Leni Wiener

Ah, the new school year.  This week always feels like the beginning of the year to me, more than that arbitrary date in the middle of the winter.  Even though I no longer have kids starting school after labor day, it still feels like a fresh start to me.

I did enjoy the exchange I overheard in Staples on Saturday–a clearly divorced daddy taking his 9ish year old school shopping and clearly overwhelmed by the activity.  I want a blue notebook.  OK, pick out the one you want.  They don’t have a blue one.  So pick out a different color.  But I want a blue one.  But you said there is no blue one.  But I want a blue one.  I am so glad those years are behind me.

My fresh start comes in the form of my work going forward.  Throughout the summer, I have been working on my third book, the details of which I cannot share with you yet.  Although it will not be released until October, 2011, I finished the last seam of the last quilt yesterday.  The text is finished and edited, there are just a few little details to review and make sure everything is buttoned down.  But this means the good news for me is that I can clear the studio of the book stuff and go back to making art.

The hiatus has been good for me, giving me a chance to sort through all the clutter in my mind about where to go from here.  The months I did not have time to do art were months that my brain percolated, reviewing all the aspects of my work and where I want to take it.  Now, for the first time since last winter, I have a clear direction and a new approach.  Hopefully, this new direction will move my work forward while still retaining that which makes it essentially mine.

As I have often said in this blog, a crucial part of finding your voice (which includes moving forward and redefining your voice) is self examination and self reflection.  This is the part so many people have trouble with, finding it hard to be brutally honest with themselves–their strengths and weaknesses–and reexamining goals.

But the new direction I am about to pursue retains (I think) that which others identify with my work and what I am drawn to in terms of subject and theme; but moves forward and addresses the areas with which I have not been satisfied.  I only hope it works as well in reality as it does in my head.

Take a good hard look at yourself and start fresh.  Think about what you want your work to reflect about you, and make decisions about what you are happy with in your art and what you want to change.  And then do it.

For those of you who are struggling to “find your voice” I thought I would share with you my thought process in reexamining and evolving my own “voice.”  Even once you have found your true artistic voice, it is important to reevaluate, reexamine and grow as an artist.  To find one thing you do well and never change is boring, plus it makes your work stale and uninspired.

Finding, or changing your voice takes time and reflection.  It is not something that happens in an afternoon.  There are questions you must think about, and the answers need to rattle around in your brain for a while until a clear path emerges.

The first thing I do is make a list of the things I am happy with and those I want to change.  Here, for example is my list (in no particular order, as this is something I do for myself alone):

• I have built a reputation as an artist who depicts people, and since I am drawn to that, I do not want to change the theme of my work and start working on nature, landscapes, etc.
• having made that decision a while ago, however, I have been working on closeups of faces, which, after much reflection, is really not where I want to be.  People like in my work the nuance of body language that my figures have, not the detail of the faces.  I need to move away from faces and back to body language.  This is my strength.  Always go with your strength.
• My work is somewhat dark and moody, in both subject and color palette–something I am happy with and do not wish to change
• I do want to rethink the sizes of the pieces I make, feeling they need to be larger for more impact.
• I have felt for a long time that the work I do lacks refinement, something I want to work on
• The edge finish is also something I want to change, as I am not happy with the way I currently finish the edges of my work–it also feels unrefined.  I have some new ideas that are a bit “out of the box” and may further serve as a unique aspect of my work.
• This may seem trivial, but this was a major revelation for me–I need to rediscover why I work with fabric.  Right now the pieces I make could be done in paper, or even painted.  There is a reason I am drawn to fabric, to piecing (which I have let go of) and now need to embrace the material more.  Having recently reread something Henry Moore wrote about working with stone, I realize that I have not been letting the medium define the process.  So I need to go back to piecing, at least in part, and to use fabric in a way that only fabric can be used.
• Having thought a lot about it, I do know that I am not interested in hand-dying or painting fabric.  I did think a long time about dying (but I so want to avoid the contact with the chemicals and fumes) or painting (but I decided that if I wanted to paint I would be a painter.)  One of my favorite aspects of this kind of work is finding the right match in a commercially available fabric.  A trip to a fabric store gets my heart pumping, with so many gorgeous options out there, I am not interested in attempting to create my own fabric by any method.  It took me awhile, but I am firmly committed to working only with commercially available fabric.
• I am still not interested in any sort of surface embellishment.  That hasn’t changed.
• my work is too photo-realistic, and I want to let go of most of the detail, most of the “environment” in the background and move towards work that is more abstract, while still holding on to depicting figures.
• I have also spent a lot of time looking at other art–most specifically NOT art quilts, for a clearer direction that will make my art more ART and less ART QUILT.

