EmilyDvorin

My family and friends have  always asked me what my everyday looks like. They inquire what my studio life feels like. They wonder what the life of an artist is about. They ask what does "doing your art" mean. Let me attempt to answer, in some more detail, what my day is like...

Typically, I arrive at my studio door with latte and salad in hand, ready to spend some delicious hours concentrating on a piece I am working on. My attitude is always up-beat, anticipatory, excited, when I put the key in the door, flick on the lights, take off my jacket, put on some music and sit down at my worktable, in front of my expanse of windows.  I very soon get involved with my piece. It is mostly a quiet and solitary involvement with the particulars of the process that is ongoing from day to day. The continuity is wonderful to return to. The logistics, problem-solving aspect of the process of doing my art are the pleasures for me. Figuring out each next step keeps me thinking and helps the work evolve. I can easily be at my worktable for hours, concentrating, focusing, working away and not realize that time has passed and that I should maybe get up and move, (or even go to the bathroom!). I am in a form of heaven.
Working on a piece gets to be a deeply powerful experience for me. I sit, I stand and look at all sides of my piece, I poke or sew or weave or pull or push with the materials. Right now I am working on a piece that has taken months to execute. I am at the point of seeing it almost finished. I have gone through the stages of envisioning the work as a whole, putting the various materials together , working intently on the different sections and fitting it all together. I started with pieces of suede and cable ties, in as many colors as I could come up with. I had to decide how I was going to use them with each other, what I was going to "say" in the piece and what the title would be. The title became "Excuses". I came up with a new way of working with cable ties. I embroidered with them, forming words, piercing through the suede, cutting the cable ties off at the "butts". These single words, mostly adverbs expressing excuses like "but", "also", "later", "still", I put onto patches of colorful suede and then had to figure out how to connect them and fit them onto armatures of metal hanging plant hangers.  I have two bowl like shapes that relate to each other and can be displayed either hanging in a pair or sitting on a large pedestal leaning against each other. All along, I was spending time deciding which way to place things, how to attach things, what the ultimate result would be. There is that moment when I cut something or fit something, or place something that always feels like a risk. That is the rewarding moment. I think being an artist for so many years gives me the confidence to "go for it".

When I look up or take a break from my work, I remember my "universe". I do have a studio in a stimulating community of artists in the ICB building in Sausalito, after all. I am a social being and do enjoy talking with other artists surrounding me. I'll walk down the hall to visit or hear a knock on my door and sit down on my couch with another artist for a conversation or even stop for lunch. I have two studio mates who have somewhat different schedules than I do. We always are thrilled when we actually are all there. We each work seriously on our work, but love to chat when we can. I, mostly reluctantly, pack up my pouch, taking some part of the work that I can bring with me to work on at night, and go home.
This is my world. It is the love of my life...

Comment (0)

Did you ever go to an exhibit and want so badly to TOUCH a piece of art that you see? Being a 3-dimensional fiber artist, I "itch" to feel some pieces I see in exhibits. I know it is not appropriate behavior. I understand that if many people touch a piece, it might be affected or even damaged.

I encourage people to touch my work. How can I make such tactile, textural, prickly pieces and expect people to not be tempted to reach out and feel or stroke them? I understand the urge and I am glad to provoke the desire. There is only one instance that makes me cringe, when people say "Oh, this would make a great hat!", and they actually pick up one of my baskets and turn it over and put it on their heads. (This happens more times than I would have expected!) I know they are interacting with the piece, but it feels like they are dis-honoring it. Touching "lovingly" is one thing, wearing it is another... It seems like it is being made fun of, not taken seriously, demeaned in some way.

So, touching is a "mixed bag". How something is touched becomes more the issue. I'd like to think viewers could relate more to a piece if they could touch it. Certainly, for a 3-dimensional, fibrous, textural, sculptural, multi-layered piece, touching it would make it more accessible, more understandable, more enjoyable. Let art be touched!

