and the shapes and color of the flowers. Well, I have created, cut, fused, sewn and quilted like the wind and the piece is done--just in time for me to take it in tomorrow. Whew! While such a deadline did put the pressure on (which I didn't like) it did also jump-start a good creative flow (LOVE that). I'd finished a small astronimcal piece the week before and have another in the works to finish tomorrow as well. So check out my galleries soon (botanical and astronomical) for those 3 newbies. And if I really get my act together, I'll post new pictures of me, too. (I have recently achieved my weight loss goal, and who wants old fat pictures on their web-site??). Well, I'll never procrastinate like THAT again. My fingers are literally sore and my eyes are weary from all of the black on black quilting and sewing (love the look, hate that particular process). But I finished it, dammit, and it looks good (see pic to the left above). I can sleep the sleep of the just tonight for sure.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Small works rule


I find myself concentrating on small works lately, which I tend to do from time to time. That is, finished pieces that are 20” x 20” or less (sometimes much less!) I love small works; both my own and other artists’. I think the reason why is that to look at them forces a really intimate interaction between the viewer and the art. You just have to stand really close and peer into the piece. This pretty much means that you are the only one viewing the piece at that moment—how’s that for intimacy? Also unique to the format of the small piece is the bonus you reap as you stand and peer at the composition, appreciate the beauty, get the message (or whatever) and are also able to perceive the nuts and bolts of the construction of the piece. Maybe (!) construction techniques are even integral to the design of the piece. For a large piece, to really get the full gist, you have to back away, get closer, maybe back away again and then if you’re interested (and almost as an afterthought) you go up close and check out the fine details visible from 3” away. Who does all of that? (Well, I do if I have time AND I’m interested in the piece, but certainly not for every large format artwork I come across). Much easier to step right up to a small, exquisite artwork and dive in and relish the experience.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Paducah, here we come!

By special invitation, five of my celestial themed pieces will be on loan for a display in Kentucky in mid-October. The Museum of the American Quilter's Society (see: http://www.quiltmuseum.org/detail.html?id_number=530) and the Challenger Learning Center (see: http://www.clcpaducah.org/) are hosting an event honoring Jan Davis, a former astronaut and avid quilter. The event will take place at the Challenger Learning Center in Paducah on Thursday and Friday of October 18 and 19 in the lobby of the center.

How cool is that? The MAQS curator emailed me out of the blue and asked if I'd be interested in loaning my quilts. After some thought, I said "sure!". Wish I could be there to see the event but it's just not possible. I'll post pictures here if they send me some like I requested.

Friday, April 27, 2007

OMA 1stThursdays Event!


Come see me and three of my latest pieces from the "Inner Landscape" at the Orlando Museum of Art's 1stThursday Event on May 3, 2006 from 6-9 p.m. May's theme is "Art as Metaphor". Come for the art, the wine and the music---and be sure to say hello! This exhibit is not an opening for a longer running show, it is just for the evening of May 3, so if you're interested in attending make sure to put that Thursday on your calendar. For details, see the museum's website at: http://www.omart.org/events/events.thursdays.html

Monday, February 26, 2007

More history, musings on "inspiration" and creativity in general


As my years flowed, I continued to create; in small ways, usually. Like breathing, it is not something in my control to stop permanently. I may well hold my breath for a time but I must then inhale deeply to compensate. So too, with my art—for a few years when my children were young and demanded constant attention, I held my artistic breath. This was as it should be, of course. As they grew older, art beckoned to me, gently at first and then insistently, to renew our sacred relationship.

Older, and perhaps a little wiser about the ways of the world and ways of my soul, I began the dance with art once more. I had learned, and continue to learn, that a suppression of my words, emotions and desires inevitably leads to a mortal wounding of my body, my sense of self-worth, my very soul and of course, my art.

As I became freer both internally and externally and I began to create art regularly once more, I began to meditate about the process of creation—what some people call “inspiration”. Ah…inspiration. A work is “inspired”, artists have a brilliant “inspiration”. Just as easily, artists lose their inspiration as a result of a rude interruption or merely an inopportune moment. Artists complain of being “blocked”; that is, something (what?) is literally stemming the flow of inspiration.

“Muse” is another word fraught with meaning for artists. Artists often term certain people or settings as their muse. Such a designation is usually deemed to be profoundly personal for the artist—only one artist per muse, please. The muse facilitates, eases or even increases the creative flow. Other artists create works or portrayals of their muse. Is this the same muse function?

I have often felt that a work is fully formed inside of me, much like a child in the womb that must be birthed by my skill and my actions. There is an exquisite urgency that I feel when this is the case, a burning fire to create—create now with little thought of worldly concerns or demands. It is truly a birthing process. At other times there is no fully formed work struggling for emergence from the internal universe, perhaps only a vague idea or a desire on my part to use the tools of creation that are so familiar and comforting to me. Magically, a work of power and significance is still born—how can this be so? If it was not already fully formed, how did it become so in the making, in the doing of it? How can both types of creation process yield the same result? Or are the works truly the same; is the work produced by the a priori process superior in some way? If so, how? Why is it sometimes one process and then the other? Is one process inherently “better” or superior to the other? Or are all creative processes equal?