I need to be true to myself, to my voice, while striving to make it better.  I hope that this glimpse into my thought process will help you to find your own direction based on the things you want to achieve in your work.
Please share your journey with me by leaving comments!

Many art quilters are confused about what it means to present a consistent body of work.  This is often asked for when applying to galleries, professional organizations, or entering shows.

A consistent body of work is a group of pieces that hang together and are clearly by the same hand. There should be a consistently clear, distinct and unique voice, in a style that does not look like, or seem derived from another artist’s work. It is the style—that is the artistic approach—that must be consistent. Simply unifying otherwise unrelated styles of work by theme does not constitute a consistent voice. (This is the goal of an exhibition, when many artists show how their different styles address the same theme.) If you are showing a “wide range of styles”, in fact you are revealing that you have not yet settled on a style you can call your own.

The first step in creating a consistent body of work is to find your voice—that is, to establish your own working style. Only then can you produce a group of pieces that express your singular artistic position. Finding your voice is not a quick and easy exercise, it involves self examination and self discovery, along with experimentation and development of a clear, strong direction. Some things to think about:

• Ask yourself what you enjoy in the process and what you would like to let go.

• Develop an expertise in the techniques that inspire you and eliminate those that you feel are holding you back.
• Think about fabric choices—are you more comfortable with commercial fabrics? Patterns or solids? Hand dyeing your own fabric?
• Do you want to include surface design and/or embellishment?
• Are your colors consistent with your voice? This does not mean you must always work in the same colors, but whether your color selections are subdued pastels or strong saturated colors can change the look of your work, and the impact they have as a consistent body of work.
• What do you want your work to say; do you wish to make a political statement? Express the tranquility of nature? Examine the inner workings of human emotions? Do you want your work to appear serious or whimsical? Subdued or full of movement? What motivates you? What do you want people to take away after seeing your work?
• Consider working in a series, this will allow you to examine and explore different aspects of your subject and techniques in order to help you determine what you want to continue to develop.

Only after you have established a voice that embodies your unique artistic vision, can you begin to build a body of work. All the pieces should appear to be from the same hand, make the same statement, and utilize the same technique or combination of techniques that form the thread throughout the “body” of work. Presenting a cohesive and consistent body of work requires that you edit your existing pieces with the following criteria in mind:

• Are your techniques similar in all the pieces? Combining works created using different techniques rarely holds together simply because they all have the same subject matter.
• Keep in mind the age of the pieces. A great work from 5 years ago is likely to appear out of place with your current work as we all evolve over time.
• Are the materials/colors dramatically different amongst the pieces in the group? If you work mainly in primary colors but include one or two pieces in subdued, earth tones, this will not look cohesive. The same goes for working with mainly solid fabrics versus highly patterned ones.
• Do all the pieces make the same statement, set the same mood?

When all else fails, have someone else look at your body of work and see if anything stands out as different from the rest. Many artists find it helpful to have professional critique of their work to help them establish a direction.

Last April, I took a photo in Hong Kong that ultimately became “Market Day, Hong Kong”:

I loved the photo, and felt that the resulting art quilt was ok, I liked the bag she is holding, was very proud of the way I fussy cut the umbrella fabric, and I used a silk for her shirt that my parents brought back from Hong Kong twenty years ago.  Nice touch, but I really felt that the strength and interest in this photo was the woman’s face, which was so small in the overall piece that I felt it lacked the impact it deserved.

So there is nothing that says we cannot revisit a starting photo, and in keeping with my new series of closeup faces, done small but (hopefully) with big impact, I reused this face and did it again.

This still is no where near finished, just at the glue stage.  But I think this now captures what was missing in the larger piece.  Of course, I could redo the entire figure, larger, using this face which has more impact, but in moving forward I feel that I don’t want to do big pieces, and I don’t want to do the bodies, the backgrounds–that for now, anyway, I just want to work on the faces themselves.  Finding your voice has as much to do with what you want to do as with what you don’t want to do, remember?

