SistahCraft

Flower Power! The Blossom Of Fiber in Harlem

 (Fabulous fiberistas! From left to right: Fern Gillespie, Laura Gadson, Michelle Bishop*, Veronica Kerton-Johnson, Rosa Walker, Gail Edwards, Urmie D. Seenarine, Patricia Williams, Audrey Weaver, Edna Johnson, Anna Alvrez, Valerie Deas, Joann Boris-Salley, Ife Felix, Shimoda. Not shown: Me, Dindga McCannon, Jackquelyn Jones, Ketney Jean-Francois, Lisa Daehlin, Sherry Shine, Willena Nanton. Photo by Gerald Peart. All pics enlarge).

Until now, I disliked fake flowers as mockery––think cheesy silk blooms with a drop of clear acrylic on a petal to masquerade as water. Flowers rendered in needlework can look even worse; a parody, rendered with limited skill in a medium totally not suited to the plant or flower being reproduced (I fell victim to the latter last year. My attempt to crochet apple roses in a timely fashion, turned out so poor I dropped out of the show). But, what if such super-realist ambitions were abandoned? What would be the outcome of the desire to cultivate using mediums and techniques of intimate acquaintance, to create plants and flowers that spoke to feelings? Or were spiritual messengers? Or just plain happy and fun to look at? 

A Damn Cute, Bloomin' Show, That's What

This year's exhibition brought together 22 artists, producing flower and plant sculpture in a luscious bouquet of styles, spanning the spectrum of fiber art––just about every which way you could work your hands was worked.

(Flower as memorial; They Used To Hang Out Here, by Dindga McCannon. Machine and hand embroidery, machine applique and writing, hand printing, digital transfer). 

The restrictions by the NYC Parks Department that dictated the mode of display (art must be placed in pots, cannot touch anything, etc., etc.,), didn't tame our creativity; indeed it was the catalyst for an outpouring of work which turned even brighter when the sun blessed us, and ignited conversation among viewers and participants concerning the aesthetic value of "fake" flowers.

Art vs Affectation? The People Have Spoken

(These beautiful, well executed pansies are from Valerie Deas. Hand cut, quilted, machine and hand assembly).

 My photos don't do justice to the artwork. In fact, the feedback from the viewers I spoke with, have become a kind of benchmark for my own artistic exploration in dealing with nature's flora––they aren't meant to be copied.

"I don't want a reminder of what I can't grow; it should be just art."

"These look better than what I have in my garden and require less care, too."

"I hate silk flowers. These are more like art. I could have one in my living room."

"I love silk flowers, but these are different." 

Whether rendered, re-imagined or totally recherché, the comments by viewers on both sides of the grass was that hey, if it's done well enough to elicit recognition and an emotive reaction––other than the neutral pleasantness of silk mimics? It's winning.

Here are more examples:

(Ampelopsis Agripeta Amor "Veni, Vidi, Vici**"; Hand-spun wool vines incorporating hand cut, stamped and painted felt leaves, needlefelted berries, and florist wire; constructed trellis from found branches, cotton string. by Sahara Briscoe––me).

  (Future flora! This very popular crochet burst was created by Urmie D. Seenarine).

(The rendering of these knitted sunflowers, right down to the seed stitch dirt was genius! Touch of Gold, by Rosa Walker, adapted from 100 Flowers To Knit & Crochet, by Leslye Stanfield. Veined leaf pattern by C.Comb).

(Little Green Me; machine pieced, multi-media formed face. Laura Gadson).

What Are Those Numbers?

The numbers aided the judges in their selection of flora to be shown at the inauguration of the community gallery at the City College of New York in the fall. Here's a big shout out to the judges!

(Excluding Michelle, from left: Tara Powell, of Barbara's Flowers, Jerry Grant, Artist, Isisara Bey, V.P. of Count Me In, Katrina Parris of Katrina Parris Flowers).

  

 And a huge thanks and shout out to my sisters Michelle Bishop and Laura Gadson for making it happen and giving me the opportunity to plant the seeds of my own artistic growth!

*Michelle Bishop, Producer

**The latin identifier is made up.

The Revolution STILL Won't Be Televised!

  

(Gil Scott Heron at Summerstage, Harlem; all pics enlarge.)

Honestly? I was embarrassed to feel a tiny knot of internal scepticism, walking through Marcus Garvey Park. Yes, it was early––about 6 in the eve––but diggin' the audience, and seeing the lawn behind the chairs looking very closed, I speculated if this would be the extent of the show. For free?  I know Gil has some issues, but that's not the point––he hasn't disappeared, as critics claimed.

