Category: Creativity Q+A

Mercedes Bowyer, 44, has had a seat on both sides of the arts table. For more than a decade, she lead the Oliver Arts Center, a community arts center in Frankfort, Michigan. After leaving the Oliver, she found herself making the art. A series of life changes pointed her back to an old familiar practice: needlepoint. And in the course of doing it, she discovered a path forward for her inner creative.

This interview was conducted in June 2024 by Sarah Bearup-Neal, GAAC Gallery Manager, and edited for clarity.

Pictured: Mercedes Bowyer

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How did you come to needlepoint?

I used to spend my summers with my grandparents down in Florida. As a way to give me something to do so I wouldn’t constantly ask to go to the beach, my grandmother taught me knitting and needlepoint. She prepped a little canvas, and taught me the basic basketweave stitch. For knitting, I think I got as far as knitting a sweater for my Barbie, and that was the last of that. That didn’t stick. I was in middle school, and I did not keep up with the needlepoint. Fast forward to 2020, right before the Pandemic, I decided to quit smoking. Anytime I craved a cigarette I would sit down and work on a jigsaw puzzle, and I did all the puzzles in the house. I found I still needed something to occupy my hands, my time. My grandmother [Jane Moore Black] had made me a work bag, and I still had that [needlepoint] project. I pulled that out, and tried to re-teach myself the basic stitch, and finished that project. That’s how it started. The Pandemic came at a time when I could explore needlepoint further, and I could sit and focus on it.

When you came back to needlepoint, you had an epiphany — that you could create your own canvases, and they would be more satisfying to work on than the ones you could purchase.

As I think about it further, the canvas my grandmother gave me she drew [the imagery] freehand that was very Mondrian. She graduated from Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri. She had a career in fashion design. She was a very creative person. So, that’s what I came back to: an original piece drawn by my grandmother. It was the middle of the Pandemic, and there are no local needlepoint stores near me. My husband ordered me a small kit. It was a really pretty, abstracted image of a flower. The threads were part of the kit. It didn’t tell you what stitch to use because it was a beginner kit: You were supposed to use one stitch. It was a painted canvas — sort of like paint-by-numbers — so you knew exactly where to sew the blue thread, exactly where to put the yellow thread. Halfway through, where I was supposed to put the white thread, I decided to deviate and use a sparkly white thread. It hit me, before I even finished the piece, I didn’t find it challenging. I didn’t like them telling me where to put the blue thread.

So, I thought, I could do these, but I could do them in my own colors. I could do my own stitch; but why am I spending money on this [pre-fab] painted canvas that some other artist painted if I’m not going to follow their direction, and what they intended for the piece? That’s when I started getting into my own designs. They were very linear, with lots of rows and grids, just trying out new stitches. I was scrolling through social media one day, and saw this pretty image of Sleeping Bear Dunes, and thought that it would be cool if I could recreate that in thread. And, yes: Shame on me. I took the image off of Google. I could not find who owned the image, and I thought that this was going to be just for me. This might not even work. That was the first time I adapted a photo to an original piece. After that, I was so guilt-ridden because I didn’t know who the photographer was, I started to use only my own photos, and my husband’s photos, or photos that I could identify the maker.

At this point, we should clarify that you were still the executive director of the Oliver Art Center. So, you probably had a keen sense of how important it is to credit creative work.

Yes. That’s true. There were many voices in my head going, “Now, now, now.”

When you decided to move from taking someone else’s image and adapting it to your canvas, what was the bridge for you using your original work?

In the early pieces, I tried to do my research and find existing, named needlepoint stitches that would mimic what was in the photograph. So, if I was doing water, I would try to find a stitch that mimicked waves. Since then, a lot of the visual effects I try to achieve, there aren’t existing stitches. Now, more likely, I’m taking an existing stitch, and editing the stitch to fit my needs.

Talk about the imagery you have been migrating toward as you get deeper into your practice.

It started with the Pandemic. We weren’t going anywhere except, maybe, a few drives during the day to get out of the house. A lot of the imagery is hyperlocal: Point Betsie, and the Frankfort lighthouses; and Pierce Stocking Drive — the usual haunts around the area. I did surprise a friend. I stitched her a log cabin, and I really enjoyed the process of [depicting] the architecture, recreating the building, the sidewalk, the log planks. I find myself drawn to buildings, and the built environment that’s nestled in Northern Michigan.

You’re taking you own photographs, and transferring them to the canvas.

When I got serious about it, I invested in a light box [which enables her to be able to] trace the main elements directly onto the canvas. So, if I’m doing the Pierce Stocking Bridge, I do the outline of the covered bridge, the outline of the road, but the rest of it I fill in from there. It’s not like I’m doing a full, painted canvas like you’d seen in retail stores.

How much latitude do you allow yourself to interpret what may, or may not, be there in the image you’re using?

I give myself quite a bit. I’ll use the Pierce Stocking Bridge as an example. The picture I took was after a rain storm, so you could clearly see that part of the wood on the bridge was wet. I decided to depict the change the colors in the piece from summer to fall.

What made you think needlepoint could be a creative practice?

I was enjoying the process of it. In a way, I was connecting with my grandmother. She needlepointed well into her 90s. I did get a little worried when I was halfway through that painted canvas and realized I didn’t like this. So, I thought, I enjoy the practice of this. I don’t like being told what to do. So, how can I flip this around and make it something I like to do? I was so drawn and connected to the practice that I just needed to find my own way for it to make me happy.

What is the difference between embroidery and needlepoint?

The main difference between needlepoint and embroidery is what the stitches are applied to — usually with needlepoint, it is canvas [not like painters use, though].

Talk about the training you’ve gotten in needlework outside of what your grandmother taught you.

