one slow stitch at a time...

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untitled (i want to hold your face in my hands)
filet crochet curtain
angela simione, 2014




i need a much taller window.  :)

the full text reads: i want to hold your face in my hands but you go on backing away away away.  the text is from a poem i wrote over a year ago that will probably never see the light of day, save for this excerpt.  and i like that...  the secrecy of it...  which is very much what this work is about. i like the idea of hanging my secrets in the window, allowing the light of day to use the twists and turns of my private thoughts (and the hook that has given them shape) to make shadows sigh and heave on the adjacent wall.  i like the tease of it.

this piece taught me a lot.  it's still teaching me.  not merely about the method of production and where i failed and where i succeeded in using it, but also how i want to use light and shadow as materials themselves...  transparency...  absence and presence.  in this regard, this method is very much like drawing.  the emptiness of the page is just as important as the mark.  it's poetry.  the things that aren't said add weight to what is.

it's hung up in the window of my bed and i stare at it for a little while every day.  i finished it over a week ago and i'm still so bowled over by it.  it's a new "first step".


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persistence

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they keep taking it down and i keep putting it back up.

this is the third banner i've installed at this particular location.  if there needs to be a fourth, so be it.  when i was getting ready to stitch this piece in to place today, a woman walked by and thanked me for reinstalling it.  it made me feel good that the community here has noticed the work and saw it as a welcome addition to the neighborhood and was sad to see it go.  it made me even happier to be thanked for putting a new piece up.  pep in my step. :)

THE WAY YOU NEED TO BE LOVED

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ode to eva hesse

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IT IS SOMETHING. IT IS NOTHING. Ode to Eva Hesse.

crocheted sweater

angela simione, 2014

i keep forgetting to post this!  the first sweater of 2014!  it felt so good to make.  it feels like it's been forever since i made a sweater.  the process is just long enough to feel substantial, and quick enough to supply me with my fix of instant gratification.  :)

the text is taken from Eva Hesse's artist statement for her 1968 exhibition "Chain" which is taped to the inside of the front cover of my "sketch" book.  i took her last two sentences.  

"I would like my work to be non-work.  This means that it would find its way beyond my preconceptions.

What i want of my art I can eventually find.  The work must go beyond this.

It is my main concern to go beyond what I know and what I can know.  The formal principles are understandable and understood.

It is the unknown quality from which and where I want to go.

As a thing, an object, it accedes to its non-logical self.

It is something.  It is nothing."

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THIS UNSHAKABLE LONELINESS

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under the overpass where so many people are sleeping in cars these days.


this unshakable loneliness
yarnbomb
angela simione, 2014

she's a mess

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a major round of Sciatica brought me to the ER on monday.  i spent two days laying in bed before making the call to go to the hospital and i've been laying in bed ever since.  luckily, it's not as bad this time around.  i am able to walk, albeit slowly.  i am able to sleep, albeit with the aid of Vicodin and muscle relaxers.  i am able to work on projects from my bed, though i wish i was out in the world, making money and friends, and taking pictures.  it's hard for me to lay around like this.  it truly is.

the first time i dealt with back problems was during my last year in art school.  crocheting was the only art-making method i could utilize while laying flat on my back and not moving for hours upon hours at a time.  i suppose it's no wonder that i view the skill as one of mending, of catharsis, of process, of healing.

yesterday, in my warm opiate surrender, i started making a new text piece that i'm not sure will be a yarnbomb or a scarf.  perhaps it will be both.  perhaps i'll wear it for as long as the cold weather calls for it and then transform it by stitching it to a pole somewhere.

i like that idea.

i like this notion of giving away my history.  or better said: gifting away my history.

this work has so much to do with the conflation of the public and private self.  i take texts from my diary or lyrics from songs i like (in this case, the lyric comes from the Lady Gaga song 'Dance in the Dark') or bits of my personal autobiography and stitch them in to sweaters, scarves, and blankets.  i take the text of my fear and desire and twist them in to some sort of signage... my story being told one yarnbomb at a time on city streets.

it's a game of exposure, of exploration, where the photographic image also plays a very heavy part.  which image of me is real?  which image is the most honest?  the image you've met in person?  or the image i make in my diary?  what does it mean to sit naked in front of a mirror, taking pictures of one's own reflection wrapped in the lyrics of a favorite song?  especially when the chosen text is "she's a mess. she's a mess. she's a mess".  especially when the naked body in the mirror's reflection is a body in pain.

maybe i was a mess this month in more ways than one.  currently, i am a physical mess but there was also the fact of my mother's birthday and death anniversary to contend with.  those events are exactly a week apart: january 12th and 19th.   and amid all this, i'm trying to learn my own curves of conscience, the twists within my personality and sensibility.  i'm learning about myself through these moments of exposure. i'm learning what i'm capable of and who i want to be.

i felt lonely today being cooped up like this.  i made a choice just to bare it.  i reached for my crochet hook and let the soothing tingle of medications wash over me.

