Leni Wiener

Every year the large, Northern Star Quilt Guild holds their annual quilt show in Somers, NY, just north of NYC.  In past years, the show has always been a nice combination of both traditional and art quilts and there were always lots of wonderful vendors.  This year’s show was this past weekend, and it was (I am sorry to say) disappointing.

There seemed to be fewer quilts overall, although there were some beautiful pieces, and I will share my favorites with you.  But there were only a handful of vendors and fewer attendees than in past years.  I especially miss two vendors–one with gorgeous hand dye fabrics and another with wonderful fabrics from India, both of whom I purchased from each year.  Many of the quilts were hung with folds and most were not straight.

A shame, as it is an event that quilters in the area always looked forward to every May.  But enough about what used to be, lets look at some of the highlights from this show:

First, the traditional quilts that I loved.  Although I do not make them much anymore (spending what little time I get on art quilts these days) I do still love traditional quilts and admire those who do them well.

This quilt by Dawn Hayes “Christmas at Kelmscott Manor” was the standout in the traditional category–in my opinion.  Hand appliqued and hand quilted, this piece was so beautifully done that every point and every curve was graceful and skillfully done.  Just gorgeous.

Before I continue, I must apologize.  I strongly believe that quilters be credited for their work, and when I shot these quilts, some of the cards were not clear enough to read.  So if readers of this blog recognize some of the quilts whose makers I cannot identify, PLEASE email me or post a comment and I will add the names immediately.

This is one of those quilts.  I can only read that the quilter is Susan W… and for that I apologize.  I love the colors in this quilt, the movement of the blocks, and the overall effect.  One of my favorites.

Rona Spar’s “My Bird of Paradise” is also a striking quilt, wonderful use of color, and beautifully done.

And Ann Fitzell’s Baltimore Album quilt (I have always wanted to make one of these, perhaps one day) with it’s gorgeous border.

My real love, the art quilts:

First I want to share this picture of one of my students, Ann Louise Lyman, and her prize winning quilt.  Good work, A-L!  I am so excited for you.

I am a fan of Norma Schlager, and always enjoy seeing what she submits each year.  This one, “Poppies” is striking–the color, the perspective, the larger flower on the border.  I love the composition, and the tiny dark inner border that so effectively frames the image.

Another of hers that I love is this one, “No Elephants Here” :

Wonderful composition and color!

“Threading the Needle” by Laura Wasilowski is part of the included “SAQA: Sense of Humor” exhibit that is traveling around the country since it’s debut in Houston this year.  I love this piece, it may be hard to see in a photo, but the yarn ball is made up of pieces of woven strips of fabric, giving it wonderful texture.

Donald Gough’s “All Around Town” is a wonderful example of how diagonal lines give dynamic energy to a composition.  The touch of color adds a spark in an otherwise black and white composition.

Diane Sharkey used strips of selvage for the lighter areas of this quilt “That’s Graphic.”  Clever and effective.  Woman after my own heart–she obviously doesn’t throw away her scraps of fabric!

Again, I apologize for missing the name, I really love this quilt.  Such complex and amazing color, and such a strong composition.

Susan Schrott’s “Andantino” comes alive with her very sophisticated use of color and undulating stripes.  I wish you could see this one up close, the tight and even stitching give this piece weight and surface texture.

Georgia Heller’s small piece “The Ballet Shoes” is simple and elegant.

Yesterday I was lucky enough to attend the members preview of the upcoming Picasso show at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC.  Although there can be nothing bad about being up close and personal with works by one of the greatest artists in the history of art, this show was a bit disappointing.

The show is made up entirely of works in the museum’s collection–over 250 pieces, many of which are sketches.  Limiting the show to only works owned by the museum is a bit of a shame, as some genres of his art are not as well represented as others.

Beginning chronologically, the exhibition begins with early works (and I mean EARLY, Picasso had his first major solo show at the age of 20).  Most of these works were extremely derivative of other artists working at the time.  Unfortunately, these are not well know and there are no photos of them available for me to share, but two stood out in my mind.  One, a painting of can can dancers was so like Toulouse-Lautrec that I would never have suspected it was by Picasso.  The other, a portrait with a background of floral wallpaper that was very like Van Gogh.