I did complete the American Needlepoint Guild’s Master Needle Artist. It’s a two-year program, and the application was more strenuous than the actual program. I was asked questions about composition, color theory — basics that people would be taught in art school, that I never learned. I had to do some really quick learning in order to answer the questions on the test. Once that test was accepted, I spent a year writing a thesis. And in the second year, I had to do an original composition based on that thesis. It had to go in front of a committee for review. Come September, when they have their annual conference [in Missouri], I’ll receive my certificate and pin.

What was your thesis?

The role of needlework samplers in early American women’s education. It blew my mind as I was doing the research. You’d think that samplers were used to perfect your skills; but the reason you created a sampler and your parents hung it in their living room was so that potential suitors could see that you’d make a good wife.

There was a lot of moralizing expressed in samplers.

Right. A lot of the topics of those samplers were bible verses, statements about social mores of that day. Some of it was education. [The maker] would stitch numbers and the alphabet. Sometimes buildings were incorporated to represent the family home. There are [historic examples of] samplers done by children age 5; but your don’t see much work done past age 14 — at that point, most women were married. They stopped doing needlework for pleasure, and started using needlework to mark their household linens or repair clothing.

How did your training affect your creative practice?

One major takeaway was all the information on color theory: hue, saturation, complementary color. I only use DMC [brand] six-strand floss. Mostly, that’s because it’s the most available in a rural region. You can get it at a fine art store. Heck. I can get it at Walmart. DMC makes thousands of colors. I was working on a piece, and I could not find the right red I wanted: brick red. In doing all the color theory research I did, that’s how I started to mix my thread colors. For example, out of the six strands, I’d pull two out and and put in a different shade of red to get the look I wanted. It was either that, or I was going to have to begin dying my own thread, and I didn’t want to get into that.

Describe your studio/work space.

Primarily where I work is in the living room. I hunted around and found a really cool mid-century sewing table. It sits next to a chair with a really strong light. That where a majority of my current projects live. My home office space is also my work space [where she keeps thread, canvas, and other tools].

What themes/ideas are the focus of your work?

Currently, my focus is Northern Michigan sites. That’s everything from the State Hospital [now the Village at Grand Traverse Commons] to the Grand Hotel on Mackinaw Island. I like to have a connection to places — my husband can send me all the photos he’s taken; but if I don’t have a connection to it, I don’t feel I have much buy-in, which is another reason I don’t do commissions.

What kind of pre-planning do you do in advance of beginning a new project or composition?

Typically, once I’ve selected my subject matter, I try to make sure I have multiple images — even if it’s different than the image I’m going to recreate. I prep the canvas — I have to cut it down — and then I usually bind the sides with masking tape because when you cut the canvas it gets sharp, and will snag your threads. I trace the image onto the canvas. And I swear by stretcher bars. I can’t just freehand sew it. I have the full booklet of DMC threads, so I can look at the picture and determine which threads I want to use. Because I live an hour away from the nearest thread store, I have to pre-plan. I’m finishing up a piece right now, and my mind’s already on my next one [thinking about] what colors am I going to need, how am I going to do this — it’s usually one right after another.

What’s your favorite tool?

I have two. One is my stand. I promised myself if I juried into a show I’d entered, I was going to let myself buy this floor stand. It’s about $400. It’s not cheap. But it’s well worth it. I use it with almost every piece I create. It holds the stretcher bars so that my hands are free for stitching. Some of the intricate stitches require two hands. Or, if I’m getting really detailed, I use my second favorite tool, which is a set of dental tools. The hooks and picks the dentist uses, I use to move threads out of the way.

Do you use a sketchbook? Work journal? What tool do you use to make notes and record thoughts about your work?

I have blank journal that’s gridded paper, that matches a needlepoint canvas. I subscribe to a few magazines, and if I see and interesting stitch I’ll cut that out and put that in the journal, and make a few notes about how I could use it. If stumble across a stitch I’ve edited, and used in a piece, I’ll record what I did so if I want to duplicate what I did, I have a record of it. I don’t do a lot of lettering, but to work that out on the grid is an important process. My thesis piece I did an abstracted view of the different depths of the Great Lakes. I really had to map out the stitches I was going to use on that one. It was a tight grid. It was worked out well in advance on graph paper.

Let’s talk about the 800 lb. gorilla in the closet. Needlepoint is a creative form that goes back to the Egyptians. Contemporary needlepoint, however, is generally thought of as a hobby activity, sometimes disparagingly. 

I attended an opening last week, and a woman was commenting on my work, and she said, “Wouldn’t that look great on a tote bag.” I thought: “It’s not a patch. It’s a piece of art, and you want to sew it on a tote bag?”

How do you talk to people when they say things like that? How have you evolved what you want to say to people?

At first, I didn’t put any thought into it. When I’m entering a show and am asked on the application what the medium is, I put “needlepoint.” That’s what it is. But, then, I was getting a lot of rejections. My husband said, “Do you think people think you’re stitching a painted [commercially-produced] canvas?” They’re not seeing it as original work, and that set me back a little bit. I just assumed people would know it was original work. Right now, I go back and forth about what I call it. For a long time, I’ve stuck with “fiber art.” Maybe I should re-think this and go back to “original needlepoint.” But when I talk to people about it, in the instance I mentioned, it was in passing, and I kind of nodded, and joked that, for the cost of it, “You can do whatever you want.” That’s why, whenever I get asked to speak about my work, my practice is to just engage in conversation about it. I try to get people to understand that, yes, I use needlepoint canvas and thread; but that’s pretty much where [the similarity between Mercedes’s work and commerically-produced needlepoint projects] ends. Some stitches will appear familiar. Others I’ll make up. And, I think that’s what frustrates some of the forum I’m a member of online. I keep on trying to get into shows, so I can put the work out there, and word’s getting out, and people are understanding that “needlepoint” is one descriptor; but it talks about a wide range of what people are doing.

What role does social media play in your practice?

