A bit about the weaving process: I create the images with photographs, drawings on paper, and digital tools. The weave structures and fibers differ from piece to piece. They are as significant as the image. I engineer each piece, focusing on the technical specifications, and prepare a digital file. Then I weave a test and I weave the piece. The images emerge from the cloth, line by line (weft by weft). Its magic.

My recent series of works on paper combines several different ingredients:  the leaves and flowers in my garden and nearby, abstract compositions which sometimes  incorporate objects lying around the house, and monotype prints.  I use a mixed-media and layered technique starting with a background wash of acrylics, followed by a stenciled layer, then a final layer of color pencils and/or Prismacolor art stix to render the leaves and other motifs.  

Through Passages, I explore moments of transcendence that happen against the intense chatter of everyday contemporary life. Using found textiles, paper ephemera and wax paint I witness the apparently mundane nature of my days as a mother and grownup, much like traditional quilters used fabric and thread to do. Stepping back to see the rhythm of repetition in my days, I wonder, “Is there beauty here?”

I often start with a pieced layer of shopping and to do lists, receipts, article clippings, calendars and maps— fragments of my daily infrastructure. After painting a foundation of transparent color over the collage, I layer fabric netting which leaves impressions in the encaustic. Then I look for the hundreds of pathways that are left to slowly refine and carve into the surface. I scrape through layers of field color, excavating words and deeds, once important, that got buried in my race to the next thing.

The title Passages refers to time marked through these repetitive gestures, and echoes traditional stitch work.  It also refers to text and storytelling as seen in rows of through lines that appear to flow from left to right. Patterns emerge and suggest a sonorous, calm hum rising out of the hectic daily buzz. And, yes, there is unexpected beauty in these long days and short years.

I believe in making the most of my hands, therefore I weave, knit or embroider. Being able to touch is very important to me and I love tactile items. I always encourage people to touch my work. I intertwine my energy of recycling/reusing with emotions, experiences, observations and conversations. Majority of the items I use, are gathered from various places, situations and people. My theory is, every discarded item has another use before it gets tossed into our over flowing landfills. With that theory, I see it as my responsibility to see items are reused, just as items are recycled in the blue bins. Depending in the mood or mode I am in, I'll weave, knit or embroider just about anything. I see many different possibilities in the future. I also, see many different possibilities in one item.

When foreclosures began to occur in the early 2000’s, as a former urban planner, I was acutely aware of the impact this would have on our cities. However, very little was mentioned in the news about the real causes of the crisis and how widespread it had become. I began to create quilts of foreclosures maps in the hopes of capturing people’s attention around the crisis. Quilts act as a functional memory, an historical record of difficult times. The quilts are pieced together using the block patterns taken from neighborhood maps. Within these, foreclosed lots are shown as holes in the quilts. The lot locations are completely random and they yield an unexpected beauty when laid out on fabric. These torn holes question the protective nature of a quilt. The neighborhoods shown are not an anomaly; they are a recurring pattern seen from coast to coast, urban to suburban neighborhoods across the US.

Kathryn also writes a blog to inspire and inform other artists who work in the unique genre called Articraft: artists who use craft in their work and craftspeople who make art:
www.kathrynclark.blogspot.com

I am a maker. My path started with macrame and sewing as a child, but knitting was the lingua franca I found in my twenties. The needle arts, traditionally associated with domesticity, are at once a display of femininity and a feminist statement. I have always straddled different worlds, whether through my mixed-race heritage or the mutually demanding roles of mother and artist. I am accustomed to the interplay and at home in the places where art and craft intersect.

The works shown here are part of a current series inspired by fairytales and legends. Although several pieces, such as "Girl in a Box", have strong political elements, the series is primarily an exploration of visual art as an aspect of storytelling. All story-telling is participatory--you must have a teller and a
listener. Art is participatory--you must have a maker of art and a
viewer. In the moment of interaction between the artist’s act of making art and the viewer's act of responding to the art, a new piece of art is produced, something unique that may only last for that moment of looking. According
to Maya Angelou “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold
story inside you.” That is very true but, I would add, speaking of my
own art-making, that there is no greater joy than to have told a good
story.