Life after the Hoffman Challenge

all content © 2010 Elizabeth Ohlson

Every life episode, even every present moment, is for me a universe, not unto itself, but part of the entire galaxy of universes. So there is always a connection to the whole, but nearly every encounter, every experience is for me unique, complicated and fascinating, and I invest myself fully.


In a study group I participated in for twelve years, (EFM, Education for Ministry,) we examined microscopic slices of life, posing the question: What is life like in the world of ____? We would use a metaphor for the agreed upon thoughts and feelings to become this target world. If, from someone's experience, we began to look at emptiness and loss, for example, we might envision a metaphor such as "parched desert," or "crumpled love-letter." I like that one.


And then we'd probe what life is like in the world of a crumpled love-letter. The negatives might be: something is over, ended. It will never be the same. It represents a huge investment of emotion with changed, altered meaning. The positives in this world might be, assuming I crumpled it: that I am free to love something new (even though the old love is not obliterated, just "crumpled.") That I have already moved into a new world of experience (of which the old will always be a part--though its significance changes as time goes on, though it loses its power in most cases.) And so on.


I suppose many people would find this introspection rather tedious, but it is just this sort of wandering though focused meditation that describes, in part, one sort of mind that is drawn to the world of kaleidoscope quilting.


For the past several months I have lived in "The World of the Hoffman Challenge." Now my Trifecta III has been sent and received, and a new creation is underway. While I am no longer creating Trifecta III, it's effects are still with me. It taught me new things about color. I had thought that kaleidoscopes needed to be pulsating with vibrant color, but T III taught me that even pastels can flicker and shimmer and vibrate like a kaleidoscope. (So my understanding has been enlarged, and I LOVE understanding in a broader way!)


I never planned to belabor the number "3" when I named my first threesome "Trifecta." But I loved the sound of the word in connection with my three kaleidoscopes, and the names Trifecta II and III emerged naturally. And then, my brain always seeking order along with newness and beauty, began to contemplate "fourness" as my next step in kaleidoscope making.


(And so, not to be to predictable, the kaleidoscope I am working on will either be a part of "Quartet," the perfect name given to me by Nancy, or else a part of a galaxy of k's surrounding a completed k I have hanging on my design wall.)


After my Trifecta III--Hoffman Challenge was in the mail, I started four centers, four triangles of symmetrical fabric, and arranged them on my design wall. I hoped, as I developed them, that they would influence one another and inspire my subsequent choices.


And it was happening! That is, until company came, and I had to take down my design wall so as to prevent losing any of the pieces of my project(s) as the futon was folded and unfolded, bed made and unmade, pillows and people and suitcases and odds and ends moved in and out of my space.


The world of company had become my world for a while, and I loved it, but it changed the flow of my intuition and creativity. The previous beginning became a crumpled love-letter, and the old pieces were gathered up and the process started anew.

In any "World Of" in EFM, we would complete the theological reflection looking for "resurrection," or at least, "resolution" to life in that world. In my world of the Hoffman Challenge, resurrection was a feeling of accomplishment, a certain pride, relief at meeting the deadline, and an acceptance that my world does not depend on the Hoffman folks accepting my work. THAT, my friends, is truly resurrection for me!


In my current world of creativity, I am all of that which has come before, and also something virgin and brand new. I am discarding the metaphor of a crumpled love-letter, straightening it out, caressing it, and adding an eternal post script, ad infinitum.

all content © 2010 Elizabeth Ohlson

TRIFECTA III

I have just finished Trifecta III which will be my submission to the Hoffman Fabric Challenge. It was the most difficult kaleidoscope composition yet, and it's hard to explain why. There seemed to be roadblocks all along the way, and I was reminded of a friend's comment that when things aren't going right, it's time to step back and let it rest for a while.

Is she right? I think it is true in many cases for many people. The muses don't like to be bull-whipped. But my inclination, perhaps my compulsion, is to forge onward, and to regard the pitfalls as obstacles I need to climb over or go around. It seems to me I've talked about this before in my blogspace.

