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Materials matter, and Those of loved ones gone can live on

5/26/2018

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Clockwise from top left: Great-Grandfather Quilt; Dad's Throw; Tie Cushion. (Carlyn Yandle photos)
Materialistic. People say it like it's a bad thing.
But there's not necessarily anything selfish or hoardy or wasteful about feeling deeply connected to materials. If we all started being a little more materialistic we might not be now contending with the Great Pacific Garbage Patch or space junk. I want no part with parting so quickly from one-use-life materials when a meaningful second life is possible.

So when a couple of people dear to my heart were clearly torn about parting with some favourite clothes of their loved ones who recently passed away — one within this year, the other within 18 months — I felt it too.

These bits of cloth are interwoven with the memory of the wearer, his style, the special occasions and the everyday. Just looking at them hanging in the back closet brought the son, the wife, to tears. Some of that emotion is also about feeling at odds with what to do with it all. Yet holding onto useless things, especially in this town where we're so squeezed for space we have to go outside our living spaces just to change our mind, can even bring on some shame or panic that we can't let go, move on.

I felt the potency of the pieces too, and suggested selecting a few items to be repurposed into something that would bring comfort, and in remembrance.
The first project this spring was the Great-Grandfather Quilt, for the first of the next generation who missed meeting his great-grandfather by 9 months. The second was Dad's Blanket, which lives on one of the two matching sofas where father and son watched the baseball in his last three years. The third is a lumbar-support cushion made from silk ties that's parked on his wife's favourite reading chair.

It takes a bit of faith to allow those blazers and sweaters, ties and dress shirts to leave their dark cupboards and be subjected to my fibre-art experiments but I'm grateful they did. It was a little unnerving, plunging wool blazers into a hot-water-wash and tumble-dry, or severing several silk neckties in one swipe of the rotary cutter, but that's the deal with making and innovating: sometimes you have to take a deep breath and boldly go, risking failure.
And there is definitely failure in all of this making. Design changes happen on the fly, dictated by odd dimensions of the pieces and unpredictable fabric behaviour. (It's a thing.) Trying to wrestle slippery bias-cut silk, unstable cashmere knit and coat-heavy woven wool into submission enough to lie flat together is a test of one's patience. The trick is to embrace imperfection and keep the big picture in mind. I think about the Gees Bend quilters I saw a few years ago at Granville Island and the gospel spiritual song two of them sang at the start of their talk, and I say a little prayer myself: God I hope this works.

The other challenge is creating works that resonate with the spirit of the original wearer, so it's not just a matter of chopping up the clothing into tiny unidentifiable pieces to be re-fabricated in a generic quilt. You don't want to be too literal either, appliquéing ties into a Ties Quilt or (creepier) using every last button and pocket or (horrors) just sewing all the clothes together into a blanket or something.

Binding the one blanket with necktie fabric and appliquéing the suit labels in one corner of an army blanket backing (for the man who served in the US Army) felt like the right balance.

I post each Remembrance Pieces project on Facebook to inspire other material girls and guys, and to pay my respects to the stuff of life and to those of this life no longer.
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A beautiful craftivism in a flowery part of the world

11/8/2017

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MORE THAN DECORATION: Flower images carry deep cultural significance for the Maya. Left: A figure dating from 600-900bc nestled in a lily. Centre: Needlepoint detail from a huipil (top), part of a traditional everyday dress. Right: Jesus emerging from a lily in an oil painting of the Immaculate Conception. Carlyn Yandle photos
I've made it my mission to shake things up by injecting the handmade domestic — doilies, quilts, sweaters and rugs — into austere, authoritative spaces and places, from pristine galleries to sketchy undersides of my city, pushing back on everyday misogynistic descriptors like 'girly' or 'old-lady' or the slightly derogatory 'frou-frou' and 'flowery.'