It should probably play a large role. I have my personal Facebook page, and decided to create an Instagram page where I share all my needlepoint. But then I discovered as I expanded what I was doing into the Master Needle Artist program, and I was doing more talks, the need for a website reared its ugly head. I don’t spend as much time updating my website as I should. Sometimes I’ll do three Instagram posts in a week; sometimes you won’t hear from me for three months. I’ve reached a large audience through Instagram. I tagged this international podcast, and they reached out and we did an interview. I could be using it better; but I also have a day job, and a family, and find sitting down to take an Instagram tutorial akin to pulling out my toenails. I’d rather disappear from social media.

What do you believe is the visual artist’s role in the world?

It’s twofold. What I do, I do for my personal satisfaction, to see if I can do. The piece I’m working on right now is of the Tahquamenon Falls in the Upper Peninsula. I wanted to see if I could replicate the foam in the water at the base of the falls. What drives me is, “I wonder if I can do that, and how well can I do that?” I’m not one of those people who believes they’re putting it out there for the betterment of mankind, or to make the world more beautiful. I’m driven by what I want to see out there.

Did you know anyone, when you were growing up, who had a serious creative practice?

Definitely, my grandmother [a fashion designer for a Chicago department store]. She created my paper doll. She hand painted it in my likeness, and created a template for making her clothes. At the same time, my grandfather was an architect. I remember conversations with him — he spent one afternoon talking about keystones, and their role in architecture, and all the different kinds of keystones you’d find in a building. I never really thought about that as a creative practice until I started depicting buildings. One of the other things was my education. I grew up in St. Louis, Missouri, and we had a program where we spent six weeks, once a week, going to the Saint Louis Art Museum. We’d be met by a docent, and given a tour of a different branch of the museum, and we would do a project. I vividly remember those projects, and being in that museum. That’s always been around me as I was growing up.

Who has had the greatest and most lasting influence on your work and practice?

My grandmother. I saw her [doing needlepoint], and she did it well into her 90s and was very proud of it.

What is the role of the exhibition in your practice?

In some aspects, that’s the end game: I want to have a piece for the [Oliver Center’s] annual members show, or the annual fiber show; but I don’t think that dictates what I do: I don’t do a lot of themed shows just because I don’t have anything that fits the theme.  I see exhibiting as the endgame when I’m working on a piece: Where can it show? Who can see it? It’s another tool for me to get the work out there. I don’t care about awards. I don’t care if it sells. I don’t do it for that. I do it to try and spread the word that this is art, too.

How do you feed and nurture your creativity?

I do it every day. Just doing the work. I subscribed to a bunch of periodicals when I got started. I wanted to see what was out there, and what other people were doing. I enjoy going to other exhibits and finding other artists [working in needlepoint] and try to connect with them. I’m always on the lookout for fiber shows — whether it’s basketwork or quilting, I’m drawn to it.

What drives your impulse to make?

I’m not sure what does; but I have the impulse daily. Some days I’d really love to call [into work] sick because I’ve hit my stride on one part of the canvas, and I want to see it to the end. And, there are other days it’s the last thing I want to do. The piece I’m working on now, I’m not liking how it’s turning out. Just not happy with it, and want to get it done. I’m not one to do more than one project at a time. If I start one and get  tired off it, I just work through the block and get it done. That’s my drive with this one. Overall, I just want to see if I can do it, test myself. The last piece, I did a lot of color mixing. I wanted to mimic sun rise, reflection on water, figures. I’d never done figures before.

You have a day job — as Donor Engagement Director for the Grand Traverse Regional Community Foundation. How do you juggle the demands of working your day job, and your studio practice? How do you make the two talk nicely to one another?

One pays for my ability to do the other. I view my creative practice as my break, my after-work decompression: I don’t come home and have a drink at 5 o’clock; I come home and I stitch. If I’m overwhelmed and not having a great day, I sit down and I stitch. That’s how they work well together. One involves a lot of head space, a lot of people-ing. As an introvert, it’s draining. I’m one of those introverts who can fake it, and be good with people; but it exhausts me. I find that the creative practice recharges me.

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Read more about Mercedes here.

Sarah Bearup-Neal develops and curates Glen Arbor Arts Center exhibitions. She maintains a studio practice focused on fiber and collage.

 

Cherie Correll, a mixed media artist living in Benzie County, retired in 2010 after decades of teaching art in the public schools. She said she took “2 1/2 years [after retirement] to decompress and figure out my practice. It was going to a lot of different directions.” This interview took place in November 2020. It was conducted by Sarah Bearup-Neal, GAAC Gallery Manager, and was edited for clarity.

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Describe the medium in which you work.

I work in a lot of mediums. If I had to narrow it down, I’d call it mixed media. I work in watercolor, acrylic, pastels, photography. I incorporate repurposed things and found objects. I’m not sticking to one media per se.

What draws you to the medium in which you work?

Because it [mixed media] allows me to create in a broader sense. It gives me more tools to use. Sometimes the tools become a starting point. And sometimes they’re what I use to express what I’m trying to create.

Did you attend art school or receive any formal training in visual art?

I’ve been creating since I was a pre-schooler ….. I did go to college as an art major [Central Michigan University], and then transferred to Michigan State University for my last two years of undergrad, so my degree [BA] is from Michigan State. Many, many years later I went back and worked on a Masters at Central Michigan. And I’ve taken classes from Eastern, Western, workshops throughout the United States

You taught art in public schools.

I taught in various locations when we moved back from California. I did a lot of substituting and then was hired by Traverse City Public Schools ….. I ended up teaching for over 36 years in various schools. In fact, I’ve been to every school in Traverse City. I guess that’s my claim to fame as a teacher: I know every art room.

How did your formal training affect your development as a creative practitioner?

I think it was very important for me. I don’t know if it’s necessary to do strong work. I liked the idea of learning the elements and principles of design, the art history part of it was very important to me ….. I really enjoyed studying different indigenous people from throughout the world. I found that fascinating, whether it was African art, Asian art. In this part of the world, the Inuit world was interesting to me …… I shared that with my students and built a lot of curriculum around art history.

I think it enriches one when one learns how to mix colors, the color wheel, composition, how to study from real life. I found that was valuable in my practice.