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downtown

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THE WAY YOU NEED TO BE LOVED
19th and Broadway, Oakland CA
angela simione, 2014

this kind of work is so much fun to do.  :)

day one

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i celebrated the first day of 2014 by getting another yarnbomb out in the world. happy new year, everybody.  :)  what way do you need to be loved?


18th street between mission and valencia in san francisco.

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in the wee hours of christmas eve...

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one slow stitch at a time.


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stitch by stich

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a beautiful sunday evening at home.

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work and repose

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nothing like a little semi-nude photography to get the evening started with a bang.  :)  

i had the day off and i spent it almost entirely in bed crocheting.  it's been wonderful.  no make-up, no schedule, no other agenda other than art-making.  days like this remind me of the goodness of my life and to be thankful for the wide-open freedom it contains.  this type of devotion - the slow progress of hand-made textiles - is a luxury.  it requires an expanse of time most people seem not to have or to not allow themselves even if they do.  there are lawns to be mowed and cars to be washed and another trip to the grocery store.  there is always something that must be tended to.  weekends lose their glamour easily.  and then there's that awful fatigue that finds us all from time to time...  that feeling that the effort simply isn't worth it, that what we have to say is stupid and that our loves (and lives) are somehow Lesser Than.  but not today.  today i was able to relish this moment of calm methodology.  i twisted the yarn around the hook and lost myself in the rhythm of the pattern.  i let my mind wander.  i let myself dream.  i let myself enjoy this quietude.  i've needed it.  there's so much to process.  especially since the trip.  

in less than 2 weeks i'll be 33.  my jesus birthday is here.  it's so strange to think of my age.  i feel like no age really fits.  what does it mean to feel a certain age?  no number seems to hold some sort of unnameable secret, nor does it belie any type of truth about an individual.  still, it does seem to ring true that the 30s are an era in which an individual truly does come in to their own.  at least it has been for me thus far.  the loop of time gets me thinking about my life and where i want to take this next year of my existence.  it's the ritual of growth, i suppose: another season opens, another season closes.  i re-read certain entries in the diary.  i leaf through the record of this wild, unimaginably good year and marvel at how different my life is; there is hardly any resemblance between my life now and what it was 2 years ago. for my birthday last year, i took myself to new york for the very first time.  that trip set in motion an entire wealth of changes, an entirely new outlook on life and a desire to live it as fully as possible, as true to myself as possible.  in the year that has elapsed since, i've been to new york four times and managed to take myself to europe.  it doesn't seem possible!  it seems like someone else's life i'm talking about here!  it amazes me that I got to do these things and pursue this path!  i'm still processing the effects and meaning of Travel.  i'm not even sure how to write about it yet...  it instantly changes a person.  i'm trying to settle back in to my life here in california but i don't want to somehow obscure the changes that have taken place within me.  rather, i'm trying to find a site of stillness, some sort of silence that will allow these changes to rise to the surface of my being and blossom. 

while i was gone, i thought of the next blanket i would make.  i'm glad to be working on it now.  

THE WAY YOU NEED TO BE LOVED

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Telegraph Ave @ 49th
Oakland, CA



sometimes a poem only needs one line.

just the beginning

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over a year in production, The Blanket of DOOM is finally finished.   mostly.  a few small tweaks here and there, a few loose yarn ends to be woven in to the grain of stitches, and a ton of photographs to take before i can legitimately refer to this project as Done.  in fact, it could be quite some time before i see the end of this particular piece.  the photo up top signals what i envision for The Blanket: a life prior to finding itself on display in a gallery.  we'll see where we end up together.  :)

but it is a happy moment to see her in all her good glory.  so many long hours and evening spent hooking away at this piece.  it is an expression of dedication and faith that, even if imperfect, the idea was a good one and to chase it to the end.  there were plenty of times at the very beginning of this massive undertaking that i wanted to give up, unravel the entire thing, and focus on smaller projects.  there were plenty of weeks when i didn't touch her at all.  couldn't.  even hated the idea of working on her.  there were plenty of times when i dreaded the work that needed to be done.  it seemed so endless.  impossible. 

when i finally reached the half-way mark, my hope and strength returned and i felt committed to seeing the project through to the end regardless of how it turned out.  i no longer needed it to be any good and i just wanted to make the blanket for me.  i began to see it as a landscape...  a road...  a way to learn something deeper about who i am and the type of artist and human i want to be.  a poem to wrap myself in.