I do wonder, though, when too much effort is too much. Can you beat a dead horse to death? I'm listening to a philosophy course on my MP3 player, and the teacher recently gave the example of cutting a toothpick into sections. You can cut it in half, then the halves in half, then those pieces in half and so on and so on. But at some point, there is no longer a toothpick. There is something else, sawdust like particles.

I took apart various parts of the kaleidoscope carefully removed quilting stitches and seams, sometimes several times in order to make the block lie flat, to make points match as well as I could make them, etc., to the extent that I wondered if I might have weakened the fabric in spots. But I believe--I hope--that I stopped the taking out and resewing in the nick of time.

I've seen paintings that have been overworked and the last thing I would want would be to lose the dazzle of a kaleidoscope. I think the trick is to give one's best to make a piece work, to make it the best "it" it can be, and sometimes that requires a lot of extra thought, a lot of extra altering, a lot of correcting.

Something goes on behind the scenes in the creative process. There may be a lucky plunk of a few words all in a row creating a marvelously rich poem: "The fog creeps in on little cat feet...." I'm betting that was a lucky plunk. For me, for this particular piece, that was not the case. In fact, at times the effort seemed Sisyphean! But a few days ago, I looked at it and said: "It is done. Elizabeth is pleased."

I'm hoping all my efforts to create Trifecta III pay off--ah! a slip of the mercenary tongue there--I mean I hope it is the Trifecta III it needed to be. I hope Hobson Pittman, RIP, would not look at it and gently chide that it is too beautiful not to be more beautiful. No more tearing out. It is finished.

Pitfall or Possibility?

all content © 2010 Elizabeth Ohlson

One of my great "Aha" moments came one day when I was simply taking a breath. It occured to me that at that moment in time, every living creature was about to experience the next second simultaneously. No one had an inside track on the next second. I found that liberating for some reason. I felt on equal footing with the human race. No one knew any more than I did what the next second would bring.

I've been listening to a podcast on philosophy. The teacher mentioned that someone had said he often wondered if space came to an end. She explained that if it does, you would reach out your arm and at that point where it came to an end, you wouldn't be able to reach any further. That if that were the case, that space came to an end, it would mean we were in some kind of box. I do not know the answer to this sort of philosophical riddle, but I do know that I prefer to think of the world, or at least my world, as having space without end. Which brings up thoughts of limits and limitations.

I am limited. I know that. I can't fly except in a plane. I cannot read all the books in the Naperville Library. I cannot go without sleep or food or water, etc., for a long period of time. And so on. I know I am limited. But I also know that when I reach an obstacle I can choose to be dumfounded or I can choose to explore ways around it, above it, under it, through it. I may discover ways of lifting, rolling, blasting or in some other way move or remove the obstacle.

I can also befriend the obstacle, see what the obstacle has to teach me, see how my world view is change by the obstacle, see if I am being led in a new direction. I guess what I am discovering about myself is that despite serious loss in my life, I have become more conscious, and also more optimistic.

I can live unconsciously, always doing things the same way, always believing the same things to be true, always expecting people to be the little stereotypes of who I have created them to be, or I can live consciously, continually waking myself up, asking myself questions, blinking and looking in new ways. I can dare to consider new ideas, the wisdom of others, the wisdom of the ages, the wisdom of the muses and the fates, continually enlarging my understanding. That is, of course, what I have chosen.

A New Beginning: Life after the Hoffman Challenge, Part 2

all content © 2010 Elizabeth Ohlson


Last week a package arrived from the Hoffman Challenge people. It was just large enough to hold Trifecta III and I admit I was chagrined thinking that they had returned my piece and I hadn't made the cut. When I opened it, I discovered a catalogue of the accepted work, a fat quarter of fabric and a few other small gifts. The accompanying letter told me that Trifecta III was accepted and will be a part of a traveling show for a year! I was thrilled, of course.

When I entered, I checked "yes" on the form, asking for the judge's comments. I think there were ten categories--binding, design, quilting, etc.--and I didn't recieve one "excellent." And "very goods" are just not good enough.

My father's goal for me as I was growing up was to be "superior" in any pursuit. I learned as I matured that he had contrived an unrealistic goal for me. Not only that, but aiming to be superior is morally reprehensible. It implies a desire to be better than anyone, to be above others, whereas the pursuit of excellence relates to my personal best, hard work and self-improvement.

