James

Myself, James, and Cornelia Gardella at the opening at Open Spaces Gallery, July 2010. Copyright The CTB and SHR Trust, used by permission

James and his newly released autobiography, Convergence July 2010

James Koehler passed away unexpectedly March 3^rd, 2011.  He taught until the day he died and I think that says something real about him.

(Update 3/4/13: James actually died on March 4th in the early hours of the morning.)

James occupies a complicated place in my heart.  He was a committed and exceptional teacher and was generous with his time and talents.  He loved teaching and felt that passing on the knowledge of creation – of making things especially in tapestry – was important.  My journey with James, which has come to an end before it should have, is marked by my own struggle to find my way as an artist while learning from an accomplished teacher who had some very specific ideas about tapestry and art.  We agreed on many things, and disagreed on others.  But one of the most important things that James taught me was about getting to the essential nature of something.  He believed that you have to question and ponder (and perhaps meditate) and understand who you are—and from that place you can express something that is meaningful and useful in the world.  I think that James was able to do this in his own art and he encouraged me to do this in my work.

I think of my years working in his studio and often remember things in pictures and in feelings—the brilliant wall of yarn that is in so many photos of his studio, the well-used student looms, the Cranbrook I used, the worn weaving tools the apprentices used to wind warp and yarn, his particular dyeing process so different from my own… I hear him calling from his 8 foot loom, “just let me know if you have questions!” And one older student saying, “I’m coming to a question now.”  James would invariably reply cheerfully, “I’ll be right there.”

James often said, “That’s bizarre!” and I hear his voice every time someone uses that word.  He loved stories and the studio was often full of chatter.  Other times he was focusing on something and only the classical music station would accompany the loom beaters clacking.

The door to Koehler studio was always open.  James welcomed visitors regardless of who they were and when they were showing up.  He could be hard-pressed to make a deadline for a commission but would stop weaving to give anyone who knocked on his studio door a tour.  He was unfailingly open-hearted with strangers and the pages in his studio guest book were frequently filled.

I was fortunate enough to get to do a three-year project with James and Cornelia Theimer Gardella.  We were hanging our tapestry show, Interwoven Traditions: New Mexico and Bauhaus in Michaeliskirche in Erfurt, Germany 6 months before he died—to the day.  There are some links to my posts about the two shows we did together, including photos, below.

James touched many people’s lives—perhaps we each knew a slightly different person.  But I know that the people who worked with him the most took something away from their experience with this extraordinary man which will live on even though he is now gone.  I have received many emails and phone calls from people expressing their condolences.  I want to thank you all for that.  I will miss him as will many many people. 

I believe that this is an opportunity to look at James’ life and ask ourselves, those of us who benefited from his influence, what we can do in the future to carry on his work.  He was a strong supporter of tapestry as an art form and worked hard to have tapestry accepted as a mainline medium instead of being just a craft pursuit.  I believe that we as fiber artists have a long way to go to finish this work.

James, no one can replace you.  I thank you for your time and tireless energy and for being my teacher.  I hope that I can continue some of the work that you started especially since you had to leave so soon.

James at Michaeliskirche in Erfurt, Germany, September 2010

James in Erfurt at the Interwoven Traditions opening, September 5th, 2010 photo:Hamish John Appleby

I have written about our project, Interwoven Traditions: New Mexico and Bauhaus before.  Here are some links to those posts:
The photos of the opening at Michaeliskirche, Erfurt, Germany.

Further photos of the opening in Germany.

James, Conni, and I hanging the Germany show.

Some photos from the Albuquerque show.

James' website is here.

All content copyrighted Rebecca Mezoff, 2011 unless otherwise stated.

Summer in New Mexico?

It is warm here today.  It feels like 70 though I think it is probably only 50 degrees Fahrenheit.  I am hoping not to have to use my tire chains for the rest of the year, though I would really like some more snow.  When it stops snowing early, the forests burn... and that is hard on a long distance hiker (not to mention the forests).

January 22nd, Weaving Southwest had an opening for their new show.  This is a frequent event and I don't always hear about them... but more frequent examination of the Tempo section of The Taos News has helped me find out about this one a couple hours before it happened.

The show looked lovely.  There were some beautiful tapestries by Kathy Perkins that I hadn't seen before.

Pieces by many people including: Donna Loraine Contractor, Karen Benjamin, Sherri Woodard Coffey, Kathy Perkins,  Teresa Loveless, Mary Cost, and LaDonna Mayer.