Where I have also made an adjustment from the other two I did since I started this series (go back in the blog entries a week or so to see them) is the color.  Here, I decided to mix both warm and cool colors, letting the base fabric of the face remain warm and fleshy, and using the cools as the darker values.  I prefer this approach to the last face I worked on in this series (and may make adjustments to it before I finish it) where the face done in the red tones is just too warm.  It needs to be cooled down, which I tried with the blue at the bottom corner, but the overall effect is still too hot.   So I like this approach, mixing color temperatures for more of a balance.

What was it the three bears said “not too hot, not too cool, it was just right”.  Damn, those bears knew their color theory!

We had a really good talk at the art quilt monday session this week, only a few people came but the talk was more about the things that bother artists in general than about anyone’s work in particular.  Although much of what we discussed has appeared in this blog before, I think it doesn’t hurt to repeat it.

finding your voice:

One of our group completely changed direction and created two beautiful pieces that are a complete departure from what she was doing before.  This is a huge breakthrough, because it means she has finally discovered who she is as an artist and where to go from here.  She has been frustrated and unmotivated in the last few months, and felt an instant spark when she started in this new direction.  This is important to remember, that if you have chosen to make fabric art (or any art) and aren’t “feeling it” then you need to ask yourself why.  It doesn’t help to emulate someone else’s style, you need to find that which makes you feel satisfied and fulfills you.  If you are frustrated or find yourself losing interest before a piece is complete, then you need to do some soul searching and figure out why.

changing your voice:

Once you have found a direction and established a recognizable style and “voice” it is important to keep growing and pushing yourself in new directions, out of your comfort zone.  Sometimes this does not mean a complete departure from what you are doing, but a tweak in another direction.  Sometimes, however, it means a complete overhaul and a move to a new and unrecognizable style.  The well-known fiber artist Michael James comes to mind.  For many years he did beautiful geometric pieces, and then switched to a style that I would not have known was from the same hand.  Whatever motivated the dramatic change is personal.

process vs product:

This is a subject about which I have very strong feelings.  As artists, we cannot be making art to satify a consumer, because as soon as you begin to make art that you think will sell, you are not making art anymore.  You are not expressing personal creativity and expression anymore.  You might just as well be making tote bags or placemats or widgets.  If you need to make things to sell (and frankly there are much more profitable ventures than sewing for a living) then do, but don’t confuse them with the art that you make for yourself.  The hope (and dream) is that there will be people out there who get what you do, love what you do, and buy what you do.  But it is a mistake to try to anticipate what will sell and then try to make it.  You must find joy in the process.  If you don’t, then you are no longer an artist, you have become a manufacturer.

can’t fit art into my life:

This one is not nearly as simple as it appears on the surface.  We all find the time to do all sorts of unsatisfying things in our lives.  Never have I not found the time to make dinner, or do the laundry; never did I not have time to pick up the kids at school.  If you can’t find the time to fit art into your life, then you have to ask yourself the following questions:

1. Do I really want to create art?  Am I driven to make art or do I just like the idea of being an artist?
2. Is it really about time or am I frustrated in some other way?  I have avoided the studio for the past few days and the reason is clear to me–it is messy.  Many artists can work in a messy space, but I need neat and organized–I need to feel as if the studio is a sanctuary.  When it is neat, I WANT to be there, will often just sit there doing nothing because the environment is soothing.  When it is messy (and messy only means I need to refold the fabrics that are out and put them in their bins) I just can’t be in there.  So instead of spending the half an hour it would take to make it a sanctuary again, I haven’t “found time to work” for a few days.  This is not about time, it is about avoidance.  Perhaps your avoidance is about something else–you don’t like how a piece is going; you aren’t working in a style that motivates and competes you.  We always manage to find the time to do the things that are really important.  If you aren’t making time for art, figure out why.
3. Are you just not treating yourself as if you are important enough to spend time doing what you want to do for yourself?  I love my kids, and yes, I remember how time consuming they were when they were younger.  But guess what–they can survive for an hour without you, they can eat tuna fish sandwiches once in a while for dinner.  And they will be better off with a mommy who is happy and feels fulfilled.