Comment (0)

I have fun with my titles. Each piece speaks to me as I'm working on it.  It evolves; it tells a story. I think about that concept as I am working. It helps me make some decisions, some of the many choices of form, color, details that come up.

Sometimes, I have a title before I even start. I have a feeling that I want to express. I "act it out" in the piece. I explore and expand it. It fulfills the thought, the idea, the concept. I most enjoy this!

Rarely, I make a piece and I do not have a title until it is finished. I have to back-track and think through what I had in mind, what I am trying to express in my visual language, what I want the viewer to get from the piece.

I do believe that titles help the viewer. A title gives an inside look into the artist's interpretation and intention. A title often adds a deeper meaning to the initial impression of the viewer. Sometimes, as is important in my work, a title gives the viewer some information about the materials used in the work. Sometimes, the title is personal to the artist, not necessarily understood by the viewer. But, to me, anything is better and more informative than "Untitled". Even "Piece # 10" gives me more of an understanding of what I am looking at. Taking the mystery out of a piece of art is helpful, in my opinion.

Titles can be informative, thought-provoking, emotional, interesting, light heavy, meaningful, catchy, funny, sad, ironic, and so much more. They do, in any case, connect the artist's concept to the viewer.

Comment (0)

I am a fiber artist, a sculptural basket maker. But really, I am a conceptual artist working with fiber, using basketry techniques.

My work is usually non-functional, not just decorative, containing a story or commentary or reaction. I start with inventing an idea. I expand on that idea with visual elements that suggest a mood or feeling. I like telling stories. I want to comment about that concept using a visual vocabulary. The piece I create speaks to viewers. It is a very special kind of communication.

Recently, I have incorporated text into some of my pieces. I am working on a piece called EXCUSES. I have embroidered with cable ties on suede as many excuse adverbs as I can think of in a colorful patchwork over an armature. It is coming together.

Even when there is no text, there is always an invitation in my work to see it from afar and approach it closer to see the detail, the reward, as a friend calls it, the conversation.  It is my way of talking and being heard.

Comment (0)

There is something to be said for going to a conference with other basket makers. Having just come back from a National Basketry Organization conference in Boston, I am coaxed to reflect on the benefits and pleasure of spending time with other high level, experienced basket artists. It was so wonderful to not have to "teach" my approach to my art. It felt good to not have to explain every step. And I could start from "square two" and get deeper, faster into a conversation about basketmaking and my work.

For five days, I walked across a college campus for meals, seminars, workshops, stayed in dorms, shared bathrooms, rode on busses to tour museums and galleries,  and got to know many fine people and their art. I value the bonds we created while conversing, sharing and working together.

Taking an intense three day workshop was a stimulating experience, to say the least. I think it was a reach for most of us, working perhaps out of our comfort zone, to "stretch" a bit. I re-friended a sewing machine. I learned to collage with fabric. I had pure fun doing it. I wonder if I will incorporate some of the skills and tools I re-learned into my future work. I wonder if somehow I am clearer about my own way of working and directions. I know I was stimulated and inspired by the connections and conversations with fellow artists and my workshop teacher. May the conversations continue.

Comment (0)

This is a phrase I often use when I am teaching kids or adults basketry. I want to make a point here. I want to encourage imperfection, individuality, purity, authenticity, experimentation, ease, freedom in creating. I do it in my own art. I see it in others' art.

We are not machines! Workmanship is only a human talent. Making "mistakes" is a human trait. Unique to us are our hand-made creations. Variations, blemishes, flaws become our personal expression. This is more than acceptable, it is desirable. Grace and artistry come out of our efforts, when we let go of trying to achieve perfection. This allows for an easier process and a more satisfying end result.
So, when looking at a piece of artwork, it is important to be able to see its original, exceptional uniqueness... the artist's hand.

Comment (0)

I have a certain style, a signature, a personal visual DNA. It is hard to explain. You have to see it! I have a way of looking at the world, an authentic voice, a way that I am "wired", a flavor of my work.