Then I landed in Merida, Mexico, last week where there is no fight against things flowery and archetypical feminine. Here in the capital of the Yucatan state and the ancient Maya culture (not dead but flourishing against all odds, by the way, like Canada's indigenous people) the streets are a flowery visual field of richly needleworked garments and handmade decorative traditions woven throughout the city, from tiled floors to architectural details and murals.
Above and far right: Carpet-like ceramic tile floor artworks are more than decorative. At left, a four-petal flower signifies universal realms; Centre: Merida's impressive El Gran Museo Del Mundo Maya pays tribute to the importance of the handmade floral motif in one of its exhibit salons. Carlyn Yandle photos


Flowers are so sacred and symbolic in the highly complex Maya culture that the Franciscan missionaries, in service of the Catholic Church, appropriated specific flower designs in their battle for their souls, in a cultural war of the roses (and lilies and other healing, spiritually-weighty blooms).
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Left: This rare depiction in oil of Fray Francisco de Santa Ana appeals to the Mayan sense of the sacred. At right, typical religious imagry is embellished with rich floral motifs in a visual appropriation of Mayan culture. Carlyn Yandle photos
Coming from the land of yoga pants, I'm fascinated by this idea that an acceptable form of everyday dress is one's own hand-stitched art piece in the form of brightly-coloured cultural patterns of flowers on white cotton or linen tops and tunics, over an underskirt edged in a thick band of white lace.


No made-in-China. No apologies, no fading away.
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Nature shows us that after devastation comes renewal

4/26/2017

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Foxglove, the flowering tower that rises out of the ashes of forest fires, bursts up from bare earth. (Carlyn Yandle photo)
The 91-year-old CEO of the Commonwealth did not deem 2016 another annus horribilis but it was one for the political history books.
 
It seems only fitting that these dark days broken up by unfathomable acts of insanity have unfolded in this part of the watery world against the backdrop of a record-breaking dark, bitter-cold West Coast winter and freak snowstorms followed by the soggiest spring in memory.
 
We need to get out from under the sky booming with construction cranes, beyond the billboards promising freedom through technological mobility, away from the toys that hold what American social critic Chris Hedges calls the mind-numbing pop-culture “spectacle” that distracts us from understanding the pretty heavy political reality in his country and the world at large.
 
What we need now is to get outside and breathe in all the evidence that shows that from destruction and turmoil inevitably sprouts new life, new understandings and revelations. It’s there in the cracks of the sidewalk or the muddy tracks of machinery, and in our own devastated hearts: renewal.
 
The natural world gives us hope. After a long winter of discomfort and disbelief we are no longer asleep at the wheel, no longer assuming, reacting or over-reacting. We are thawing out and waking up.
 
We are becoming.
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A dead tree limb is grounds for a pale green patch of lichen. (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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A baby huckleberry erupts from a massive stump, remnant from an old clear-cut. (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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irrational acts of tidying up and doodling a magical combo

1/20/2016

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Every time I turn around someone’s got her nose in Marie Kondo’s international bestseller book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up or they’re doodling zentangles. I’ve mixed both into one potent creative cocktail, an elixir for dismissing what The Artist’s Way author Julia Cameron refers to as the inner Censor.
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​First, the book: Not surprisingly, a quick poll among some of my artist friends reveals they do not see any wackiness in connecting feeling with an object or material, nor this seemingly illogical approach to letting go (which involves thanking those objects for their service). Those dedicated to their creative field know the importance of clearing the way to allow for the flow of new forms of expression.
 
Same goes for doodling. Despite what we may be told in high school or in the boardroom, doodling is a way to discard the mind-clutter and engage the senses. It helps me sharpen my thinking and reduce the fear of the blank page or canvas. The line is a path that shows me the way.
 
But allowing myself to take the time to ask myself if a handbag sparks joy or to fill a page with a doily-doodle does require a leap of faith in the unknown, and that’s where The Artist’s Way comes in.
 
I’ve been faithfully (although at first skeptically) following the assignments in each chapter with an artist friend over the past several months but it’s taken me up to week 8 of the 12-week ‘course’ to stop fighting the notion that creativity comes from a Higher Power. I reflexively recoil over any god talk yet I am finally seeing that we are merely the vehicles, the messengers, the conduits in creative expression. Part of this acceptance comes from the repeated scene I witnessed in art school when someone in class would inevitably rebel (‘Screw this crit;  I’ll do what I want!’) and suddenly experience a turning point in their emerging art practice.
 