being an artist means a lot of alone time and introspection

This is something that I don’t think many artists come to terms with.  This is not a people-person activity.  This is a solitary activity.  You have to be comfortable with yourself, and often you have to do a lot of introspective thinking and decision making.  You can’t ask for advise, no one can answer most of the important questions for you.  When you need the company of other people, you need to teach or take classes or workshops.  Art is the ultimate ME-time.

speaking about art

One of our members was nervous about speaking to a group of other artists about her work.  She was most nervous about the fact that she is working towards developing the techniques and skills she needs to fulfill her voice, but feels she isn’t there yet.  I think that when artists listen to other artists, they want to hear about the inspirations, the frustrations, the goals–the successes and the failures.  It is helpful to understand other artists’ process in order to help us establish our own.  And remember, especially when talking to other artists–they are on your side.  They don’t want you to fail, they just want to hear you talk.  The audience is your ally, not your enemy.

artist statements

This did not come up in the discussion on Monday, but is directly related to the topic just above.  Artists are often asked when their work is accepted into a show to provide an artist statement–which produces panic in many.  An artist statement is what you would tell someone standing next to you in a gallery looking at your work.  It isn’t art in its own right; it need not be poetry or use flowery language.  It is an opportunity to give others some additional information that will help them understand what you were going for, what you were thinking, what you want them to see in the work.  Talk about your influences; the process or materials that may be different from how others work; what was your goal, were you trying to make a statement?  (Not all art makes a statement, some is just expression.)  I have a short version and a long version of my artist statement saved on the computer so that it is ready when I need it.  I may tweak it for a particular venue or purpose, but it is basically there and ready to go.  There is nothing “personal” in it, I don’t talk about where I live, where I went to school, what I studied; I make no mention of my family.  I don’t think it is even relevant to mention who you have studied with or whose workshops you have taken.  This is about why you do what you do, and what you want the viewer to look for in your work.

So what should you take away from all this seemingly unrelated jibberish today?  You need to listen to your inner voice and follow what it tells you to do.  Whether it is in finding your voice, working on a particular piece, finding and maintaining the motivation to keep working, artist statements or speaking to others.  The simple thing to remember is to be true to yourself.

And, please let me hear from you.  Post comments, send me photos of your work.  Making art may be a solitary activity but blogging doesn’t need to be.  I want to hear from you and see what you are doing.  Share with me!

And because I always think blog posts with pictures are more interesting than those without, I am closing with two pictures from yesterday’s beautiful snowstorm (beautiful because I did not need to go out in it!).  First, my favorite tree:

and the bench on my front stoop, with blown snow on it:

Wow, I was surprised at how many responses I got from yesterday’s post about finding your voice.  Obviously, this is an issue that many artists grapple with.  In reading the posts, it is interesting to me that we all seem to have the same experience–that others recognize our voice before we see it clearly.  For me, a lot about who I am as an artist and what direction to take with my art came from long walks in the woods with my dog (a very supportive art lover).  Sometimes it is important to clear your head of everything else and just ruminate.  I also made lists–what I do well and love to do and what I hate doing and would like to avoid.  It seems like a silly exercise, but writing it down drives the points home and helps to see the whole picture.

Recently I saw a movie entitled (Untitled) that seems to be playing only in art theaters, but if you have a chance to see it, go.  It is a quirky film that spoofs the NYC art scene and asks the question “when is it art and when is it hype?”  I thought it was very funny and really enjoyed it.  Other people in the audience who are not tapped into the “art scene” didn’t really get it.  One of my favorite scenes showed the hanging of the show of an exciting new artist who walked around the gallery trying to find the best place to “hang” his piece “push pin surrounded by blank wall,” which, you guessed it, was a push pin in the wall with authentication papers and instructions on how to hang it when the buyer got it home.  When he found the right spot, everyone cooed and agreed that it was just perfect.

I find that even with an opened mind (and don’t get me wrong, I love seeing the creativity of artists who really push the envelope and find new avenues of expression) there is art out there that I just don’t get.  I look at it and say “oh, come on, really?”  I do think that some galleries look to be controversial, showing
“art” that gets people talking–even if it is negative.  Let’s face it, it is all about buzz.  Why else do we all want blogs, websites and facebook accounts?