Moving into more individual works from the early years, one of my favorite of his early works (and the first Picasso owned by the museum) is the portrait of Gertrude Stein:

It is interesting to see in her face the beginning of what in later years would define Picasso’s work–the distorted and irregular eyes influenced by Oceanic and African art and foreshadowing his cubism.  Gertrude Stein donated this piece to the museum after her death.

The blue period is next.  Still very influenced by artists like Goya and other Spanish artists, the distortions here are more exaggerated; and the color palette is most definitely the first indication of his development of his ever changing voice.

The blue period is often described as being characteristic of his depression and despondency during this period in  his life.  There is certainly a sadness in this piece, and the obvious beginnings of Picasso’s distortion–the neck the elongated hands, the disturbingly awkward shoulder.

The rose period is next, a new color palette and the beginning of his lifelong fascination with circus performers and harlequins.

We can still see his elongated figures and distortion that were present in the blue period.  But always expanding his artistic vision, constantly changing his “voice” and always moving in a new direction, Picasso made what seems to be a huge leap into cubism in 1910.

During the cubist period, exploring a vision in tandem with Braque (their work is often indistinguishable during this period) Picasso explores the reduction of images into hard edges, and geometric forms that began with his inspiration by the Oceanic and African art we saw as far back as the Stein portrait.

The still life studies done during this period are flat and two dimensional–there is no attempt to show perspective.  Each object is stylized into its most rudimentary shape, beautifully using very few lines to depict what in the past artists would show in great detail.

In “Bottle and Wine Glass on a Table” we can see the flat, non-dimensional presentation; the simplicity of geometric forms, and the addition of paper or other materials introduced to the surface.  This is where our own art quilt tradition begins!

Never satisfied to stay with any one idea for long, after 1912, Picasso again changes his voice.  In the 1920’s he begins to explore an ongoing interest in mythological themes, and bulls.  In the 1930’s, after the birth of his son, his work reflects the softness of motherhood, shown beautifully in “Woman in White”

The interesting thing about this painting (I have seen photos many times but never in person) is that it appears to have been “toned down” with a white wash over the surface after it was completed.

This is probably the only period in Picasso’s art where he shows women with respect.  So many pieces in the show, particularly his sketches, depict women as vulgar–the pieces being at times quite pornographic.

The distortion for which Picasso is so well known begins in the 1930’s, a period of his art not well represented by the works at the met.  One notable piece is this one “The Dreamer”

But this is where the exhibition at the met falls apart for me.  After the chronology of the first few rooms, the following two rooms show first only his lino prints and then only sketches from all periods of his life.  Not only are there too many sketches in the room to see any of them well, this jump from timeline to technique make it hard to watch the progression of his art.

Many of the lino prints are well known (including the one I wanted to purchase at the recent Armory Show but didn’t have a half a million dollars to spare).

This print has the energy and vitality that permeates all of Picasso’s work.  It also bridges the gap between his sketches, his distortion paintings and his influences of primitive masks.

The final room, the sketches, would have been a wonderful exhibit by itself, if hung so that each magnificent sketch could be studied and really taken in.  Many of these works are pornographic and vulgar, treating women in particular in a less than flattering light; many are mythological in nature; many others depicting horses or bulls, popular themes in his work.  The beauty of these sketches is Picasso’s ability to create an identifiable image with only a few well chosen lines.  This, in my opinion, is his most enduring legacy.

Last weekend my husband and I went to the Art Dealer’s Assoc. show at the Armory in NYC.  This show was a collection of well-heeled dealers from around the country with work to sell.  Actually,  I was a bit disappointed that most of what was available were well known artists of the 20th century.   Don’t get me wrong, seeing Klimt, Matisse, Picasso, Avery, Moore, Sheile and others was certainly wonderful, but I wanted to see something new and exciting.  I guess that wasn’t for this crowd.

I did see a lovely little Picasso that would look great in my house (and cost more than we originally paid for the house) but alas, I really don’t have any more wall space so I had to pass it by.

There was one gallery selling the work of two artists whose kinetic sculptures were extremely exiting and interesting.  But the one I will focus on in this post is Ellsworth Kelly, represented by more than one participating gallery.