I will not be coy and imply that all of my works are powerful and significant—all too often a work results that is not successful in some way. Most often such a work is the product of the latter type of process, a kind of psychic and artistic “garbage in, garbage out”.

This was not a new concept for me to cogitate upon—I had often mused about it and its nature for me and others during earlier years while taking art classes as an undergraduate and working on various narrowly defined assignments with a varying degree of success. I came to no conclusion at the time. I had a vague perception that I was perhaps not considering all of the variables or issues involved but could make no headway in identifying those variables. Thus, I finally left my musings as unsolvable and ultimately unprofitable. But the questions remained; the curiosity did not kill the cat, the cat just curled up and took a nap as cats so often do.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

New Improved website!!


I'm so pleased to announce that my new website is now complete and up and running. My old one is gone and the new one at www.elizabeth-harris.com has taken its place in a bigger, better and much more professional way. The very talented David Walker put it together for me and,as usual, did an incredible job. Besides being a website designer, David is also a quilter and understands the needs and issues of such websites. Not to mention that he's incredibly creative and a wonderful person to work with.

Monday, January 22, 2007

Some history

As it turns out, I have only ever had one ovary. No-one ever knew this: not my mother, none of my doctors, neither of my two husbands and certainly not I. My remaining ovary stepped in and filled the void of its missing partner without a hitch—my monthly periods being generous and rich; that is to say, over-flowing to the point of excess, to the point of illness, to the point of too, too much. It was too much to deal with; I could not embrace my body’s vagaries (much less understand their spiritual metaphor) and so I suppressed that which I could not endure, first with hormones and then with years of child-bearing and breast-feeding.

At the same time, had I but the eyes to see it, I was struggling with similar issues in my artistic life. The art was there, burning within me, and issued forth endlessly in large and small ways—no blank piece of paper was safe from me. As a young child I created all day, every day—drawings, paintings, poetry, small sculptures, dance. Even drips of water on the kitchen counter were an opportunity to trail out an ephemeral pattern that made me smile inside. But eventually, as I understand it now, that also became too much and I had to channel and control that effortless out-flowing as well. Art was all very well as an avocation, but it was certainly not a suitable vocation—why, everyone has heard of starving artists. I soon developed countless rationalizations why art was not suitable as a center of my life. But always, always waiting in the wings, in the small quiet corners of my soul, art lingered and waited and bided its time…

As my years flowed, I continued to create; in small ways, usually. Like breathing, it is not something in my control to stop permanently. I may well hold my breath for a time but I must then inhale deeply to compensate. So too, with my art—for a few years when my children were young and demanded constant attention, I held my artistic breath. This was as it should be, of course. As they grew older, art beckoned to me, gently at first and then insistently, to renew our sacred relationship.

Older, and perhaps a little wiser about the ways of the world and ways of my soul, I began the dance with art once more. I had learned, and continue to learn, that a suppression of my words, emotions and desires inevitably leads to a mortal wounding of my body, my sense of self-worth, my very soul and of course, my art.

Friday, January 19, 2007

Musings on the nature of creativity

The creative process is unique to each artist—as unique as the artist herself and each and every work that she brings into being. In its purest sense, creating a work of art is truly akin to giving birth to a child--it is no coincidence that both are termed “acts of creation”. Despite a penchant for introspection, my own creativity remained relatively unexplored until I reconfirmed creativity and art as central to my life and well-being.

I have wondered long about the creative process. At times it flows so freely and easily and you are on fire to record what is passing through your mind and spirit though the flesh may be tired, hungry or otherwise weak. At other times, a beautiful, fully formed but dimly recognized idea is present, but it seems to be a breech presentation and so refuses to be birthed on its own. Such an idea may very well die for want of skilled intervention, either on the part of the artist or her mentor. The artist and her mentor must work to gently turn the unseen idea this way and that until it is unstuck and ready to be seen in this world. For me, these unborn ideas often need to gestate longer than others—perhaps waiting for a key image or concept that is yet to come and be united with the embryonic art as yet to be . At times, the unborn ideas--my spiritual children, after all--will be reabsorbed into my consciousness, my spirit, my soul , to be reborn as other ideas, other works of art, other children of my spirit , whether recognized or not.

But what about this process, this conduit that the idea flows through on its multi-dimensional path to earthly manifestation? This has long appeared both mysterious and mystical to me. A miracle every time it happens, not to be discounted. Almost, I thought, the very act of examining it too closely could kill it; leading to the destruction of the precious conduit forever. And what a loss that would be—how could I be other than what I am now and always have been: creative, eager to make, to touch, to feel this or that be built from lesser materials, from nothing from this magical idea within me. But I now think that examining and understanding this process can do no harm, indeed, can only make the process less tenuous, less haphazard and more secure, vibrant and full-bodied. Truly, some artists have achieved this strengthening of the creative conduit with the result that their work often seems effortless to the uninitiated.

When I was younger, I read the writings of Carlos Castaneda as he attempted to record and learn the ways of the brujo from his mentor, Don Juan. So much of the way was lost to Carlos who did not initially have the ears to hear or the eyes to see. Gradually he developed those ears and eyes under the ever-patient tutelage of Don Juan.