Here is an installation I’m working on around the themes of predator and prey. It’s in the school’s old library.

Thanks to Matt Tyson for the great photos!

I recently had photographs taken of my felt sculptures, which turned out great. Waiting Man is the most recent of the sculptures.

Two weekends ago we made the trip up to Rhinebeck, NY for the state Sheep and Wool Festival. We had a beautiful fall day with the leaves changing, crisp cold air, and blue skies. The festival was a fun an interesting experience; unfortunately severe overcrowding made it difficult to enjoy most of the vendors and demonstrations. If you could get to them, the vendors had a wide selection of raw wool, roving, and yarn for sale. I still have more wool to wash then I can handle, but it was pretty to see it all piled up.

After an frustrating attempt to see some vendors and buy a few spinning and carding tools, we gave up, grabbed a beer, and headed to the livestock barns. This was one of the best parts of the festival. I happen to love the smell of a barn, and we loved exploring all the varieties of sheep. We even watched a little of the sheep sheering; a process which I’ve been surprised to learn my city-dwelling friends expect to be painful for the sheep. In reality the sheep are carefully groomed (the contraption to hold them does seem a little uncomfortable, I admit) and end up free of several pounds of wool from their backs. Afterwards, they get a little custom fit jacket to keep them warm. After a hot summer it seems to me it must feel great.

The other activity that we loved was the sheep dog trials. I’ve seen this before in a small arena, but this competition took place in field the size of 2-3 football fields and had the dogs bringing the herd of sheep through obstacles from one end to the other. They were amazing to watch, and once again I feel fascinated as I watch nature and man work together so beautifully.

Over all we had a really great time. A lot of it was just the opportunity to get out of the city and experience some quiet for awhile. I think that part of my draw to sheep, felt, and all of the natural world is that I feel so completely isolated from the it here in New York City. While there are many wonderful things about living here, it also feels quite separate from reality. There are so many aspects of being a human that you simply cannot experience when you are surrounded by concrete, steel, and a population that walks through the streets only looking straight ahead.

Here are some updated images! I’m still working on some new dolls, and am planning to eventually have a small series of felt-doll sculptures. I also have several of these engravings of the fox, which I am hand painting now. It took some patience to learn, but I now love the hand engraving process almost as much as I love felt!

My birthday present from David was a trip to the New York State Sheep and Wool Festival,which takes place in Rhinebeck, NY next weekend. You can be sure I’ll post some pictures and share some of the fun stuff I see!

I’ve been making felt for well over a year now, and I still feel like I’m searching for just the right way to use it. After hours and months of work to create the fabric, it can be difficult to find the courage to cut it apart. I finally decided that I couldn’t put it off anymore, so a few months ago I started cutting into the fabric with only a rough idea in mind.

The dolls I’m making are small, and admittedly a little awkward feeling. I’ve cut them apart and reshaped them countless times, which has left them feeling quite patched and fragile. They are hollow on the inside, and have a nice textural quality when back lit. Pictured here is the most finished of the 2 dolls I have so far (it’s a deer, and not totally finished yet), and I imagine it as part of a larger scene when I’m finished.

The wool has been gathered, washed, and carded… now it’s time for the felting. This is a practice that goes back thousands of years, and is a beautifully simple process. There is a long tradition of felting in central Asia, and from what I can gather, my process is essentially the same. Basically, all that is needed is warm water, and agitation. Wool will actually felt itself even while still on the sheep’s back, given the chance.

First, I lay a reed mat (purchased in China Town for about $3) on the floor with a piece of plastic tarp underneath to protect the wood floors. The carded pieces of wool are spread thin, and laid out in a single layer across half the mat in a 24″ square. I drizzle a gentle liquid soap over the wool, then lay a second layer going the opposite direction. The soap is repeated after each layer, and all of the wool pieces overlap slightly so there are no holes.

The number of layers depends on the desired thickness; for a solid, sturdy fabric I used 5 layers of wool.

Next, I fold the mat in half over the wool, and roll up tightly. I secure the roll using rubber bands.

I fill the bathtub with about 4″ of hot water, and submerse the wool until it’s soaked through. I like to begin the agitation in the tub by rolling the mat back and forth; I think of it as imitating the wash cycle in a washing machine.

After about 10-15 minutes of agitation in the tub, I drain the excess water and roll it back and forth on the floor using firm pressure.

The total agitation process takes about 30-40 minutes. When finished I unroll the mat, turn the fabric, and repeat the process. This needs to be done at least 4-6 times to make a tight fabric.

Finally, the fabric is finished. I hang it to dry for about 24 hours, and then it’s ready to use. Felt is especially nice to work with because it can be cut, stitched, and molded without having to hem the edges.

And there it is: The mysteries of felt unfolded!