Ellsworth Kelly is known as a minimalist, but that sells him short.  I suppose I understand the generalization that his work is minimalist in that it is about color and space–both positive and negative space–and his work is strong, hard-edged and uncomplicated.  I would call him a purest.  Like the line drawings of Picasso, his seemingly simple compositions are deceptively complex in his understanding of color, shape, and abstractionism.  His saturated colors heighten the power of his work.  But more than anything else, Ellsworth Kelly’s work is about contrast, and the tension between contrasting concepts.

The geometry of this piece cannot be denied.  The negative space is as important as the two imposing shapes, one curved and one with a hard corner.  The red and green vibrate against each other, while the strong blue makes its own statement.  Because the colors are all highly saturated and of equal value, this is a piece that is “in your face” and has tremendous impact.  The contrasting colors, red and green; the contrasting shapes–rounded and square.  The way the pieces come off the edge at the top of the work create the contrast between the horizontal (restful) format and the vertical “reaching to escape the top” of those shapes.

In the same color palette as the first piece, this piece has an entirely different sensibility.  The vertical format is more energized than the horizontal plane of the piece above it, but is contrasted by the horizontal shapes occupying the surface.  Here we also see the soft vs the hard geometric shape against the green (contrast, again), with the same visual vibration.  The blue shape seems to come almost to a point but not quite, drawing the eye to the edge of the work and (in our brain) beyond.

I love this piece.  The strength and the movement are magnificent.  That the artist can convey such a powerful image with only two lines of negative space is amazing.  Like the blue shape in the piece above, the white shape falls off the edge of the canvas, forcing the viewer to extend the art into the space around it.  I could look at this piece for hours.  Art in its purest form.

But the pieces that I find most interesting by Kelly are his pieces that explore the notion of randomness.  I am sure that I relate to these as they are so close to one of the roots of my own art–traditional quilting.  I doubt that this is what Kelly had in mind when he created pieces like these:

How like a quilt is this piece?  Although the artist was working with the notion of randomly placed color it is so much more than that.  The use of so much black and white provides a strong contrast of light and dark values, while the colors dance across the surface.   I love the geometry that is created in the white areas, and on closer inspection, the randomness is not as random as one might first think.  The few gray blocks are always next to a black one; as are the red and orange blocks.  With the exception of just a few cool colored blocks which draw the eye down a jagged line through the center, almost every color is attached to both a black and a white square.  To me this looks more like what I always describe in my teaching as “controlled random” which means that the look is random but is carefully manipulated to move the eye around the surface of the work.

Probably my very favorite Kelly piece is this one–”brushstrokes cut into 49 pieces and arranged by chance”.  The strong contrast of the dark against the light (not quite black and not quite white), the thickness and thinness of the lines, the magnificent movement around the surface all come together in a piece that reminds me of quilting, but is so much more.  This is a piece that is about not only randomness, but form, line, contrast and the complexity of simplicity.

Likewise, this piece, “study for meshers” has the same quilt-like qualities.  I can almost see the randomly pieced strips of fabrics cut up into squares and rearranged.  But what is so successful here as art is the wonderful array of shapes that are formed by the random mixing of the squares, where the ends of the rectangles fall allowing the eye a place to rest, and the one curved shape with the point that is almost lost in the sea of rectangular shapes. The saturated but cool colors feel restful while the movement has such energy.  Yet another study in contrast.

Similar in construction but oh so different is this piece done in warm tones.  The subtle difference in value provides a much more nuanced study of the negative and positive spaces.  Arranged so that they appear to be more horizontal than random, this piece does not dance so much as it flows from one side to the other.  the block of color at the edge provides beautiful composition by solidly grounding the edge of the work.  Here the contrast between the two colors is softer, and the horizontal movement is the restful element while the warm colors provide the energy.  I have never seen this work in person, so I am not sure if the lighter areas on the two sides of the piece are intentional or the result of photographic reflection.  It does give the illusion that this is not a rectangular shape, but that the edges are fraying–and interesting contrast to the hard-edges inside the work.

Hardly a minimalist, there is so much to learn from Ellsworth Kelly and his seemingly simplistic abstractions.

Go out and look at art today!!

I have never shared a youtube video with anyone before, but my friend Sandra sent this one to me this morning and I wanted to share it with you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=vOhf3OvRXKg

The video shows the winner of “Ukraine’s Got Talent”, 24 year old Kseniya Simonova.  Yes, I know, I felt the same way, stay with me here.