But hey––this loyal fan was here to hold down a good spot to include 2 fab friends; no small feat, 'cause in a mere half hour the crowd massed to a coupla' thousand, becoming difficult to defend my ever shrinking patch of grass. 

Thankfully, before my knot metastasized into misgiving, my sistah-friends showed up, folding chairs got set up––and the poet strolled onto the stage.

Gil gave a fabulous performance. The cigarette cultivated gravel accumulated in his voice, had not yet buried it. He regaled us with his bullet-proof banter, classic songs and a piece from his new CD "I'm New Here", a title he found amusing ("'cause I been here"). He bigged up his band members, with both Kim Gordan (electric piano) and Charles Saunders (congas) each playing a selection from their new CD's. And for those of you who've been there, he rocked his encore with the perennial street anthem "The Bottle"––whoooee!

Our Crowd

I tell you; what could be better than enjoying this iconic brother, with friends and fiber? It's the best, spinning to the originator of revolutionary soul.  Shimoda, sporting her super-tight shades, brought along needlework.

 

Laura Gadson's (below) actually giving her hands a rest; when you see her work, you'll understand why.

I'm sending a special shout out to my compadre, king of the one line, the positively poetic artist Sir Shadow––thanks for your terrific calendar, it' always so good to see you, my brother.

The Why And For What

The major thank you has to go to Ms. Josy Dussek and The City Parks Foundation for organizing this event––you rock! 

People, whether you travel to here, live here (or been here), please support this indie nonprofit organization responsible for making our parks the places to be, and yet another reason for all you artisans and crafters to enjoy these inner-city idylls.

And a big thanks to  you, Gil Scott––because you've always been here for us.

 

Addendum:

Gil Scott Heron died yesterday, May 27, 2011 at St. Luke's Hospital in New York City. Gil, I miss you.

Hail Victoria!––The Mini Cooper of Spinning Wheels

(The Spinner-escape. All pics enlarge)

While my sisters-in-Spin City joined the multitude of fiber heads, knitterati and other zealots from all over the eastern seaboard and beyond, to make the pilgrimage to the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival this weekend, I was right here spinning. Yes folks, spinning on my fire-escape––sarcastically referred to by some, as the ghetto terrace (Hmmph. The folks who coined that dis haven't lived). It was totally fab! Victoria provided me with the solace I needed from not attending the fest due to my self-imposed fleece ban.

Staring at the fire escape the other day, the idea bulb over my head lit up. Though I'm definitely fond of spinning and knitting in the park, I'm not always down for a craft demo or answering questions––I just want to work outside without participating in other folks lives. And since I use my terrace for almost everything else, why not spin there? Faster than the turn of a knit row, I got my wheel and a folding stool. I placed the stool securely on the metal lats, my bag of fiber under it; Victoria took her place at the opposite end, and vóila––I spun for a coupla' hours high above the heads of passerby, discreetly adumbrated by the cloud of adolescent leaves, taking in the street life below and the warm sun above. It was urban nirvana.

 A Foot Powered Compact

(Rather than a squeeze, a shift in perspective; I'm actually a lot farther back.)

I bought my Louet Victoria (named after the company owner's grandbaby) a few years ago after taking the one my gurl Chanté owned for a spin (catch the car comparison). I fell in love with the wheel's portability, design and weight––the same as the baby's at birth. If you're interested in a thorough review of this dynamo, Abby Franquemont gives an excellent one. 

Sunday, I'm spinning on the grassy knoll at St. Nicholas Park in Harlem, as the weather should be terrific. Like the Mini, Victoria is stable enough for me to place her on the grass itself; I park my butt, sit back and whizz! And trust me folks, I'ma put as much mileage on my bobbins as the Cooper S Convertible per gallon.

 Then There's The Fiber                                                                    

(Imagine holding sparkling fireworks in your hand; a bespoke cloud made by Steph Gorin of Loop Yarn, Garnerville, N.Y.).

I hope those of you who made it to MDSW stopped by her booth and spent, because her batts and yarns are all that. I'll be blowing her up in a subsequent post, but for now? It's a merino/alpaca combo with some angelina thrown in for sparkle and a few neps for texture. I bought 4 ounces (113 grams) to sample, that will morph into knit gloves. I'll drop the yarn  knowledge in the sidebar. Ancestors! The yarn was buttah! Check it out. 