Describe your studio/workspace. How does your studio/workspace facilitate your work? Affect your work?

It gives me space to explore different directions. I’m fortunate to have a heated section of our garage, that we partitioned off and drywalled. I kept the garage door so I can open up in the summer when the weather’s nice, and work flat or work out in the driveway and just bring it in. It’s really nice. I have a sink and windows. It’s full. It’s full of stuff. But I love it, and feel blessed to have that space; for years and years I didn’t, and I think it limited ….. my creativity, so now I’m like a kid set free.

If you were to guess, how many square feet is your studio?

It would be one section where you could drive a car into if you had a one-car garage. The problem is, it’s not a one-car garage. It happens to be bigger than our house. It’s a four-car garage. The far end of it is my husband’s tools and work area. And then the two middle sections are filled with bikes, snow blowers, that kind of things, but I’ve inched my way beyond our wall to our common space, and I often go into his work area to borrow tools and so forth. Funny. He built me shelving to put my canvases in, and that was very helpful.

What themes/ideas are the focus of your work?

The overarching theme is our universe, the world, and how mankind and living things are influenced by the natural world, and how the natural world has influenced the human-made world .…. I’m drawn to found objects and re-purposing them ….. Oftentimes, I use things that have been discarded — plastic, tire parts — and I combine them with other things like tar and natural dyes.

What prompts the beginning of a project or composition?

It comes from two different poles. It may be an idea I get from an actual physical object — something I’ve found or drawn to, I might see how that can develop into a sculpture or a relief or a mixed media piece.

Do you just grab it and start playing with it?

I live with it for a while. I have quite a collection. The tire series I did came out of finding my first shred at the side of the road, and seeing what I could do with it, and then I spent many, many years incorporating tire part. I realized that they’re not something you just dispose of easily [from an ecological standpoint]. You can’t take them to recycle, and I kept accumulating them, so I wanted to find a way of using them and bringing another life to them.

The other side of the spectrum is an idea or thought that I want to convey brings me to how can I work with what I have in my head. It’s both the physical things that one can touch, and it’s also what comes from my brain.

How much pre-planning do you do in advance of beginning a new project or composition?

Sometimes I’m simply guided by an old piece that has not been resolved, and I want to put energy into resolving it, or else disposing of it. Sometimes disposing of it might mean tearing or spreading or whatever, and then I may find a use for parts of it in another piece. for example: in a collage.

Do you work on more than one project at a time?

I work on several pieces at a time, and I do enjoy that, however, I have to limit myself to certain directions so I don’t get too spread thin. I need to follow through with a series before I open up another, completely different window. Sometimes I depart from that and go out and plein air paint .…. It is [a break]. I love the fact I can get out in nature and the elements. It’s uplifting and it’s also very challenging. I’m more an abstract artist rather than a representational artist, so it becomes a challenge to limit what one sees that we want to put down on a flat surface .…. It’s a good discipline. We’re not trying to create a realistic thing that becomes like a photograph, or else, why do it? ..… As far as I’m concerned, the artist needs to put their own eyes on what they’re doing and seeing.

Do you work in a series?

II like working in a series. If I find a direction that really excites me, I need to grow with that, and to take it farther. More recently, in the past year or two, global issues have weighed heavily on my heart, and I haven’t spent a lot of time doing plein air or getting sidetracked although I have a lot of things that are waiting to be resolved. I feel right now I have to explore what is weighing heavy on my heart. It may not be as uplifting as a beautiful scene or a sketching in my sketchbook a still life, I feel like time is of the essence, and it maybe I have a heightened awareness about our world. It may be because I’m getting older and realizing we’re only given so much time on this earth, and how am I going to make it most valuable .…. to me.

What’s your favorite tool?

This probably sounds selfish, but it’s my imagination. And the world around me.

What role does a sketchbook play in your practice?

I think it’s very helpful. I do more journaling that I do sketching. It’s a great discipline for one today a daily sketchbook. I found that my journaling has been beneficial because ideas go down in my journal, anything I’ve read that I find motivational or powerful, I write it down. It might have come from my upbringing; my dad wrote a page in his diary all his life since he was a youngster. Every day. Just a few sentences.

How do you come up with a title?

Sometimes it’s very hard and I don’t want to put any preconceived idea into the viewer’s mind, so [the title becomes] a broad word, or Number 1 or Number 2 or Number 3 in that series. When I do have to put a title to it, sometimes it just pops up. Other times, I’ll ask my husband, however, any title he comes up with is what he sees in it: “Oh. I see a specific thing” or “I see a creature”; that’s how he sees a title. I think it’s kind of interesting, but I do throw things back at him ……

I’m working on a series right now where I’m working in three-dimension — they’re sculptures. The first one I did over a year ago I call Balancing Act. It’s a metaphor for how I was feeling, and how life is. It’s a balancing act of life. That piece is completed.

I also bounce things off my daughter. She’s a visual and performing artist. We share, and it’s nice to have her as a resource. She’s very knowledgeable about what’s happening all over the world because she’s lived in Europe, Los Angeles, New York, and she has a lot of background.

What’s the job of a title?

It might help to give the viewer a better understanding of what the artist might be trying to portray.

When did you commit to working with serious [professional] intent? What were the circumstances?

I’ve always been serious about my practice. My art teacher in grade school was a driving force in getting me a one-person show at the Carnegie library [1] when I was in 7th grade. And, I had a show at the local camera shop when I was a teenager. I’ve always been serious about my work, but life goes on. And even though I was an art major, [some] things sometimes got in the way of being a full-time art practice: a mom, a wife, I had my teaching commitments, and most of my energy was for my students.

What role does social media play in your practice?

It connects me with other artists. I have a daily newsletter that I get [Art Daily] which I find very valuable in keeping me abreast of what’s happening in other parts of the world; what artists are doing, whose curating shows, what’s happening with art auction houses.

Do you use Facebook, Twitter, Instagram?