Lea had said to me once, "your work is so devotional."  her voice came back to me so many times while i worked on The Blanket.  what is Devotion?  what is it to devote oneself to something?  what does it require?  it comes down to an unspeakable trust.  i trust my work with all that i am and all that i've got.  i entrusted my entire life and self to it a long time ago and haven't questioned it since.  my road through this world might very well be different from others but it is a good one and my work has proven itself to be the very best map and guide.

the picture of me laying on top of the Blanket of DOOM was taken this morning in my kitchen.  she takes up the entire floor.   i'm 5'6".  each letter in DIE is taller than i am.   but the work has always been, and always will be, bigger than me and that has nothing to do with physical scale.  :)

 

so happy i could DIE

crochet

kingsize blanket

angela simione, 2013

FML?

sometimes life decides for you that you need to slow down, stay in bed, and make some art.  under other circumstances, i'd be completely content to do just that but geez... now just isn't the right time.  a man lifted me up the other day and, as chance would have it, he happened to grab me right at the sight of an old injury: my iffy disk.  i've been locked in bed for the last 3 days.  i haven't been able to really walk let alone go to class or work.  and worst of all, i may have to cancel my trip to NY.  i'm trying not to get depressed about it.  getting depressed will only draw this whole thing out.  besides, i'm in enough pain as it is.  bulging disks are absolute agony.  thankfully, i'm in much better shape this time around than i was the first time this happened 6 years ago.  in fact, this injury is what turned me toward crochet as a way to make art.  i couldn't sit or stand.  all i could do was lie flat on my back.  that's not exactly a position from which one might draw or paint and, there i was, heading in to my last year of art school.  so much was on the line.  i had to find a way to keep making art.  crochet, it was!  it saved my degree and my practice.  it saved my spirit.  

and it'll save my spirit this time too.  i'm looking on the bright side and just trying to feel thankful for having the unplanned luxury of staying in bed all week and making art.  The Blanket of DOOM sure has benefited.  Almost done!!!!  a year in the making.  this project is an ERA unto itself!  :D

king size!!!!  and all rendered patiently in single stitch crochet.  good lord.

keeping me nice and warm as i convalesce. :)  can't wait to see and photograph the finished piece.

work work work

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in bed with my hook and mirror.  The Blanket of DOOM.  coming soon...

prudence

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mmmmmm...

i really do love Fall. the need to bundle up gets me thinking of deep, warm quilts and sweaters and scarves- all sorts of reasons for me to spend more and more time with my trusty crochet hook. and that's exactly what i've been doing all day today. my right hand is pretty well cramped and tired at this point but it's alright. i know how to smile through the creative pains. :) for sure.

it's our turn to make dinner for the neighbors this evening. it has become our sunday tradition. it's pretty cool seeing as how neither i nor my sweetheart have any family in the area other than each other. so we're making family traditions with our friends instead. it's a good thing. especially since the holidays are basically here. Halloween kick starts it all- the mad holiday rush, rush, rush.

yeah, i'm already thinking about thanksgiving and Christmas... things to make. i think i'd like to put the whole handmade movement to work for me this year. especially since everyone is having some NOT FUN economic woes, why not return to what the holidays are really supposed to be about? why not operate with faith from the notion that it really is the thought that counts? besides, i've got skillz. and i'm sure i can find a way to harness them for a sweet and warm holiday season this year. some of the best Christmases we ever had growing up were the ones when we hardly had anything; when money was super tight and we all had to get creative. those were the times when we really came together as a family. when we were warm and gentle with one another. when we felt thankful and safe and loved.

the banner project moves forward...

detail

i started this project during my senior year in college when i slipped one of the disks in my back (twice) and was laid up, flat on my back, for a solid month: no walking, no painting, nothing. but, in my prescribed vicodan stupor, i was more than able to lay back on the couch and twist yarn.

everybody at school loved these and, though i think of them as banners to be hung on the wall (big ol' L.E.D. signs), a great many people ohhed and ahhed at the prospect of wearing them. i'm still not sure how i feel about that... i mean, these guys take an awfully long time to make.

anyway, a few weeks back when i was getting completely depressed by the onslaught of dreary, grey, rainy, winter days, i picked the project back up. i had been reading sylvia plath's Ariel, again (HA!), and was totally taken in by the last line of her poem Sheep in Fog:

"Starless and fatherless, a dark water."

yes, yes, yes... that's me too.

i had originally planned to embroider the entire sentence on the banner but i got stuck on that word 'fatherless'. such an odd word, rarely heard, and entirely, intensely sad. autobiographical in more ways than one...