There was a line in (Untitled) that resonated with me.  It was similar to something I always tell my students when I teach.  I may not have it exactly right, but the line was something akin to “everyone has opinions, that is why artists must find meaning in the process.”

What does that mean? Everyone responds to art differently, and no artist will appeal to everyone. That is a fact of life. But for the artist to get lost in, to find meaning in, and to be fulfilled by the process is the reason we do what we do. There are certainly easier ways to make money.   When artists start worrying too much about the end product–will it get into the right shows, will it sell, will other people consider it ground-breaking–we lose the real reason we create.  For artistic people, there is a need to express ourselves through the process.  The end result should not be the “goal” and should not impact on how and why we create.  Art is a selfish endeavor–in that, I mean that we do it to fulfill ourselves–if we get outside gratification, that is just the icing on the cake.

When I teach I always give the example of young children drawing or painting pictures.  If you say to a young child “oh, I love your painting” they will give it to you.  Why?  Because for them it is all about the process, the end result is unimportant.  It is only as we get older that we need the satisfaction of knowing we have put something out in the world that others appreciate.  We need to learn from young children that the process is what it is about.  So embrace the process, follow your gut instincts and do what you feel compelled to do.  That is your voice.

Think he is napping?  HA!  He is clearing his head in order to find his artistic voice.  Well, no, actually, this is my son, and he really was napping.  The piece is “catnap” from this year.

These days I hear lots of discussion about how an artist finds their “voice,” which means their personal artistic style.  Obviously, I can only speak from experience, but I discovered I had established a “voice” even before I realized it.

About a year after I started showing my work in juried shows, I was at a quilt show in NJ.  As I stood near my quilt, two women approached and began to look at it closely.  One said to the other, that looks like a Leni Wiener (although she mispronounced my name).  Looking at the card along side the quilt, her friend replied “it IS a Leni Wiener.”  I stepped towards them and said I believe it is pronounced WYner and the indignant reply was “oh, no, you are wrong.”  OK, so she didn’t know how to pronounce it, but the fact was she RECOGNIZED it as mine.  That was proof to me that I had found a style that was distinct and unique.

For a long time I fought my natural instincts towards a recognisable style.  I love abstract work, and am always drawn to it.  But my abstracts looked contrived and forced.  What I was drawn to create–images from photography–was not what I wanted to produce.  I needed to create works that told a story, that had emotion, that were representational.  What I wanted to create were abstract studies of color and value and pure design.  It took me a long time to realise that was not my voice.  (At least not yet).

As a former photographer, I see images.  Walking around every day I see photographs, compositions that speak to me.  Sometimes I have a camera and record them.  Otherwise, they are lost in the course of my day.

It became apparent to me that I could not ignore these images that were so prominent, and that I could still do studies that deal with color, value and pure design in the way I addressed each of these images.  I consider my work to be value studies as much as anything else.  Having established a viewpoint–photographic images–I started to think about technique.

Finding a voice was as much about what I felt I did well as is was about what I wanted to leave by the side of the road.  I don’t like precision piecing and matching of points–it moves too slowly for me.  I don’t like applique with neatly turned under edges for the same reason.  That made it clear to me that raw edge machine applique was the way to go.  This method is fast, spontaneous and intuitive–and that is the way I like to work.

Borders?  Hate them–they take up too much fabric and look too traditional for me.  Gone.  Bindings?  Same fate.  Quit backs–require too much yardage, so I began to purchase off white kona cotton by the bolt.  Now all the backs are plain–and consistent.

Finally, what I think people often don’t realize is that their stash is also part of their voice.  I am drawn to the same sorts of fabrics, in the same colors over and over again.  My work is dominated by reds and red oranges (I have one color that is so dominant in my work and in my house that my friends and family call it Leni Red).  I hate purple–although I use it because it can be effective with red.  Organizing my fabrics in color families I came to see that the red, orange, golden tones and black and white fabrics overflowed.  The purple, yellow and pinks all live together in a bin with room to spare.  And the surface design is often the same, as well.

As an artist, your voice is always changing.  In the past my work centered on people in an environment like this one entitled “Patience”

But more and more I am finding the creation of the environment not nearly as interesting as the people alone, and my work has evolved, like this from over the summer entitled “Joy and Wisdom”

Finding your voice takes patience and honesty.  When you find it, it will bring you joy and wisdom.