I am on Facebook. I don’t post a whole lot, but I love the people who are posting their work. It’s a social connection and I can see what they’re working on and how they’re growing. It’s really nice, however, I’m not one to do it myself unless there’s some huge show that’s coming up. I just don’t do that. It’s distracting me. You can really get sidetracked. I’m not a very good promoter but I love looking at other people’s work. Especially when I know them. Everyone says Instagram is great for artists .…. I just haven’t explored any of that.

What do you believe is the visual artist ’s/creative practitioner’s role in the world?

I think it’s being true to themselves. Being honest, and doing the work, and growing and finding their own voice.

How does living in Northern Michigan inform and influence your creative practice?

It can’t help but influence someone’s work when we’re so blessed ..… to live with nature all around us. The seasons — we’re fortunate to have the season. We’re fortunate to be surrounded by water and all the elements. It can’t help but influence one’s work. I live at the corner of Benzie, Leelanau, and Grand Traverse counties — three of the most beautiful places in the world. It the most beautiful place, and I wouldn’t want to be in any other place. However, social media, bring out of my little cubbyhole here and gives me exposure to other places in the world. 

How long have you lived in Northern Michigan?

I was born in TC, and I moved away when my husband and I were first married, and we lived in Northern California for three-and-a-half years [moved back in 1972].

Is the work you do a reflection of this place?

I think so. When I do plein air, definitely. What I’m using found objects, definitely, because they’re from around here. When I walk the beaches I’m picking up natural things. I’m also picking up things that have been disposed of, like plastic. I feel driven to do that.

Would you be doing different work if you did not live in Northern Michigan?

I think I would be doing different work. If I had a huge studio in a big city, I think my work might be totally different because I’d be surrounded by a different kind of energy. And a different kind of influence: the sounds, the smells, all the senses, would take on a different meaning.

Did you know any practicing studio artists when you were growing up?

I knew a few. One of my parents’ dear friends was an illustrator, and she worked for Hallmark. And, she had a very creative mind. Her name was Mary Dorman [2], and she invented the pop-up card. She was the first to make pop-up cards for Hallmark. She would write little booklets, a lot of humorous things about simple things in life ….. My first impression was “what a wonderful job.” And then she came and spoke at one of my high school career days, and she was very discouraging about the profession. I know it’s a lonely profession. You’re working at your own drawing board. My heart sunk to my stomach. I don’t know how much she really enjoyed it.

Who has had the greatest and most lasting influence on your work and practice?

Oh, there have been so many, from the cave paintings of our early ancestors, indigenous people throughout the world, Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo, the Impressionists for light and color. As a young artist, I was drawn to the Abstract Expressionists, especially Mark Rothko and Helen Frankenthaler. I learn from many art instructors and other working artists around the world. We have such a strong artist’s community right here in Northern Michigan, too.

But to answer your question with a specific person I would have to say my mother has had the most lasting influence on my work and art practice. She provided me an environment as a child and during my growing up years to express myself through art, and she showed me through her example that it also takes discipline. She was an artist in different ways — with her skills in cooking, gardening, dressing, decorating, and her whole personality.

Where or to whom do you go when you need honest feedback about your work?

I’ve been involved in various critique groups. We all work in different media, and we all have different styles and kinds of practices. I find that’s very valuable to share with people you respect that might not necessarily be working in the same direction. We all learn from each other. Art friends that I highly respect, and they’re sure are enough of them around here.

What is the role of the exhibition in your practice?

I think it’s healthy. It takes a lot of bravery for anyone, no matter how long you’ve been a working artist, to take that leap and put your work out there. For some, it’s an economic necessity. They’re building a business. I would have loved to have primarily been a working artist and not an educator, but that’s really risky. I found the needs of my family required me to go back to teaching, although I took a break and had my freelance design business [painting, furniture restoration] ….. to have the security of a teaching career, and have insurance, for one thing, led me to do that …..

Why do you take the risk to put your work out there? What does that do for your practice?

I think it can be very helpful. For example, It’s not going to deter me from my main direction, but I love a theme for a show. It gets people out of their heads .…. and I think how can I make that theme work for my own practice? And be true to what I’m doing? That becomes a really nice challenge ..… It’s a departure point …… It gets you out thinking beyond your own little vision. It’s stimulating, is what it is. It’s very motivating. And to be disciplined with a time stipulation is another thing.

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Footnotes

1: The Traverse City Carnegie Library is located at 322 Sixth Street. It is now the Traverse City location of the Crooked Tree Arts Center.

2: Mary Dorman Lardie [1913 – 2009] lived on the Old Mission Peninsula. She was hired in 1933 as the first editorial staff member of the Hall Brother greeting card company, which later became Hallmark Cards.

Top Image: Cherie Correll at the door of her studio.

Learn more about Cherie Correll here.

Sarah Bearup-Neal develops and curates Glen Arbor Arts Center exhibitions. She maintains a studio practice focused on fiber + collage.

Colleen Kole is “an artist who uses textiles.” She hand dyes her fabrics – makes her own materials – and with them creates abstract, contemporary quilts. Colleen is one of a growing number of studio artists who are exploring the quilt as an art object, and pushing it out of the home and into galleries and museums. This interview took place in December 2020. It was conducted by Sarah Bearup-Neal, GAAC Gallery Manager, and was edited for clarity. Colleen lives in Leland and Grand Rapids, Michigan.

[image courtesy Bonnie McCaffery]

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What draws you to the medium in which you work?

