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 Firestorm
by Karla Kellenberger
When I began to design this piece in 1997, it was intended as a
companion piece to the first hardanger spiral I had designed and
stitched earlier in 1997. That first piece, Vortex, had been suggestive
of water, so I decided that I would continue with the general theme of
the four basic elements by making the second piece representative of
fire, I wanted the second piece to ‘move’ and appear to rotate as
had Vortex, but I also wanted to move entirely in a different direction
with color, shape, and the intended reaction of the viewer.
Color
Red-orange was a fairly obvious choice for a design that was inspired
by fire, and my very first drafts of the design were monochromatic
red-orange on black. However, there was not enough contrast between the
stitched parts of the piece when only red-orange was used, and it made
the entire piece look flat and two-dimensional despite the black
background. Initially, I tried both a lighter value of red-orange and
orange for the needlewoven parts of the piece, but I still was not
satisfied with their effect. Yellow, while providing much more contrast,
still was not satisfactory. There was still too much similarity in
texture between the areas, and the overall effect was still too flat and
lifeless. Overdyed threads produced interesting color effects, but the
random variations in color detracted from the effect of the
needleweaving. Then I hit upon the idea of using a gold metallic.
The main problem with using the gold metallic for all of the
needlewoven areas was the same as before: not enough contrast within
large areas of the piece, which would result in visual "dead zones."
Also, I was concerned about the ability of the very fine metallic thread
to cover the black threads of the ground fabric in needleweaving, as it
was a much finer thread than either the finer pearl cotton or the
individual threads of the linen fabric itself. I did not want the black
ground threads to show through the gold needleweaving and dilute the
sparkle and bold color of the metallic. Also, the bright, shiny gold
could very easily take over the piece, were it not carefully limited in
its areas of use.
I therefore decided to use the fine metallic gold for four openwork
woven areas (one in each arm of the spiral), and for the spirograph1
stitches around the perimeter of the piece. By doing this, I avoided the
potential problems of needleweaving with the metallic over the black
ground threads, and also created areas of visual interest and contrast
without the gold becoming too dominant.
I wanted to use metallic gold for the eyelets as well, and I solved
the problem of coverage where the eyelets were concerned by using a
different, heavier metallic thread (DMC 6-ply gold metallic). It was
also a slightly different shade of gold than the finer, thinner
metallic, which I thought gave the piece some depth without being too
obvious. I used the heavier gold for the diamond-shaped spirograph
stitching in the center of the piece as well. (I could not have used the
heavier metallic for the needlewoven areas; the DMC metallic wears and
frays easily, and it would never have survived all the weaving and
bending of needleweaving.)
The center of the piece needed a strong focal point, both to give the
piece unity, and to provide an axis around which it could visually
rotate. I wanted to stay with the gold/red-orange colors and threads
already in use, but to do something slightly different to draw the
viewer’s eye and to give a subtle emphasis to the center of the piece.
I chose to use very fine metallic thread in a complex needlewoven figure
that was different from other needlewoven areas of the piece, and to
surround this complex area with smooth satin stitches done in a heavier
thread than the pearl cotton used elsewhere, but in the same red-orange.
Over the satin stitching, I used the heavier metallic gold to do a
spirograph overlay. The central focal point therefore brought together
and repeated both the colors and the threads used elsewhere in the
piece, which gave the piece an overall sense of unity and balance color
– and texture-wise.
Evolution of the Design
At this point, it was 2001, and I had been putting the piece down and
picking it back up again over a period of almost four years. As I
worked, it evolved technically, but also philosophically. Stitching, for
me, is a time to let my mind wander and to reflect. As I worked on the
piece, I thought a lot about the ambiguity that humans feel about fire.
Fire is a source of warmth and comfort, and can be life-sustaining, but
it also can be destructive, frightening, and the cause of loss and
devastation. Also around this time, I saw a documentary on the
firebombing of Dresden in 1945, which discussed not only the terrible
loss of life, but also the loss of architecture and art that took place.
Then, in September 2001, came the terrorist attacks on New York and
Washington, D.C.
I was down to the final work on the piece, the needlewoven area
around the central motif, and I had originally planned to weave it in
red-orange in a very plain woven-bar style, since the woven areas
further out on the arms of the spiral had been woven with picots.
Instead, I found myself weaving the area with very simple bars – in
black. It turned out to be an inspired choice. From a designing point of
view, it provided contrast, visual interest, strengthening of the
central axis/focal point, and differing texture; from a philosophical
point of view, it expressed the ambiguity inherent in fire. The plain,
black, woven squares were evocative of the aftermath of fire, and of the
burned framework left after the fire has passed. The piece had taken a
somber turn. Its meaning for me, had moved well beyond simply an
expression of the physical characteristics of fire.
Vortex had been a monochromatic study in blues, with rounded edges.
It had been intended to invoke a sense of tranquility in the observer.
When I began to work on Firestorm, I decided right away that the colors
used would be bold ones: hot reads and oranges on a black background.
The general shape of the design was a spiral, but I wanted to move away
from the gentle, wavelike curves of Vortex. I chose to keep the edges of
the design sharp and pointed by omitting the use of outlining blanket
stitches, instead using contrasting gold ‘spirograph’ stitches to
draw the eye to the outer edges and to help with the illusion that the
spiral was moving. I used gold beads to add motion in a contrasting
direction to the main body of the piece, hoping to imitate the
flickering and twisting motion of flames instead of just one-directional
rotation. Both the gold beads and the gold spirograph stitches also
helped to give the impression of embers and sparks flying away from the
center of the piece, which added to the impression of heat and energy.
Philosophical Stuff
I tend to design abstracted pieces when working with needlework,
especially those types of needlework that involve counting, like
hardanger and canvas. Personally, I do not find counted needlework to be
the best medium for expressing realistic designs, because the grid of
the fabric forces the finished result into a sort of pixilation that I
find clumsy-looking. I am always looking for ways to escape that grid,
or at least to use it where it is an advantage and not a liability to
the design.
I also want the viewer to have to think about what he or she actually
sees when looking at my work. With representational pieces, it is too
easy for the viewer to react only to the subject matter, and not to the
stitches, colors, and design of the piece itself. I prefer to try to set
my pieces apart as discrete objects by using abstraction; it forces the
viewer to (hopefully) look at the piece and think about what it might
mean as an individual expression of an idea, instead of ‘a picture of
(whatever)’. (n.b.: I do not mean to imply that representational works
lack meaning or purpose; I only mean to say that their subjects can be a
sort of mental shorthand because they are familiar to so many, and that
individual expression can easily be obscured by a familiar archetype.)
Finally, I think that abstract works have the ability to change for
each individual viewer, and that they are capable of accommodating the
diverse emotions and perceptions of many different people. To a certain
extent, an abstracted work is only truly completed in the heart and mind
of each person who views it. I like to work with abstracted designs
because I like the idea that each individual ‘finishes’ the piece
for themselves, in their own unique way.
Notes
- I do not know if these stitches have a formal name, but I have
always mentally called them spirograph stitches, after the toy which
allowed the user to create curved shapes from an arrangement of
straight lines. A neat trick, and one which allows the stitcher to
break away from the clumsy, blocky curves that occur when stitching
on a grid of tiny, four-sided holes.
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