fatherless
6" x 74"
crochet
angela simione, 2009


it's realized in the bastard stitch, my favorite stitch, also known as the afghan stitch- a cross between crocheting and knitting- and another fine level of conceptualism. :) the reverse is completely backed so that the beauty of the stitch itself can be fully appreciated and adored. my sweetie thinks i should sell these but i honestly have no clue what i'd even charge for something like this. it takes a super diligent week and a half to make just one.

p.s. that's my big, green backyard. :)

getting crafty and going to LA

well... so much for not dripping any ink on my nice white quilt! arg! bound to happen, i guess, and that's what patches are for, i suppose. besides, sleeping amongst ink stains makes me sound totally hardcore as an artist. ha!

i'll be leaving tomorrow, yet again, for Southern California. this time, no business to attend to other than just hanging out with family and old friends. i'm really looking forward to it. ever since i moved to the Bay Area three years ago, going home has been hard. lots of ghosts. but my crazy back and forth this summer has lessened my fears about being there and, now, my visits are joyful and warm. so while i'm gone, i might not be able to get any blogging done. i'm going to try to leave the art-stuff in my studio for a few days and just enjoy the people i'm surrounded by. this will be my last trip down there for awhile.

but until then, i'll be catering to the drawing rampage! there's just something about black ink on nice white paper. it's sexy. when i return, it's time for me to dive back in to oil painting though. i'm currently working on a new body of paintings and, although the drawing rampage has been wonderful and lots of fun, i haven't worked on the paintings since it started and i miss them. they are the first thing i think about when i wake up.

one thing is for sure, friends and family can expect some art for christmas this year. i've got too many drawings at this point and no where to really store them for very long. i've never given artwork as christmas presents before, it might be a nice change of pace. lucky for me, everyone in my family actually likes my work. my brother doesn't quite get down with the more conceptual stuff but he's usually on board with everything else and, truth be told, i could give him the most minimal, conceptual, hard to understand piece of artwork in the world and he'd love it... he's actually even started to see the relevance and beauty of abstraction: a major step in a person's art appreciation! AND a very proud moment for me, i must say.

i'm also entirely infatuated with my little etsy shop at this point. 3 days old and already the love of my life! :) i'm busy brainstorming what other crafty things i can make and even just thinking about all the little goodies i can twist up with my trusty crochet hook makes me happy. this is, at least, one avenue i can take to kind of bridge the gap between art and craft. it's always bothered me how disrespected craft is. it's beautiful and important work. everyone needs a blanket during long, cold nights.

Mrs. X

i'm still working with ideas of anonymity and social expectations. i've been thinking about the little we know about the lives of women historically. when reading history, i'm always struck by the fact that the lives of women are spoken about with sweeping generalities, as if each woman lived the same life (with differences depending on class).

we can assume that Mrs. X cleaned the house, cooked the food, raised the children, made clothing, knitted blankets, and decorated the home.... but what else? unless i get my hands on a sordid tell-all memoir, i'll never know what life was like for women in passed eras.

i only recently found out that my grandmother sold pies to help supplement the family income. as legend has it, people came from miles around to get one of her delicious apple pies. when my mother told me this story, i was so proud. In addition to maintaining the home and raising 5 children, she did what she could to help financially.

My own mother worked two jobs for the majority of my sister and i's upbringing and still found time to cook dinner and do the laundry.... and stayed up all night sewing our Halloween costumes or making us dresses.

i started thinking about crafting as being very much like the landscape... they both hide their history. just as it is impossible to know what atrocities had happened on a battlefield simply by looking at it, it is equally as impossible to look at a sweater or table-runner your mother made and know what stress or hardship was sitting in her hands while she stitched those beautiful objects together.

anyone who knows how to crochet (or knit, sew, cross stitch, etc), knows what a time-consuming process it is. it isn't mere hours that are spent; it is days or weeks until a project reaches completion. while working on this project, i wondered what worries were going through the minds of our mothers and grandmothers while they stayed awake at night making clothes for their children? what if those worries were apparent in the items they crafted? it would be a sweater few would wear.

so, the woman in this portrait is as anonymous as the crocheted boarder that frames her. their histories are hidden, they are made beautiful for display, perfectly put together.

thankfully, this is not the case anymore. the history of women is now being recorded... if not for the struggles of the passed generations of women. this piece is not based in nostalgia. i used an oval canvas, sepia tones and gold paint, and an ornate, black frame (rendered in crochet) to reference a bygone era. i painted it with respect, and in sadness, for all the women i'll never read about, with gratitude for those Halloween costumes my mom made for me, and for the identity-struggle that is still going on today. even now, many women find it hard to talk about certain things, or in a certain way, in the company of men for fear of being labeled a nag or bitch, or worse... a feminist. we continue to over-edit our speech and discredit our emotions in front of the opposite sex. in short, we hide our identities. we are very much like that landscape... by just looking, no one sees the battle.