Despite the long and tedious nature of felt-making, I really do love it – its natural process, and its ancient history. To me it represents the simplicity of the things we really need, all of which already exists in nature.

Since I began using felt in my artwork, I’ve had a lot of questions about how I make it. I’ve been more than happy to indulge with every detail from raising the sheep to holding the sheet of felt in my hands. Granted, this is usually more information than people bargain for, but I’m pretty sure they won’t ever look at a piece of felt the same way again!

Speaking of felt that you’ve seen, it’s important to note that this is not the felt you used for your kindergarten craft project, or the kind they used to make hats. This is a heavy, sturdy fabric that is quite simply damp, tangled and matted fleece. It is probably the oldest wool fabric used by mankind, and the process of creating it has essentially not changed. There are methods of knitted and dry felting, but what I am working with is felt created using only water and vigorous agitation (in my case done in the bathtub!). This creates a surprisingly strong fabric that has been used to make everything from clothing to shelter (in the form of covering for tents and yurts).

First of all: the sheep. I already explained a little about the Navajo-Churro sheep that are the source of the wool I use, but I have to show a picture since they are simply fascinating to look at. The history of the breed, and where they come from, is an important part of this to me.

I receive the wool straight from the sheep’s back so the first step is to wash it; it is very oily and full of juniper berries, sticks, and the beautiful red New Mexico clay. I can’t agitate it too much or it will felt prematurely, so I soak it in soapy water then rinse and repeat several times. This is one of four natural colors I have. I believe it’s called chocolate brown.

The next step is the carding, which is basically brushing the wool so that all of the fibers lay in the same direction. It also does some additional cleaning, as a lot of dirt and sticks are still in the wool. I actually like to keep a good amount of matter in the wool though because I believe it serves as a point of reference when you look at the finished product. Carding is the most time consuming part of the process, and to get enough wool for a piece of felt I spend many hours carding. I learned how to do it on a website, The Joy of Handspinning, where they have thorough instructions and good videos. So rather than repeat what they have already well explained, I am just posting some pictures of my own process to give a general idea of what’s involved.

So, if you’re not thoroughly bored yet, stay posted for the second step, which is the actual felting process!

Not the kind with guns and macho men holding up their kill by the heels, but the kind where natural predators are hunting their natural prey in their natural habitat. The kind of thing we never see anymore (except on the completely wonderful BBC series Planet Earth).

This isn’t really a new thing for me, but only recently have I started admitting to myself how much I like them. I’m fascinated by this simultaneously brutal and beautiful act; one that essentially hasn’t changed (for animals) since the beginning. Below is a painting by George Catlin that I clearly remember studying as a kid. It was in a Time Life book with the PC title “The Indians”, which despite its somewhat dated content remains one of the most influential collections of images of my early artistic development. I recently found a copy at a used book drive, and have been revisiting all of the old inspiration.

Someone sent me this article from the New York Times recently about the possible end of protection for wolves in Yellowstone, and it had another amazing hunting image.

I don’t exactly know how to explain what it is that I like so much about these images, and about this subject. I know that lately when I think about writing an artist statement (something that describes why you’ve dedicated your whole existence to creating these specific images in less than 300 words- not a problem), my mind goes straight to these images. They sum it up in a way that I just don’t know how to put into words yet- at least not without sounding cheesy and probably a little pretentious. So, this is it: I like the hunt. I like the beauty and the power. I like the stillness that comes immediately before and immediately after death.

This is another page from the sketchbook I started a few months ago. It has become a visual record of the the places and experiences that I would like to memorialize, or freeze in time. I write in a journal somewhat sporadically, and like most people it becomes a record of all the worries and frustrations of my day. When I go back to read over the entries from months, or years ago, I feel both ridiculous and a little sad that this is what I have as a record of that time. For me the written journal is a place to work out thoughts and indulge ideas, but not a place to store memories that I’d like to go back and revisit.

I’m finding that this sketchbook is becoming a place where I put the things I don’t want to go away. So far there isn’t a bad moment or a complaint, just the thoughts and moments that I want to keep. I pick up a flower, leaf, or other small object, and encase it in plastic and put it in the journal. I don’t mean to insinuate that this is an original idea; as we know an artist’s journal is nothing new. I’ve just never been so good at keeping them. They always start feeling too emotional and contrived, so I abandon them. In that way I suppose they become like my written journal- a record of things worked through that I’d rather not revisit. This time I began the sketchbook more like a scientific journal. Anything I write is in a voice of record keeping rather than narration. The drawings and the objects are specimens collected and entered somewhat systematically. Still, I think it turns out that what should be detached observations, actually make the best story.

Just for fun, here is the baby quilt that I recently made for a friend! Tammy and Andrew Duncan are in a band called Frauke, which they started with David Obuchowski of Goes Cube as a side project to their other work. The t-shirts in the quilt are all from bands that Frauke has played with, or from the bands of friends.