Hobson Pittman was my first art mentor. It was he who urged me to leave Penn State to study at the Academy (PAFA) in Philadelphia. He would frequently say to a student whose work showed promise but hadn't quite arrived, "It is too beautiful not to be more beautiful."

Now my personal challenge is to figure out how on earth I can improve my skills and make my quilted pieces become more beautiful. I honestly gave Trifecta III all I had, using all my skill, precision and all my know-how. I can't imagine how I could have made it any better. But now that I know better is a possibility, it is up to me to figure out what I need to learn and to be open for new discoveries.

Maybe it's a teacher/mentor I need. Maybe there are members of my quilt guild who have information or advice that will help me. It's an odd quest, because if I knew what I was lacking, I would work on it until it was corrected. But I simply don't know.

The creation of kaleidoscope quilts is a unique category of quilt making. My first impulse is that I would learn the things I need to know from an expert kaleidoscope maker, Paula Nadelstern being the queen of kaleidoscopes. (If only she were doing a workshop in this area!)

But maybe I will be taught by somebody or something completely other--maybe by working in another art form. Maybe I'll learn from a quilter who works in a different area of quilting or perhaps my craftmanship will become excellent from sheer persistance and more experience. I just don't know. But I have a certain trust in the old saying: When the pupil is ready, the teacher will come.

Anyone who knows me knows I will be dogged in this quest. This is really my Hoffman Challenge and it feels like a new stage in my development as an artist. A new beginning.

A Question of Time

all content © 2010 Elizabeth Ohlson

People often ask me how long it takes to create one of my kaleidoscope blocks. Paula Nadelstern says something about that question in one of her kaleidoscope books. Is the best answer that it took a lot of time, that taking a lot of time gives it more value? Or is a short amount of time better, that if I could do it in a short amount of time I was somehow more talented. But the fact of the matter is, as my old mentor told me time and again, it simply takes as long as it takes.

And then there's the matter of trying to calculate the time that goes into a piece of artwork. Today I spent five hours in my sewing room. At least an hour of that time was taking out stitches. Mustn't the time spent undoing be added right in with the time spent doing? Of course. And yet undoing isn't what comes to mind when one thinks of the creative process. Some of the time was spent looking through my stash of fabric. And some time was spent sweeping up the threads and scraps making my workspace more available to me. Some of the time was spent looking out the window at the falling snow.

And how about the time it takes to shop for fabric? If I spend a half hour shopping for fabric, purchasing a yard each of three fabrics, and then only use one in the block I'm working on, how much of that time factors in? Or what if I decide not to use any of it? What about sleep time, when my unconscious is sifting and filtering and connecting in ways I can't do when I'm awake; or time spent with friends just conversing, even when specific projects aren't in mind or discussed at all, but the mention of a color or the glimpse of an earing or who-knows=what gives me a spark or a new twist in my thinking?

Then there's the matter of chronos time versus kairos time. Chronos is the time I've been trying to measure when folks ask me how much time my artwork takes. It's the hours and days spent fabricating a piece of work. Kairos is a different sort. It has been called "flow." When I'm working I lose track of time. Sometimes time stands still. Or I'm in another world--my creative homeland.

Yesterday I read that Whole Foods is looking to display artwork having to do with healthy eating so I sent in an email expressing my interest and the photo shown above. It's a 10" X 10" wallhanging with photographs of vegetables. Perhaps in a future blog I'll describe how I made it.

And so, the blog itself takes time. I am hoping to make time (wouldn't that be grand if we could actually make some time when it seems to be running out?) and I hope to find a regular time to add my contributions.

Kaleidoscope Quilter Seeks Audience!

January 12, 2020

I was inspired last night by an artist friend to blog as one step for getting my work "out there."

Trifecta II, seen at left, will be shown at the Naperville Art League in the upcoming show. But I need a larger audience.

I believe in my work. I like it so much I am sometimes dazzled by the surprise when I put the eight wedges together and see the resulting kaleidoscope. What a thrill to have designed and fabricated my quilted kaleidoscope blocks. And I want others to enjoy them, too.