 Peace and sheep fleece everyone! Have a Happy Mother's Day!

  (A ply in the sky!)

 

Mayday! Mayday! New York Now

(*Do they know what this year is? All pics enlarge.)

Aw-w-righty now. If you're either visiting, or in New York City this month, see and do Harlem––here's the latest from the Knitter-At-Large!

Soulful Stitching At The Schomburg Center

   (Pride––a deeper love; photo by Henry John Drewal, co-curator.)

After seeing this show, I bought the book Siddis and Scholars: Essays on African Indians. In my next post I'll review this exhibition in depth,  but at this moment go and see the works of these Christian, Muslim and Hindu sisters united by a common African ancestry. The quilts, known as Kawandi are the most visually arresting I've seen in a long time! (see sidebar for details). 

In the upstairs gallery is Harlem Views/Diasporan Visions: The New Renaissance Photographers. A big shout out to my peeps Kenya L. Smith and Shawn Walker for keeping the global, cross-cultural reference book current!

 

 

Movies With A Mission: The Maysles Cinema in Harlem

  (Hellura Lyle of Doc Watchers curated the films I saw on Monday night; you GO, sister!)

My tears flowed openly throughout Valery Lyman's One Of Those Mornings, a film seamlessly blending the past with the present via the journey from our fight for voting rights in the 60's, to the election of President Obama. The soundtrack featured a call in of messages from voters across the country! This was one of three short films from Doc Watchers Inc., a community-based documentary film screening series in Harlem. Forthcoming subjects at the Maysles are Old School (think Soul Train to Kool Moe Dee), Lee Scratch Perry, a corporate food fight (Bananas!), and forgiveness.

 

 

*If You Don't, There's Still Time

I'm gonna' wonder out loud why so many folks don't know that this year is the United Nations International Year For People Of African Descent. I'm giving a HUGE shout out to Yara Costa for mentioning this crucial year at Maysles. Her awareness raising film Why Are They Here? Chinese Stories In Africa is part of the 18th New York African Film Festival (see sidebar for link). Well people, you still have time to get in the know-ledge. So, on May 20th I'm asking the ancestors––and you do what you need to––for an exemplary evening, weather-wise. In partnership with The Big Screen Project, the AFF presents Soy Cuba (I Am Cuba). A seminal film back in the day (1964), and an iconic one in the present, it is beautiful, harsh, insightful. I'll leave you with this.

 

 

 

 

 

Space Is The Place

(Can you spot the spinners? The David Rubenstein Atrium at Lincoln Center, NYC. All pics enlarge)

 

Whorling around town on Monday evenings with the super-swell Spin City Meet-up has made me emphatically aware of the value of decent public space––woefully lacking in this city.  What constitutes decency? Well, I reckon we've met in a space with nightclub lighting (the SONY atrium), an abandoned performance space (the former Altria branch of the Whitney Museum), a colossal palm preserve (the World Financial Center's Winter Garden), and a sub-basement (30 Rockefeller Center), among others. In the sparingly grandiose atrium lobby of the latter, your subterranean descent is brilliantly camouflaged by Joie – Crystal Waterfall, a mind-bogglingly breathtaking chandelier. A HUGE shout out to Hanna Birmans, the young woman who planned out and with another woman tied the knots––talk about interlacement! That is craft.

An Unassuming Surprise

If you're looking for a sophisticated, but pleasant needlework respite, the above photo speaks for itself. Claudy Jongstra's  fiber wall, and the vertical gardens both soothed and wowed me entering this superb atrium, artfully housing the day-of-discount ticket center for the Lincoln Center campus; it also duplifies as a performance space. Comfortable furniture, appropriate lighting and free wi-fi (in case you forgot your pattern and need to look it up).  The  'Witchcraft Cafe has fine food and a small bar––totally adult. The overall effect the space seemingly has on visitors besides enjoyment, is one of respect; the unisex bathroom was extraordinarily clean without the constant presence of a custodian. I was duly impressed. This is the place to be. Catch a free performance, knit a few rows, sip a few drinks, spin a yarn.

A big shot out to my fellow spinners, especially Jody, who I hadn't seen since our annual holiday party. We helped her learn to spin; now she turned up with a Louet Victoria––you GO girl! And a huge hug to Donna, a spectacular spinner, Tech Designer to the Marc Ecko Empire, and our intrepid organizer, guiding our caravan throughout the city.