I studied sculpture as an undergrad and worked a lot in textiles, and I still do. I have a bit of a line drawn between my craft and art practice which I have a hard time maintaining or defining. Functionality is a factor. Conceptual complexity is a factor. Mass appeal is a factor as well. But to what degree and what objects land in which category is not honestly governed by a clear system. So, I'd like to share some pictures and history about my making process as an artist and not just a crafter.
This piece was part of my BFA thesis show and is titled 'But man is born to trouble, surely as sparks fly upwards' . It is my own arms with lace embedded into the surface and cast in iron. The lace reads like some sort of scarring or tattoos. They each have a channel cut from the armpit to the wrist which was initially intended to keep the weight reasonable, but became an interesting element.
They are filled with felted roving that bulges out at the joint between the two. The gesture of the arms is meant to be that of carrying firewood, but their position also references kneeling legs. This, in conjunction with the soft joint and lace, make the arms decidedly female and somewhat sexualized.
The boards they're resting on and the pile of wood both incorporate felt from sweaters. It acts as a stripe on the floor and covers the ends of some of the firewood pieces. The bark had come off some of the pieces of wood and the galleries of the boring insects were exposed and visually echoed the lace of the arms.
This is the "Other Mother". She is a doll a little less than 2' tall made out of raw fleece, construction cloth, plastic, glass, human hair, cloth, embroidery floss, wood and an unfortunate frog that was plasticized in a pitcher of resin on accident. She comes from a story about a mother who eventually, as threatened, abandons her tricked-into-being-wicked children to the Other Mother with a glass eye and a wooden tail. It's a rather terrifying story, so I tried to create a piece that would also be dreadful.
She is toughly felted and still smells of sheep and it uncomfortable to hold as her tail see-saws against the rest of her body and her flapping hand legs.
I've shown her a few times, most recently in the Grand Rapids Festival of the Arts in Grand Rapids, MI. At the moment, she is to precious for me to part with, but I will hopefully be starting some new dolls of comparable impact.
PS, the date on this is wrong for some reason. Consider this an early October 2010 post.