Only when I truly give it all up do I find some astonishing, surprising outcomes. It’s enough to keep on keeping on in the tidying and the doodling and stop asking how it could possibly be related to my recent accomplishments.
 
Can’t write anymore now; gotta go thank my pants.
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A Mercedes-Benz ad image says a thousand words on the right-brain, left-brain divide.
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Public art tour by bike all part of the velorution

4/17/2015

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There is a symbiotic relationship between art and cycling. For me, I don’t get to work/play in the studio if I don’t get on my bike, and I don’t get my daily dose of hard-pumping exercise if I don’t go to the studio.

My father, a career artist and devoted cyclist, has long believed a cure to what ills is Dr. Bicycle. I take that to mean not just physical aches and pains but creative lethargy. Any artist who rides will tell you that inspiration often hits while she’s flying on two wheels.
PictureThe June 2007 ride shut down Lion's Gate bridge for 30 minutes and the Stanley Park Causeway that leads to it for 60 minutes. (Tavis Ford photo)
Cycling as daily transportation is pretty much mainstream in Vancouver’s downtown core now, but it took a lot of persistence by non-conformists and idealists to get it that way.  The early Critical Mass rides through the city’s main thoroughfares on the last Friday of every month were composed of a motley crew of creative-thinkers. When that critical mass of riders was reached, the infrastructure followed, thanks to a progressive city planning department and pedal-power-driven community leaders like Mayor Gregor Robertson, Gordon Price and Peter Ladner.

The bike has been my main mode for most of my life but I still feel like I'm playing a bit of Russian roulette every time I head out, even though negotiating city streets isn’t the life-risk it used to be. It’s mighty fine seeing old folks and tykes on bikes but you know there’s been a real sea change when you see guys in their 20s and 30s cruising the city on two wheels -- or maybe that’s all due to the new craft beer joints and weed stores. Drunk and stoned cyclists in traffic: not cool.



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Meanwhile, there are still quite a few art-loving folks in my world who only rarely, if ever, take to the bike paths but if there's ever a time, this is the season for it, and this weekend is the perfect time for some pedal-play.

May I suggest this art-cycling combo: the self-guided bike tour of some of the city’s temporary public artworks on display for the Vancouver Biennale. (Map and key at right.) 

PictureVancouver artist Marcus Bowcott's Trans Am Totem
Not listed on this tour is one work that will have particular resonance to the bike-loving bunch: Trans Am Totem, by Vancouver artist Marcus Bowcott.

If the promise of fabulous spring weather this weekend won't tempt you, this call to action video will:


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Epiphany: the studio is a workspace, not a salon

4/10/2015

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There was no getting around it -- literally. After a few weeks away from the studio I arrived viewing it with fresh yet loathsome eyes. There was no room to move here, let alone swing a cat. It suddenly dawned on me that the reason I bolted is I was enduring 'stuff-creep', working in little 12-inch-square surfaces and building nothing but resentment.

This is the typical love-hate relationship that makers have with the precious remaining studio spaces in a town transforming into a resort city of often-empty residential investment units. We have no choice but to think differently about how to make space to make, to reflect, to exchange ideas, to breathe.

A quick tour of the craigslist 'artists' category reveals how many locals are trying to hold onto their threatened studios.
One option is pack up everything and sublet it for part of the year to make enough coin to pay the always-increasing rents for the remaining months. Another is to sacrifice the space by subdividing it, or even share it in daily shifts by storing all work at the end of the day, like back in art school. Those of us who aren't (yet) willing to make that kind of sacrifice are constantly on the hunt to make the best use of the little space we have. This is how I've become addicted to garage storage porn.

Yes, while other people are checking their Facebook status or Instagramming or Angrybirding, I'm googling images of revamped New Jersey garages. My pulse races when I spot a particularly sexy idea that I can adapt for sorting paint, storing rolls of canvas or organizing all the found stuff essential to my sculptural work.
PictureMy uncle's workshop (Carlyn Yandle photo)
But while I was away I had an epiphany as I glimpsed into my very-skilled uncle's workshop. I've been doing it all wrong. I've been trying to contain and conceal my stuff when I should have been lining it all up to play.