I’ve always been drawn to create with my hands. I was a physical therapist, so I used my hands to diagnose a patient — along with visual skills. I’ve always loved using my hands to work with, and that just translated to art so well after I retired [in 2007]. Prior to that, I didn’t have any art influence in my life. I didn’t have anyone in my family who was an artist. I didn’t really know what being an artist was. I didn’t grow up painting or drawing. I always was intrigued by it ….. [Her interest in art started when] we lived in Columbus, Ohio, by Amish quilt makers [living in the vicinity]. I started going to flea markets and picking up [quilt] squares that weren’t finished, and felt a desire to put them together by hand. I did that for many, many years …. It was so rewarding to stitch something by hand. Fast forward to having kids, and I thought, “Wow, this is crazy, I’ll never finish anything.” I went to the Vermont Quilt Festival in 2006 and picked up a book by [Ohio artist] Nancy Crow [1] ….. I remember sitting there at a picnic table and thinking, “Wow! Wow! I want to create like this. I want wild, vivid colors. I want improvisational design” — once I figured out what she meant by that term. “I want to go study with her.”

The quilts squares you bought from the Amish and at flea markets were probably very tradition designs.

Yes, except for I found ….. a bag of [squares from a flea market] that [the maker] obviously had not used a pattern for. It looked like she’d cut the pieces by hand because the edges in back were jagged, and she put them together in an improvisational way. That made the bridge to Nancy Crow-style quilting ….. I had no idea of [Nancy Crow] then. I actually moved away from Columbus [to Michigan in 2004] before I found her ….. I started studying with Nancy in 2007.

Did you attend art school or receive any formal training in visual art?

I applied twice to art school, and twice I decided not to go — this was after I retired from physical therapy. I got involved with classes, workshops, and found the beauty in intense workshops [at Nancy Crow Timber Frame Barn retreats] ..… I decided I to use whatever money I’d spend on college to take workshops, and I probably took 20 weeks of classes there. I studied with Nancy. I studied with Carol Soderlund [2]. I studied with Claire Benn [3]. David Hornung on design [4]. Whatever I felt I was missing I sought a teacher I could work with ..… Now I’ve found the beauty of on-line classes, which I can do at home .…. It inspires me to work with other people and to learn different aspects of art that [will] inform my textile [practice].

By going the workshop route, you found specific people to help you address your needs, as they arose — and that’s different from going to college.

Correct. I struggled with starting over in college. Not that I didn’t need the skill set … But I just wanted to work with textile.

What is it about textiles that is such a passion for you?

A quilt is something we ….. associate with comfort, warmth, clothing. It’s so basic to our needs ….. It intrigues me that you can manipulate it so many different ways: to be a utilitarian object or an art object — something that’s hung on the wall for people to appreciate ……

How did workshops help you learn the craft and skill behind your medium?

Nancy assumes, when you take her class, you know how to sew, you know how to piece, you know the technical aspects behind [quilt making]. She’s giving you design exercises, and ….. assignments that might be done in a day ….. or a week. You are expected to produce it — much like you’d have to do in college. She would work us through [the assignments]. She’d help us critique it so we would learn how to critique it ourselves … and we’d have to learn how to present, in class, as well. I [consider this] my master’s degree in art, over six or seven years. I can’t think of a better place to do it, with people who are passionate about your same medium versus being in an art college where you might have one fiber artist and 20 other kinds of artists. That’s not to say I don’t respect what I’ve gotten in a painting class ….. I use other mediums to learn more about [visual] art. And it helps me figure out where my textiles belong, or don’t belong, in the fine art world.

Most people understand the quilt as an object that’s inextricably connected with the home, with utilitarian comfort. Talk about the ways you’ve been able to help people develop a new and broader understanding of the quilt as you’re working with it, beyond its domestic context.

I feel the best way I can do this is to be at an exhibition, answering peoples’ questions. Most people are stunned to see a quilt on the wall. I just got done with a solo exhibit [October 16 -17 at the Old Art Building, Leland, Michigan]. And, even in the midst of COVID, people were enthralled to see color, to see pattern, to see texture, to see a design hung on the wall in the form of a quilt. They had so many questions: Why is a quilt on the wall? Why do you feel it’s a piece of art? They had great questions. And, by talking with people, by entering exhibits, by entering ArtPrize [5] — I was in ArtPrize five times — I always jumped on the volunteer opportunities to talk [to visitors] about what I do and how I do it. Would you like to give a demonstration? Would you like to give a small workshop? I love showing people what I do because it’s different.

Many people believe that Capital “A” Art is only painting, sculpture and architecture. It often comes as a revelation that fabric is used the same way as paint is. All the same principles about color and design apply.

I am using those same principles: Is my design too heavy on one side? Am I using line in a manner that conveys something? So, I’m using all the design criteria that any other artist would use to look at it to see if it’s a composition worth completing. Sometimes they don’t all get finished, and that’s OK. You’re working through to get to a place you want to be next …..

Describe your studio/work space.

I’ve worked in lots of different places and spaces. What I need to work with is my sewing machine, a cutting table, a rotary cutter, thread; and what I really need is my 4ft x 8ft design walls — I call them “walls” but they’re actually 2-inch insulation panels that you’d use in home building, covered in flannel. I love having two of them side by side. I can work really large … or I can have two pieces playing off each other. I really like having two pieces [to] work with at once. If I get stuck by one I can move onto another. I have the luxury in Grand Rapids of having a big, finished space above my garage ….. but do I need all that space to create? Heck no. My sewing machine gets packed up when we go on vacation. I can work anywhere I can put a machine on and off a table ….. When we had a second home in Vermont, I had an old barn where I dyed my fabrics outside ….. I’m finding the water’s really hard, up north in Leland, so I’m dyeing most of my fabric in Grand Rapids.

Talk about making your own materials. Why are you going to the trouble versus ordering fabric from a commercial supplier?

First of all, I feel like I can get a wider range of colors. I can manipulate the dye recipes to ….. create my own palette of colors. I can dye a gradation of fabrics from very, very light to very, very dark —  a 10-value range of fabrics ….. I love that process of the dye hitting the cloth. It’s a really enjoyable part of the process even though it’s exceedingly time-consuming .…. Normally I’d dye a couple hundred yards of fabric a year. That’s a lot of fabric ……

Do you work primarily in solid colors?