Piece on the bottom left is my Emergence II.

Top center is my Halcyon Days II, below it is Sherri Woodard Coffey, middle right is Donna Loraine Contractor.

And here is a sneak peak at the piece I finished last month.  I am having some trouble getting a good photograph of it, so here is a detail.
I visited Weaving Southwest again Friday to drop off a photo book I had made of my work to show prospective collectors.  As I walked in the door, the lovely Tara told me she had just finished a check for me.  Isn't is great to walk into your gallery and have someone hand you an unexpected check?  It is a little less shocking than the news below...

In other news:
One morning last week I found this little guy on my dining room table.  "Dining room table" is a euphemism for "card table covered with bed-sheet table cloth."  In my defense, there is a REAL table, but it is currently in "Your Other Closet" somewhere in Mississippi.
I have never before seen a slug in New Mexico, but there he was plain as day, leaving a slimy trail across the spot I was going to eat my granola.  He was also deceased, having dessicated sometime in the night (he missed the memo on low humidity levels).  After some sleuthing I realized he had taken a ride home in a mint plant we had bought at Trader Joe's and placed on the shelf over the table.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Ikat queen Polly Barton

I just read a great interview with Polly Barton on a blog called Handful of Salt.  Polly makes the most wonderful ikat creations.  I can stand in front of her work forever (mostly thinking, HOW does she DO that?).  But once I get past the "Holy crap!  It is NOT possible to do that with fiber!" moment, her work is just stunning.  Her website is wonderful.  Check out her gallery.

She is teaching at Penland School of Crafts this summer.  Oh how I wish I could go!

Here is some of the yarn from my last big dye run in January.  Much of it isn't being used in the current piece, but will be in the future.

Fright and the hope for community...

How fast the world we assume to be stable can change.  Oh, I'm fine as are all the people I love... but some days help wake me up a little faster than others.

Northern New Mexico, where I live, is in the middle of a natural gas crisis.  As I understand it, there were blackouts in Texas which decreased power to plants that pressurized the natural gas that much of NM uses.  Since there wasn't enough gas, to keep the pressure up in the metro areas of Santa Fe and Albuquerque, they shut the gas off to the small cities at the end of the line.  I live in one of those cities.

I was in a small northern New Mexico village working at the elementary school on Thursday afternoon when the power shut off with a thump.  It was a relief actually because suddenly the heaters were quiet... and I realized the whole building was quieter (partly because all the electric door holders let go and the classroom doors shut).  But when I went into classrooms, the people were calmer.  Kids were working on their assignments or working calmly with each other and it felt like everything had been taken down a notch... for a few hours.

Then news started filtering in about the natural gas emergency and panic started flying through the community.  The tribe had an emergency meeting, parents were coming in droves to pull their kids out of school... people were wondering what on earth they were going to do without electricity or gas when the temperature the night before was -25 and was currently barely above zero.  Many people live in trailers.  It was scary.  The line at the gas station (the only one in town) was 100 cars long--waiting for the power to come back so they could pump some gas and hopefully get to somewhere with heat.  The maintenance crews were turning off water to school housing to avoid busted pipes.  Then the power came back on.  And the heat came back on.  And that switch which had been turned to the "we're a community, we need to help each other out" flipped back to "business as usual".

At home in Velarde, the gas is still out.  The neighborhood is very quiet and I am guessing most people have gone to relatives houses in cities with gas... or are huddled in front of electric heaters (electricity use is up 60%), or if they're lucky they have a woodstove and a good supply of firewood. The gas won't be back until Monday or Tuesday or maybe even later.  The gas company has to go to every single house and turn the gas off, then come back and turn it on again a day or two later.

How fast could our grid be disrupted?  It takes one plant in Texas for communities in New Mexico to freeze to death in the coldest weather we've had in 50 years.  Our power grids are huge.  So are our food grids.

I am one of the lucky ones.  I live on a mesa just outside of town so I have propane.  My propane tank today is still 20% full and the company says they can come and bring me more this week.  I have asked my friends in Taos if they need a warm place to stay or a shower, but they have all fended for themselves quite nicely.  We are a resourceful people I suppose.  Maybe we should use this resourcefulness to figure out how to create better systems--local food systems and local power grids.