I have been so bent on creating blank walls and empty surfaces by stowing my tools and materials in cubbies, under counters, in drawers and behind curtains that I didn't want the hassle of hauling it all out -- or putting it all back. The neatness has been paralyzing because just the thought of the clean-up is too high-maintenance. My thinking has been more salon than workshop. 

Now I see that seeing is everything and everything needs to be in its place but within eyesight and arm's length too. More like a working kitchen, or a ship's engineering room; less like an all-white micro-condo.

I am reminded of the old Gary Larson cartoon of the one rat saying to the other with hands on hips, "Crikey, it's supposed to look like a rat's nest."

***

Some working-studio ideas to steal, from one storage-porn addict to all the others out there:

PictureIkea knife magnets hold brushes so that they dry with the bristles down.
 

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Paint tubes hanging by bull clips. Why didn't I think of this?
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No more rummaging for tools hidden in boxes stored in cupboards
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Somewhere to put the ladder -- or rolls of canvas or paper
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Do-it-yourself idea for vertical deep storage of all those bins
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...and a way to get up to that storage: shelf stairs
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Who says sculpture has no business in business?

3/27/2015

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Picture"Unfixtures": Found lamp bases, utensils, gesso.
I liked the idea of messing with the overlooked and the banal to open up possible new understandings about preconceived notions.


There was something delicious about a collection of attractive objects -- flat white familiar forms at a personal/counter-top scale -- that is also just a little disturbing for its wrongness. Those little electrical cords suggest hazard. They seem to say, Whatever you do, don't plug us in, so in a sense they have some visual power.

I was thinking about Martha Rosler's groundbreaking feminist video, "Semiotics of the Kitchen" (1975 - edited version below) when I came up with my "Unfixtures" sculpture series.
Ah, the power of uncertain objects. What was an experiment in found-object sculpture is an eye-catching visual for a company in the business of creative work.


PictureEggbeater Creative's new brochure (Clay Yandle photo)
"I love the plug part," my brother Clay said in a text the other day, after sending me pics of his company's latest brochures and business cards. "It makes it real... like you could fire it up and it would start doing whatever the hell it would do."

Unfixtures are a permanent fixture (when they're not showing in a gallery) at my brother's office. One of the pieces in particular seemed to be speaking to him as he was trying to come up with a name for a new web-design/branding partnership a while back.

"It was the perfect storm of me trying so hard to come up with a name and just staring at the sculpture led me to understand how this business was the mix of two companies," he wrote. eggbeater creative was born.

"It was whimsical and interesting, and then there was the obvious part of the eggbeaters working as light bulb (idea) metaphors. The sculpture had traditionally conflicted parts, but they were together in a way that worked." 

The company logo (seen at the bottom left of the brochure in this image) riffs on the sculpture and the lower-case 'e'.

Below: A time-lapsed view of a painting commissioned for Eggbeater Creative:

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One bit, two bits, green bits, black bits

3/13/2015

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PictureToybits (green) - made from broken toys (Carlyn Yandle photo)
This may be the third or fourth column/post I've written that could come under the headline, 'Overthinking will be the death of me.' There is definitely a book in there somewhere about the power of overthinking to sabotage the creative process.

My latest overthinking sabotage occurred as I was experimenting with binding up broken toy bits (consciously not overthinking why).

I was taking care of my sister's kids while idly binding one green toy remnant to another. At some point, the curious object appeared to be done. And it was good.

It's an intriguing object but when photographed is also a visually absorbing abstract. It has richness in its ability to conflate the second and third dimensions. It is heavy with cultural reference yet lightly humorous.

I was onto something.

PictureToybits (black) - final version (Carlyn Yandle photo)
After a couple of hours I quit because it clearly would have no logical endpoint. But if there's one thing I've learned about the creative process it's to let the failures hang around and stink up the joint for a while. In my experience, the only way to get to the source of the stench is to keep it in the periphery. And a couple of days later it came to me: I was so hell-bent on the outcome I had completely negated the making, which, when referring back to the green toy-bits cluster, was the essence of the thing: play. 