I have taken some surface design classes …. but I feel like surface design is a whole other thing I could get caught up in, and go down a rabbit hole, and not come back to my solids. I feel very comfortable in solids. Love them.

What themes/ideas are the focus of your work?

I have a couple series I’ve worked on. My first series was called Roof Lines. It all started when I was super intrigued, interested, obsessed with the conservatory building at Meijer Gardens [6]. The architecture of that building intrigued me — the way the light played off the beams, the different roof lines, how that building looked so natural in its setting. I started off with that and became in tune to roof lines of a country village, of a little cottage tucked into a mountain, the roof line of a cottage on a lake. There’s about 25 pieces in that series. Did I wake up one day and say I want to do that? No. I just stumbled on it ….. Occasionally one or two pieces a year just pop out, and they’re “Roof  Lines” again ….. They’re shapes that are recognizable to other people, too, and they relate to them — I never really thought about that as I was making them.

Time Fragments [is another series]. It’s a tie-in between memory loss and the fragments of time that people use or lose over time. That’s my favorite to still work with. It a simple motif that can be altered over and over again, skewing it, stretching it out, pulling apart …… but there’s a recognizable line pattern that helps to carry that out.

Is there any memory loss in your own life that prompts this?

Sure. My time as a physical therapist working with geriatric patients with memory loss … working with patients with brain injuries who couldn’t remember the process of doing a task. It’s interesting to me how my old career meshed with my new career to inspire a whole other series.

What prompts the beginning of a project or composition?

Just the fact I have a white [design] wall that needs to be filled. If you’re asking me if I pre-plan a project, I don’t. Some people sketch, and they have ideas and measurements and colors. For me a project starts when I go to my fabric stash, and I start pulling a palette and I pin it up on the wall. I take a look at it in black and white. I take a look at it in color. I remove, I add, I subtract, over and over again until I find a palette I like working with. And maybe I’ll say, “Let try a ‘Roof LInes’ piece today”; or, let’s just join shapes ….. My “sketches” are done on the wall. My sketches aren’t generally done in a sketch book, although I use one. So my sketch could start out in black and white [fabric] on the wall. I’ll sew it together and see how I like the figure-ground relationship, what’s the foreground, the background, do I want to change anything. And then I add color to the next “sketch” and start building from there.

And you can see this more easily in black and white?

Yes. It’s like a drawing. You’re making a sketch in black and white in a sketch book. I’m doing the same thing — just doing it on the wall.

What’s your favorite tool?

My rotary cutter. I use it like a pencil. I don’t use a ruler with it. Sure, I use a ruler at the end to square things up, but I have trained myself to work with a rotary cutter like pencil. I’m slicing through that fabric making the shape I want it to be …..

How do you come up with a title?

That’s my hardest thing. I think the most on it, and I generally think about it while I’m working on [a composition], and it just comes to me — like the piece I made for the [GAAC’s] Power Tools exhibition [September 11 – November 5, 2020]. I just remember saying “Neon lights, that night of chaos.” ….. I just remember writing that title down. It comes to me generally as I’m working on it: OK, this is the title of my piece, let’s go with that.

What’s the title’s job?

To relate in some way to the viewer what the artist’s intention was.

When did you commit to working with serious [professional] intent?

I think, through the process of taking workshops. When you have a group of people progress through the same exercises and workshops …… When I saw how much those artists work improved or changed or developed, and their voice became recognizable, I thought I’m going to have to work that hard if I’m going to really find my voice. And, I started working anywhere from 20 to 40 to 50 hours a week in my studio, like it was a job …..

What kind of time do you put into your practice now?

The pandemic really killed me off; that’s why I signed up for [an on-line] sketchbook course, so I have some rhythm to my day …… On a good studio week I would be up at 8 am and work for six hours in the studio, then move onto everyday life chores. It also depends on what I’m making at the time. If I’m really into a piece I can pull some of those Nancy Crow Workshop hours and work for 60 hours a week just because the piece is moving along ….. Or if there’s a big exhibition coming along, but I don’t necessarily create for an exhibition. I don’t say, “Here comes Quilt National [7] in two years; I need to just create my pieces specifically for that exhibition.” ….. I generally just keep working ….. It’s my career. It’s my job. It’s what I do.

….. After I do a big piece [e.g. 8ft x 8ft] there’s down time. Your creative brain needs rest. I’ve learned not be panicked by that, but just to be peaceful and do so other basic tasks in my studio. It’s OK not to have that intensive creative energy. It’s OK to have those lulls.

What role does social media play in your practice?

I do like to use social media to inform people about what exhibits I might be in, what I’m working on. It’s nice to have a community of people out there that share your interests, but it’s also a way of educating people about what you’re doing. So I use Instagram. Facebook. But I primarily use Instagram. It’s an easy way to share your work and get it out there to a large volume of people.

Is it a way to market your work?

No. I wish I could say I’m a great marketer but I’m not. I’ve actually had someone buy a piece by posting it, but I don’t do it for that purpose. It’s more of a sharing.

What do you believe is the visual artist’s role in the world?

I feel that it’s a way of: a.) sharing with the viewer how the artist see thing; b.) the beauty in the world through color, pattern, texture, repetition, theme. I’m pretty intent on sharing the beauty of the world. That’s not to say that some of my pieces don’t have a strong statement about [social] or political themes, but that isn’t the primary part ….. To me, the world really needs to see color and beauty right now, and I’m OK with that. I’m pretty passionate about that. I’m even more so intent on that after seeing peoples’ reaction to art in October [at her Old Art Building exhibition] when they hadn’t [directly experienced] art since [the] February [COVID shut down]. I was thrilled to see I could give them little bit of peace, a little bit of happiness and joy through [directly] viewing art. I don’t think I’d taken that seriously — how important that is to people …..

How does the world find its way into your work?

Travel — primarily throughout the United States is what I’ve done. We lived in Vermont, so mountains and meadows and nature. I love my garden, so color from my gardens. The bright, deep, rich colors in nature. The patterning you see in nature when you take a walk. The patterns that the waves make on the beach. The patterns that the rocks make along the shoreline.