I just finished reading Eaarth by Bill McKibben and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.  That might have been obvious from the slant of my thoughts above.  I recommend these books, in fact I think everyone should read them.  They are revolutionary and necessary.  If we don't listen to our planet and learn to live in community, we will not survive as a species.  It is already too late.  We have to create a different world.  Starting now.

2011 so far...

So far 2011 has not been quite as smooth as I would have hoped, and I believe today is only January 9.  It is just the little things like dropping a glass jar on your big toe (when the other big toe is infected from an ingrown toenail).  I went out to start my car Friday night to go to some gallery openings in Santa Fe--you know, a fun evening out with friends, and it made a horrible clicking sound, the lights on the dash jumped in weird frantic little ways, and it made no attempt to turn over whatsoever.  We got out Emmy's jumper cables (brand new and fabulous), but this effort did not change the frantic machinations of the 2000 Volkswagen Golf (with 219,000 miles now). Visions of tow trucks have danced in my head ever since.  I have loved this car a lot.  It has never demanded any major maintenance jobs and I fear this may be the week when she wants something major replaced.

It is the little things this week that made me wonder if this year is bound for glory or something a little rougher.  I woke up in my work trailer with a swollen eye which made it look like I had been crying all night (related to another infection)... which I decidedly hadn't though work didn't smell much like roses this week either... and my most comfortable jeans just sprung a large rip in an inappropriate place.

My body may be riddled with infections, advancing wrinkles, and an incipient "muffin top", but it was a beautiful day in northern New Mexico.  The below-zero weather has left for the time being, the sun is out, and the mountains are gleaming under their blanket of snow.  I'm stirring my dye pots and enjoying the sunshine.

My sister made these fantastic socks for Christmas for Emmy and I.  Aren't they fantastic?  Check out the cable on the back of this one.

I was at the New Mexico History Museum Friday night and saw this poem.  Mount Blanca is a 14,000 foot peak in southern Colorado which is one of the sacred mountains of the Navajo people.  I used to live at the base of it.

Blanca Peak is adorned with white shell.
Blanca Peak is adorned with morning light...
She is the brightness of spring.
She is changing woman returned...
Because of her we think and create
Because of her we make songs.
Because of her, the designs appear as we weave.
Because of her, we tell stories and laugh.

--Lucy Tapahonso, Navajo (Dine) poet
"This is how they were placed here for us" 1997

May 2011 be full of learning, expansion, and hope despite the sometimes frightening state of the world.

Tapestry cartoons

I (egocentrically) always assumed that everyone did tapestry cartoons like I did.  But recent discussions on the tapestry list seem to indicate that some people even weave tapestry without (gasp) a cartoon.  I aspire to this level of freedom, but doubt my somewhat controlled personality will allow me to get there any time soon.  Here are some photos of my cartoon process taken while I was working on Emergence II earlier this year.

I draw the initial design fairly small and then bring it to a photocopy place that makes blueprints to enlarge.  They can get at least one dimension any size I want (and both dimensions if I keep my initial drawing in proportion).  Then I transfer it to acetate (sometimes--sometimes I just use the paper... but have to remember to reverse the design as I weave from the back!  Acetate you can just flip over before transferring it to the warp).

Drawing the design in two colors (so I can keep track of which part of the design is which) on the acetate.

Then I transfer the lines to the warp.  This has to be done repeatedly while weaving as the warp advances.

Here the tapestry is finished by still on the loom with the cartoon hanging behind it.

And eventually you have a new tapestry!

Emergence II Rebecca Mezoff 45 x 45 inches; hand-dyed wool tapestry

Now if I had only gotten the next cartoon ready before the day before New Year's Eve.  It seems that the two copy shops I have used to blow up cartoons are closed until Monday January 3rd.  This will inhibit my beginning a new tapestry unless I can screw up my courage and enlarge my drawing freehand. 

Further uses for ironing boards...

When I moved into this rental house there were two extra ironing boards in the storage building.  I have put them to good use!  And I even sometimes use my own for actually putting one of those hot steamy things on my wrinkled clothing in a futile attempt to look more professional when I go to the paying job.

I had a prior post about uses for ironing boards (related to weaving).  Here are a couple more.

Ironing boards have very adjustable heights--good for tall people.  And the padding helps keep things like warping boards and dowels holding wet yarn from slipping.  I imagine there are thousands of other uses for them that I have not yet experienced.  Mostly one just needs the occasional portable work surface.  (Of course the people who know me might just say that I should clean the other surfaces in my studio.)