I took it all apart, then started over, finding the fit between one bit to another bit, then adding one bit where it fit. (Maybe the book should be in Dr. Seuss language).

It had a beginning and an end, and the entire process was an adventure without a map. The result is a sculptural object with implied power that appears as part engine, part vehicle, part robot. It has composition, balance, architecture, intriguing sight lines and varying perspectives. It has something to tell me: Your instincts are good, keep going.

From the junk of life emerges new life.

You can see it in the above photo; it's a mess. Even as I was binding it I thought, This is not working, this is not working. Why is this not working? It has no balance, no composition. it is artless. And it was a chore from the get-go.
PictureToybits (black): first attempt (Carlyn Yandle photo)
So, like every creative I know,  the ol' mental processor starting whirring away in the background, rolling over this concept. Friends and I talk about this slightly obsessive stage when developing a new work. You're still functional in your daily routine but that whirring puts you in a slightly distracted state. It's sort of like falling in love; there's always something there to remind you of that growing passion. And when I fall in love with an idea, I fall hard. I'm consumed by the topic like the Paul Rudd character in The 40-Year-Old Virgin who can't stop talking about Amy or The Big Lebowski's John Goodman character who links any conversation to his days in 'Nam.

I've been seeing toy-bits inspiration everywhere, including in a car column in the morning newspaper. The picture of an engine reminded me of the toy-bits clusters and suddenly I was shoving aside breakfast dishes and breakfasting people and dumping my hoard of broken toys onto the table.

I will make that engine-y thing, I said. And therein lies the fatal flaw.

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Exhibit of a great mistake was just the push I needed

2/27/2015

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PictureVancouver-based creative force Omer Arbel and Monte Clark teamed up to embrace the power of happy accidents (Carlyn Yandle photo)
Last week Monte Clark gave four of us some insight into how an experiment by Omer Arbel went awry and ended up as a dazzling installation in his newish Monte Clark Gallery. 

The heavy, glittering swags appear as silver-dipped coral or precious Crown hardware retrieved after a palace inferno. The hardened bits of chaos are a dazzling example of why failure is vital in the push for new ideas and materials.

"Failure is a constant companion," says  Vancouver-based creative force Arbel, in Vancouver Magazine.

It was the perfect preface for my '3 artworks a day for five days' challenge that bounced over to me on Facebook. 

Risk is essential in my work but I don't have Arbel's creative empire to absorb expensive failures, so I turned to stuff lying around the house (a.k.a. Found Domestic Materials) in my thrice-daily experiments. The way I see it, the materials used below were already deemed waste, so if the tests didn't work out, so what? At least no new materials were harmed in the making.

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Paint chips as log cabin quilt block (Carlyn Yandle photo)

Day 2:

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"Toybits": cluster of plastic toy fragments. (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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Reorganizing broken toys with kids II (Carlyn Yandle photo)

Day 3:

Day 1:

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Re-organizing broken toy bits with kids (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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Playing with typography, New York Times Style Magazine (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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Reworking one coffee bag (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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Collages of mid-century women's magazines (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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Collages of mid-century women's magazines (Carlyn Yandle photo)

Day 4:

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Collages of mid-century women's magazines (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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Grid collage from New York Times Style magazine (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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Grid collage from New York Times Style magazine (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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Exhausted from doing grid collage using NYT magazine (Carlyn Yandle photo)

Day 5:

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Broken toy amalgam inspired by morning newspaper (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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Idea for a feature wall or screen, using inserts from wine bottle wood crates (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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'Girl with Hole in her Head' possible title of random wire-as-drawing play (Carlyn Yandle photo)
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Defending the doily in 20 images, 20 seconds each

1/23/2015

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This just uploaded... Six and a half minutes devoted to that question I get a lot:
"What's up with the doilies?"

(Video courtesy of Terry Fox Theatre's PechaKucha program. More info on the entertaining, informative and globally-popular PechaKucha format here.)
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