Using a large light box, she draws a series of pictures with sand illustrating how ordinary people were affected by the German invasion during WWII. Twenty five percent of the Ukrainian population was lost during what they refer to as the Great Patriotic War.

As you can see in the video, as she works, the table is projected onto a screen so that the audience can watch her progress.  Many in the audience were moved to tears, and she won.

In the first scene, a couple sits together on a bench under a starry sky and warplanes appear behind them.

Then we see a woman crying until a baby arrives and she smiles again.

A young woman receives a letter and becomes an old woman.  Then we see the monument to the unknown soldier.

This scene is then viewed through a window, and a mother and child appear looking at a man standing outside the window, as if saying goodbye.

Not withstanding the emotional impact this art had on the audience, I was overwhelmed by the transitions from one scene into another.  Watching her work was the thing that got me, the way she deftly moved her fingers just a bit here, tapping there, to create with minimal lines a composition with detail and nuance.  I particularly loved the way the younger woman morphed into the older woman, and the way she was able to change facial expressions from happy to sad and back again with the touch of a finger.

One can only imagine how this young woman developed this artistic style.  Clearly, she had practiced and done this many times so that she knew exactly how to proceed through these eight minutes with such ease and fluidity.  It is hard to watch her hands move the sand without being reminded about the importance of the process–this is not art that remains, it is created and then wiped clean to make way for the next artistic expression.  This is momentary, fleeting, and yet has tremendous impact.  It is important for all of us as artists to remember that it is not the physical work of art that has the impact, it is the expression of ourselves in the process and the initial reaction by the viewer.

Yesterday’s post about art vs craft prompted the question “what makes art good?”  So all that art history education my parents paid for will not go to waste, I will jump in with my thoughts on that subject.

There is a joke that art is like pornography, I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.  This is not entirely silly, as one trains their eye to recognize good art, they will be able to do so before they feel they can articulate what is good about it.

Terry Grant posted a comment that someone told her there is no “bad art.”  If this is true, then maybe there are only bad artists.  I certainly think there is a lot of bad art in the world.

First an art historical preface.  Art is as old as man.  The magnificent cave paintings found at various sites around Europe attest to the fact that man was creating art–and good art–much farther back than we could imagine.

This example is from the caves near Lascaux, France.  In my mind this holds up as good art even today.  I can feel the movement of these animals, their weight in space, the contrasting use of color.  This has all the components I discussed yesterday about what is art–originality (who was this artist going to copy anyway?!), intention, color, composition, technique.

The height of classical Greek art was driven by “canons,” strict rules that determined proportion and balance, and all artists adhered to them.  There was no particular aesthetic criteria for art in ancient times, it was simply a representation of the natural world and a successful work of art possessed a correctness of that representation which was a result of the skill of the artist (who was considered a craftsman just like builders and wine-makers).

Throughout the history of Western Art,  canons in the figurative (representational) depiction of the natural world were what defined art.  Styles came and went, were prevalent in different regions, but the goal was the depiction of BEAUTY in the natural world.  Deviation from the rules was enough to keep a work from attaining the level of art, and emotion only entered the picture in the depiction of emotion–that is to say, whether the person in the painting looks sad, or happy or confused.  There was no attempt, or even desire to elicit emotion in the viewer.  Throughout the centuries, art was a product of human industry, its success measured in terms of how effective it was in promoting the objective for which it was made.

Things did not change radically until the impressionists decided to shake things up a bit.  Although they still depicted naturalistic subjects in a fairly representational manner, they changed the technique by which they accomplished this task, breaking the rules that governed art for so long.  Although theirs was not the change that rocked the art world, it provided the portal through which the cubists entered and changed the way we defined art.

Many of the cubists were impressionists and they began first to depict the natural world in hard geometry, their vision eventually yielding to the expression of the relationship between line and color which did not ultimately need to result in the creation of any particular recognizable form.

So back to the question, what makes art good?  For the centuries leading up to the 20th century, what made art good was an easy question to answer.  But in the words of Piet Mondrian, “the culture of a particular form ends and the culture of determined relationships begins” meaning art does not have to be figurative–or represent something recognizable from the natural world, it is simply now about the relationships between the constructive elements that we, as artists, create for ourselves.  So the real issue is what makes abstract art good?  I think this is the real puzzle that most people are trying to piece together.