Some of your work is topical.

Oh, Beach Daze. When I visit an area, I want to find out what’s happening in that area of the world — weather-wise, climate change-wise. And I was so disturbed by the Red tide [8], and how it changed the tourist industry, how it changed the ability for people to be outside and breathe the air outside, by man’s neglect of taking care of the chemicals he added to the water. I was so disturbed by the fact we might not be able to go to the beach and see all the umbrellas up, and have this wonderful time breathing fresh air outside in the sunshine ….. I didn’t make that piece because I was disturbed by it. That piece was one I was already working on, and how it related to what I was seeing …..

How does living in Northern Michigan inform and influence your creative practice?

My primary residence is in Grand Rapids, Michigan. We bought a second home in Leland two years ago, knowing little about Leland when we bought the house. We just found a house in town that was close to water and said, “OK.” Exploring somewhere new and different always informs your work, whether it be moving your desk to a coffee shop or moving homes ….. My colors are changing a bit from what I was using before. Little bit deeper blues and greens. I feel like [Northern Michigan] is just starting to impact my work ….. There’s a community of artists living in Northern Michigan, and I’m just starting to meet them. Artist appreciate it up here …… It’s another source of inspiration, to see how they work as career artists, to see how they’re informed by their environment, to share exhibits with them, meet them at exhibits.

Do you think you’d be creating different work if you didn’t live in Northern Michigan?

No. I don’t think so. There’s lots of landscape artists in Northern Michigan. I haven’t found a lot of abstract artists up here ….. I want to continue my abstract work, and I feel the way [Northern Michigan] will influence me is my sense of color. More earth tones. But maybe not. Maybe I just stick with what I’m doing. I’m open. But because of COVID ….. It’s not like I’ve had a chance to explore like I would have normally ….. I don’t feel like my work hasn’t gotten respect because it’s not [about the] landscape. It’s a subject that just familiar to this location. It’s beautiful. What’s not to like about the landscape. It’s why we’re here.

So, the way Northern Michigan is influencing your practice is how your palette is changing. You’re bringing in more of the colors that are indigenous to this part of the world. What was the palette you worked in before you starting spending so much time up here?

Deep jewel tones. Bright garden colors. I spent my summers in Vermont — yes, there’s rolling hills, there’s cows, there’s meadows, but people love their gardens there because the winters were so long. I find that people here, their gardens are hidden by long driveways and the woods, or their proximity to the lakes, so you’re not getting a peek into what that person’s garden might look like …..

You said you didn’t know any practicing studio artists when you were growing up.

Yes. That’s true. But I was on the [high school] yearbook, and would help the photographer develop film ….. To see the image hop out on a photograph is probably akin to how I feel when I dye my fabrics and the color is revealed on the cloth .…. That led me to believe I might have a little creative spirit in me.

Who has had the greatest and most lasting influence on your work and practice?

Probably Nancy Crow, and the teachers she has lined up to teach at her facility. They’re top notch ….. Nancy’s knowledge of the art behind quilt making as a medium is unparalleled because she has worked in this way for so many years. She’s a natural colorist, so she can point you in the right direction if you don’t have a clue about color, and why it’s not working in your composition. She’s blunt. She’s direct. And some people have a hard time dealing with that, but I don’t have time to waste. I would much rather know my weaknesses and work on them than not know them at all. I like her directness. I like her work ethic. She doesn’t stop. She keeps going. She keeps seeking improvement.

To whom do you go when you need honest feedback about your work?

There are three artists that I’ve grown up with in the last 10, 12 years, who are working as I am. If I get really stuck, I can send them a photo ….. and have them take a look at it and critique it for me. They give me honest feedback without giving too much of the secret away of what I have to work on myself. They give me honest feedback, but I don’t want the whole answer on how to fix my composition. I want to figure it out myself, so if they just give me enough clues ….. I don’t want anyone to re-do my art for me. I want to be able to figure out a solution to the problem.

What’s the benefit of that?

So I can grow as an artist.

What is the role of the exhibition in your practice?

I do enjoy exhibiting my work. It’s a primary way to get my artwork out there. It’s a great way to see how your medium fits into the fine art world. I’ve learned so much being part of a multidisciplinary art exhibit versus just a fiber exhibit …… To see your work among other media, it either fails or it shines, and only because it was a worthy design or composition to begin with — regardless of what medium it is: How does it stand as a piece of art?

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Footnotes

1: Nancy Crow is a visual artist. She is a pioneer and leading figure in the modern quilt movement of the 1970s and 1980s, and is also known for her development of certain techniques to allow more spontaneity and expression. She resides and teaches in Baltimore, Ohio. Nancy Crow, an illustrated survey of her work, was published in 2006.

2: Carol Soderlund has taught the art and technique of hand dying for more than three decades. She teaches through the US and Canada.

3: Claire Benn lives and works in Surrey, UK. She is also an author, curator and educator in art textiles.

4: David Hornung is a painter, former quilt maker and professor of art. He is currently on the faculty of Adelphi University on Long Island, NY.

5: ArtPrize is an international art competition and festival in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was founded in 2009 by Rick DeVos, the son of Republican gubernatorial candidate Dick DeVos and former United States Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos.

6: Frederik Meijer Gardens is a 158-acre horticulture and sculpture park in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It opened in 1995.

7: Quilt National is a juried biennial exhibition of contemporary quilts first held in 1979. The primary exhibition is held at the Dairy Barn Art Center in Athens, Ohio in odd-numbered years.

8: Red tide is the term used for harmful algal blooms that occur when colonies of algae — simple plants that live in the sea and freshwater — grow out of control while producing toxic or harmful effects on people, fish, shellfish, marine mammals, and birds.

Learn more about Colleen Kole here.

Sarah Bearup-Neal develops and curates Glen Arbor Arts Center exhibitions. She maintains a studio practice focused of fiber and collage.