People recognize my work by now. I have "branded" myself. I fall into the "contemporary" art category. I use innovative approaches to an old art form... basketry. I incorporate mundane, everyday, ordinary materials and transform them with sublime , extensive, overdone excess. I often include salvaged materials, overlooked or discarded found elements. I engineer structures, assemblages, vessels, with color and texture. I am known for my use of cable ties. And, certainly, I create many pieces without any cable ties.

I seem to be unique. No one else is really doing what I do, choreographing materials as I do, using common, recognizable elements to create something whimsical or beautiful or edgy. I thrive on this personal style. I even have "UNIQUEM" on my car's license plate!

Comment (0)

I have a kind of self-created routine. It's true... I treat it seriously, like a job. I go to my studio, with latte and salad in hand, and spend a bulk of hours focusing intensely, working on my piece of art. I leave home chores and wife responsibilities and grandma thoughts behind. I work. I think and do art all day. To me it is delicious. It feeds me.

I am fortunate to have this luxury, of a studio outside of my house, that I dreamed of for so many years. Being now retired, it is a blessing to have the time to concentrate on my work as opposed to multi-tasking at work or home. For so many years I worked on my art "on the fly", in between regular life, on the side. Now, my regular life IS my art life.

I am satisfied and fulfilled and productive and even social with other artists everyday. I follow my own schedule. I make my own choices. I express myself. I have a freedom that comes with age and experience, to "act out" when, how and why I want. Lucky me!

Comment (0)

No matter how far away from the traditional form of basketry I get, no matter how non-traditional and wild I am in my work, no matter how much I use non-traditional materials, I am influenced by the art of basket making. My approach, my technical process, my ethic is that of a basket maker. I make vessels, containers, sculptures; all are baskets.

I have such respect for basketry. It is one of the oldest forms of art. It is cross-cultural. All cultures, for many eras, know and use basketry. It is cross-gendered. Males and females appreciate and learn to make basketry. It is cross-aged. Young and old are familiar with it.

Basketry is universal. I feel like I am connected to many "grandmothers" throughout history who have passed along the technical skills of basketry. I identify with them. I am committed to share in the continuity, the passing along of the love, the visual language and the art of basketry. It is rather special to me. I wonder if other basket makers feel this way.

Comment (0)

One of the most pleasurable parts of starting a new piece of work is gathering materials. I work with non-precious, ordinary, mundane ingredients. I'm a collector of "stuff", so I  have a lot to choose from. I'm a receiver of many "gifted" objects. People I know give me what they are about to throw away. When they ask me if I'd like their discards, I almost  always say yes. Even people I do not know see my work and send me or bring me donations. My challenge is to imagine how I can use them. It encourages my creativity.

My work is about repeated elements. So, I need to gather a quantity of something. Recently, I had an idea for a vessel to be made with keys. I had a bunch  myself, (you know, in the back of the kitchen drawer, having mostly forgotten what they belonged to). I asked friends and relatives for theirs and still didn't have enough. I decided to post a notice on  the bulletin board of the building where my studio is. Soon I got piles in every variety, more than I could fit into my piece. I'm still getting them. They are common objects in people's everyday lives. Everyone has some. No one has thrown them away.  I had such a sublime experience while working on this piece, reflecting on people's locked spaces, on the many kinds of keys that come and go in our lives, how long-lasting keys are and how necessary they seem to be as an entry to so many aspects of our lives.

And then, there was the time that I put out the "call" in my network for fortunes from everyone's different Chinese restaurants. Funny, we none of us throw them away. We all save  some. We all value them, but not too much. I got tons of contributions.

And, there was the occasion when I asked all my women friends and friends of friends for some shoulder pads. This is another item that I am surprised still exists in their closets. Almost every one told me the same story of hanging on to them, not wanting to throw them away, but hoping to "use" them somehow. I now have more shoulder pads than I could possibly use in a lifetime of work.

I value each and every person who has contributed to my work. Somehow, it makes my work more meaningful to include a small amount from a multitude of different lives. It takes a village...

Comment (0)