What makes abstract art good?  Don’t confuse what you like with what is good.  Ben and Jerry make good ice cream, but we all like and dislike some of the many different flavors they offer.  In order to understand and determine what makes art good, we have to go back again to the definition of what art is in the first place, and then examine the success of particular pieces in that framework.  In a way, we still have not moved away from the rules and canons that have identified art all these years–we have only broadened our criteria.

Many people think that good art must elicit emotion in the viewer, and although this is often the goal of the artist, or the result, this is not required of art.

“Trafalgar Square” by Piet Mondrian (like all his work) does not seek an emotional response from the viewer, by his own admission, the artist calls his work NEUTRAL art, which looks only for the construction relationships of composition and color placement to create a dynamic rhythm of geometric shapes.

When I was in college studying art history, I went into a gallery selling work by Jim Dine.  I distinctly remember engaging in a conversation with the woman in the gallery over a piece that looked like this one (or may have been this one from 1970).

Coming from my (at that point) traditional art historical exposure, I asked her what made this art.  Her reply was about as stupid an answer as I could have gotten.  “It is expensive.”  I said there had to be a criteria greater than price to establish what is art and what is not, and she told me that I clearly couldn’t appreciate what I couldn’t afford.  Oi.

Too many artists today think this is true, that anything goes and that there are no rules for art.  That is not true.  One must understand color, value, line, and composition well enough that it becomes intuitive (and does not look forced); one must possess technique that can represents their vision and intention in a manner that supports, not deters.

There must be movement over the surface of the work:

Like Ellsworth Kelly’s 1951 piece “brushstrokes cut into 49 squares and arranged randomly”.  Here line and composition draw the eye around the work, creating visual interest and excitement.  No need to use color or value, simplicity reigns, but there is a lively vitality to this piece that I love (one of the things I like so much about his work is the relationship it has to our own quilting traditions).

Repetition of pattern or shape is another element that determines good composition, but the rythm of the piece flows from changes in the sizes of that shape, and their inter-relationships with each other.  This piece by Louise Nevelson makes use of repeating circle motifs, but changes their size, moves them around the surface, and breaks the composition into thirds resulting in a successful artwork even without the addition of color.  Negative space is an important element in the composition.

“The Golden Wall” by Hans Hoffman (which hung in my bedroom throughout my childhood–a poster, not the original) takes this theory of repeating shapes and their inter-relationship to the next level with the addition of color.  Orange and yellow are analogous colors, which blend well together, and blue is the opposite or compliment of orange, creating visual excitement and a dynamic composition.

Obviously, I am not going to show you bad art and discuss it, as I would not want to embarrass any artist that way.  Suffice it to say that I see lots of art these days (art quilts in particular) that lack the basic components of what makes good art.  Many of these in my head right now, make use of swirling patterns with no particular attention to color or the placement and relationship of the components.  With no compositional directive to look around the surface of the work, no interesting constructive elements, positioning or varied dimension of components, the surface of the work is flat and uninteresting.

I will interject here my personal pet peeve in the history of art–Jackson Pollock.  He is an artist who represents two other things to think about–that art must sometimes be evaluated in its historical context, and that not all art that is deemed good art will meet your own criteria.

We all know his work when we see it.  Yes, there is intention and a consistent body of work.  Yes, his work is original–or at least it was in its historical context.  No one else was doing what he did, his work was unlike anything else on the art scene at the time.  Yes, there is an understanding of color and the balance of that color, and the relationships between colors.  Yes, the eye of the viewer is drawn around the work and there is a lively vitality and visual interest.  Yes, there is a repetition of patterns, so to speak, in the swirls and blobs.  But I hate it.  I think it needs a visual resting place, like some negative space somewhere or a shape or color that serves as a focal point.  Yes, he is a famous artist and many of you will not agree with my opinion of his work (we probably don’t like the same flavors of Ben and Jerry, either).  But I can’t get over feeling that he was scamming the art world by producing what he knew was crap marketed to people who didn’t want to admit they didn’t get it.  Ok, so ends my Jackson Pollock rant.

An art education is not necessary for an understanding and appreciation of what is good and what falls short.  Studying old masters was always the way artists were trained, if you work in abstractionism then your masters don’t go back farther than the last 100 years.  Study them and ask yourself, why is this good, what works, how can I achieve what this artist has achieved?  Look at the balance of color, shape and the relationships of each of these elements.  Look at the composition–is it centered, or is it asymmetrical?  Look at enough art that you begin to internalize the characteristics of good art, and they will make their way to the surface in your own work.

