Stitching Up The Noughties: A Blow-by-Blow

I arrived a bit early for my preview show at the ACME gallery on Friday night.
(Photo by Martha Adams)

The cocktail party was from 7 to 9pm and I wanted to take one last walk around the room before people started arriving.

On Wednesday, I hung the works and in the middle of the space installed a 19th century threadbare rug, a loom draped with a work in progress, a china teacup with the dregs of some Fortnum and Mason tea...

...a shambolic mess of tabloid magazines...

...a chair with a chain mail headrest (because I am an embroidery warrior) and black feather wings (because shouldn't they be required for every armchair traveller?)...

...and 125 cans of Diet Red Bull (no explanation necessary).

On the far wall was a floor-to-ceiling wallpaper I created from books in my personal library.

I wanted people to feel like they were entering an abstracted, exploded version of my brain, and that high literature + lowbrow tabloids + a lot of caffeine + tools of the trade = the recipe for my samplers.
(Wallpaper, detail)

Almost before I knew it, the gallery was packed with familiar faces and friendly strangers.

The signature drink was Pimm's Iced Tea.
(Photo by Martha Adams)

It was so gratifying to see people looking at my pieces and reading my work.

The gestation process for this show was long and at times, I had trouble seeing an end in sight. Now, here it was in front of me.
(Photos by Martha Adams)

I gussied up my loom by painting it black, studding it with brass nailheads and transforming it into a bespoke piece of equipment.
(Photo by Martha Adams)

According to my calculations, over 15,000 feet of cotton embroidery floss went into the creation of my samplers.
(Photo by Martha Adams)

Scary figures, scary headlines.
(Photo by Martha Adams)

I plan on returning to the gallery again and again over the next month to continue adding words to this piece in progress.
(Photo by Martha Adams)

Royal Apothic founder/blogger Sean O'Mara (on right) came and it was such a treat to see him...
(Photo by Martha Adams)

...as it was C&C California founder Claire Stansfield (on left) and fellow blogger Julie Anne Rhodes.
(Photo by Martha Adams)

Good friends, good neighbors...

...and very good eight-year-olds completed the mix of invited guests.

As for family, I was well-represented by my two men...
(Photo by Martha Adams)

...and my mother, sister and two nieces who had flown out from Michigan for the show.
(Photo by Martha Adams)

And now, the samplers...

There are ten pieces in the show, all at least three feet by four feet, with some even larger. (Check back for exact measurements.)

"On Tucking Your Daughter Into Bed"



"On Priorities"



"On the Price of Beauty"



"On the New Economy"



"On Aging"



"On Being Realistic"


"On Truth in Art, Part One"



"On Role Models"




"On Dark and Stormy Nights"




"On East vs. West"

Sorry, I can't figure out how to make the photo bigger by clicking on it. The text reads:

Soy chai latte, downward dog,
Hike up Runyon, kiss the smog.
Palm trees, glamour, sushi roll,
LA's tattooed on my soul.

But NYC is in my skin,
The noise, the crowds, the grit, the sin.
Subways, cynics, coffee black,
Will always keep me coming back.

.................

For those of you in Los Angeles, the show runs through May 29th. Gallery hours are Tuesday-Saturday, 11am-6pm. All price inquiries for the pieces should be directed to the ACME Gallery (323-857-5942).


I would like to give a massive thank you to o ACME owners Bob Gunderman, Randy Sommer and director Molly Concannon for their unwavering enthusiasm, support and killer cappucinos, to Sarah Walker for setting the proverbial ball in motion, and to all my friends and neighbors who have so generously helped me out with carpools and playdates these last six months (you know who you are).

Also, thank you to my dear friend Martha Adams, who so beautifully documented the evening.

Lastly, to my very own Piero and Luca, thank you for being ever-understanding, ever-encouraging and never once begrudging the months and months I spent bent over the loom or crouched on my hands and knees on the floor, head down, needle and thread in hand, silently counting counting counting.