So, what makes abstract art good?

1.  originality: does the artist employ techniques or an artistic vision that is unique and unlike work of others?  Does the artwork offer a fresh interpretation?  Is it immediately identifiable or is it derivative of other work?

2. intention: have you seen other work of this artist, and is the work consistent and represent a solid voice?

3.  color: does the artwork make use of color theory, are color compliments or analogous colors used to set a mood, or to convey an emotion?  Does the color used support the overall look and feel of the work?

4. composition: is the overall composition pleasing or boring; is your eye drawn around the surface of the work or into the focal point?  Is there a motif–a shape or a color or other design element that repeats in a way that makes the artwork seem fluid and provides movement and visual excitement?

5. technique: does the artist possess the skill required to make his vision (intention) a reality?  Does the technique bring anything new to the table on its own?  Is the presentation of the final piece professional and finished?

(OK, in answering all those questions, Pollock does meet the criteria.  I just don’t like his work!)

Phew, how’s that?

I found a small paper bag while cleaning out my purse today, and in it were three postcards I purchased one day over the summer.  I had gone to the Neue Galerie in NYC with Rayna Gillman, and artist whose work I admire, and whose company I enjoyed that day.  You can see her work and her blog at:

www.studio78notes.blogspot.com

Although Irving Penn, the iconographic photographer, passed away over a week ago, it is only now that I have found time to discuss him and his work in this blog.  For those of you not familiar with Penn, he is best known for this fashion photography and for photo portraits of artists, writers, and some other celebrities.

What made Penn’s photos so unusual, especially for his time (I believe he began photographing for Vogue in the 1950s) was that his work was so clean (value value value) and his use of simple backgrounds and interesting angles.

Penn has been one of my inspirations, first as a photographer, and still as an artist.  What I find so amazing about his photography is the elegance and simplicity, the way he can photograph the mundane and make it beautiful, and his focus and attention on texture and design.

This portrait of Pablo Picasso is my very favorite Penn photo, and one of my all time favorite photos–period.

I have often talked on this blog about light medium and dark values, and look how beautifully that is accomplished in this photo.  The intensity of that one eye watching the viewer, the geometry of the dark at the bottom and the curve of the hat–just perfect.

Favorite Penn photo #2 is this fashion photo of a woman with elephants.  A recent exhibition at the Met in NYC entitled “the muse” used this photo reproduced with a life-sized mannequin and large elephants at the entrance to the exhibit, but so missed the point of this photo.  To begin with, the curve of her arm and the upward curve of the trunk is so graceful and draws the eye upward.  The extended arm links the two elephants and sweeps the eye across the photo. The gentle curve of her body (and the turn of her head so that we see her in profile) in the dark dress against the bulk of the elephants’ bodies is such a lovely contrast.  The light bow with the deep folds, in that shiny silky fabric, against the stark black and surrounded by the gray textured elephants is such an amazing study in contrasts.

Irving Penn also set up a studio for awhile in Cuzco, Peru to photograph local indigenous people.  He always used the drop cloth background that became his signature.  Look at the textures in this photo, the curves of the children’s bodies, their faces, and the table that anchors the composition.

Penn photographed indiginous people in many parts of the world, his most famous is the series of the mudmen.  But this is my favorite of that genre–this photograph is all about surface textures and design.  We don’t need to see her face–in fact, seeing it would make this a photo of a naked woman; instead we are drawn to the texture of the skin and how it contrasts with the folds of the fabric, the delicate necklace and the more solid necklace around her neck.  This also serves, as so many of his works do, as a study in value and a study in contrasting texture.  The strength of the black and white photos also allows us to forget about color and focus our attention on the wonderful surface designs in the photos.

Penn did not always concentrate on people as his subjects, he often turned to mundane objects to create memorable still life studies.  One of his most famous is of two cigarette butts.  Who thinks of that as a subject?  And ok, speaking of color–this photo of frozen vegetables represents everything I love about Irving Penn’s work–it is a study in different textures–and sizes–and a composition based on geometry.  I can just see this done with different fabrics, but alas, he has already done it.