Interested in participating in a future stash. project?
Email: stash.project.exhibition@gmail.com
Future project ETA: Fall, 2021
I don’t know about you, but I am a big collector of materials. It is a large part of my artistic practice. I enjoy stockpiling numerous supplies thinking the dangerous (for me at least) idea that I will use these things sometime, for something. Do a lot of other artists do this? I have a sneaking suspicion that we do.
During stay-at-home orders I thought, “Yes!! Now is the time to use this stuff! Let’s go!” . . . Quickly I became overwhelmed by too many ideas and the pressure to use this time wisely. After a couple of weeks I relaxed some and gave myself a break. Why was I pressuring myself so much? Were other artists feeling this same pressure?
While thinking over these questions, this project began to take shape.
I shared some of my collection of materials in an art supply kit to other artists to use within their own work. These supplies were shared through the USPS to artists that responded to an artist call through social media. The rule was that each artist must use all of the materials received within a singular work of their own. Any other medium within that artists own personal supply stash may be used in combination with those received. The project was limited to the first 25 artists that requested to participate.
After a month from receiving their materials, each artist photographed their work and returned the digital image(s) to me through email with a description of their own personal experience with the materials they have potentially collected, hoarded, coveted, or not. Has this sharing of outside materials sparked ideas or was it frustrating to have the constraint of having to include all of the materials?
Also, I requested that they share their own experience with art making while staying at home. Have they had an explosion of creative energy? What has been difficult? What has been fantastic?
Enjoy the exhibition! Big, big thanks to each of the participating artists — this has been an amazing project and I am so floored by the works created and stories shared!
Materials:
Provided by STASH, Fabric (knitted with pencils), Film (decoupaged onto the tablet box), Corks (carved into mushrooms), Envelope (decoupaged onto the tablet box), Artbook pages (woven together in strips, then digitally manipulated and decoupaged onto the tablet box)
From my own STASH, Tablet box (base for decoupage), Foraged Mushrooms (spray painted as flowers and “corona”), Deer Skull, Warped, repainted canvas with leftover slices of images from a project I did with Justin Border (and other artists), Spray Paint, Invasive Autumn Clematis (from my own backyard)
Jen Appell, Kansas City, MO - Still.Life.
A blessing and a curse. We have hunkered down, sheltered in place, and waited for months on end for some semblance of normalcy to return.
This is Still Life. Is it still life?
At 4:33 a.m. on April 1st, as the world was grinding to a pandemic halt, I got a phone call. The nurse in the emergency room was asking about my mother’s advance directive. She was asking despite the fact that the document should have been on file at the hospital and also delivered with Mom when she was transported from the long-term care facility. This question jarred me from sleep. I asked if Mom was conscious. “Yes,” the nurse replied. I knew what the advanced directive said, but could not bring myself to utter the words. So I asked the nurse to ask Mom… it’s her life, it’s her choice. Mom agreed to the procedure.
Even though COVID rules were already in effect, the hospital graciously let me into the Emergency Room. They were preparing me for goodbye. Intubated, medically unconscious and waiting for Mom’s COVID test to come back, it was 24 hours until we heard from the cardiologist. My brother and I toiled. Mom indicated in her advanced directive that she wanted no heroic measures. And so with a heavy heart, I made the call to take her off of life support. Again, the hospital graciously allowed me to be with her in the ICU, so I could be with my mom when she took her last breath.
But she didn’t. She just got stronger and better. More coherent with each passing day. The hospital allowed me to continue to be with her. Until it was clear that she was really on the upswing. Without a doubt, my mom’s wholly unexpected recovery is due in part to the hospital letting me be there. Reminding her that there was still something to live for.
Within 10 days, Mom was released back to her long-term care facility where instead of the hospice care we expected, she was now receiving therapy. A miracle in slow motion.
The first few weeks of the lockdown passed like a dream. Worrying about my mom, acclimating my teenage twin daughters to our “new normal”, finally attacking the mountains of laundry generated by fashion-savvy teens.
Late in April, I scheduled a socially distant birthday hike with my friend Carmen at one of the Blue River Parkway Trails. The moment we stepped onto the trail under the canopy of trees and I heard the sounds of the Blue River rushing, the calls of birds, the hum of the insects… inhaled the fresh scent of the fecund earth, I knew I was home. I forgot the joy I feel in the forest. I forgot the deep connection I have with nature.
That day we found a solitary morel mushroom. The tiny bounty didn’t matter... I was hooked. I experienced deep, resonating harmony examining fallen trees for mushrooms and fungus. As if Nature herself was whispering, “new life found a way to grow from death, and isn’t it beautiful?” This was my balm for the sea of uncertainty that the pandemic churned.
I started hiking nearly every day (sometimes going out to multiple spots in one day). I was grateful for whatever gifts the forest would give me: mushrooms, herbs, bones, fallen bird’s nests, feathers, and flowers. When all of the elements came together, I would make a still life out of my findings. Still. Life.
I dug into my library and unearthed dusty books on herbalism, bought several books on foraging and a field microscope, made spore prints and learned how to identify mushrooms, and dove headfirst into the interconnectivity of mycology and humanity.
I made infusions and tinctures with the medicinal herbs and mushrooms that I found. Crafted “bone chimes” out of the bones I discovered. Started growing oyster mushrooms in old tree stumps and bales of hay on my property.
In the wake of this unhinging of existence as we knew it, I found peace in the stillness. It’s still life. It’s just different. It’s transitory. The death of one experience fertilizes the growth of another. And wild, wonderful things do grow.
Materials:
Stash given materials, small manila envelope, small plastic sandwich bag, swatch of striped fabric, swatch of floral fabric, three wine corks, six small strips of black and white film, three small pages of a book with various images
Additional materials, two pieces of plain white paper, glue, baling wire, floral tape, miscellaneous beads, straight pins, porcupine quills, acrylic paint, upholstery nails, small styrofoam balls
Beth Barden, Kansas City, MO
I have never been an artist in the traditional sense. My entire life I have always enjoyed making things and looking at materials in an unconventional way. Cooking has been the way I have chosen to express myself as I have reveled in taking bits of ingredients and turning them into something both nourishing and beautiful.
I have always appreciated art and have privately made work for most of my life. When this project was announced I felt compelled to reach out in a way I normally wouldn’t. I think the solitude and stress brought on by COVID compelled me to try to connect in an unusual way.
Deciding what to do with the materials sent allowed me to activate a part of my mind otherwise neglected. The limitations were appealing and the timeline was generous. My first thought went to flowers or greenery. I then drifted to the idea of a traditional fruit bowl. From there I considered a plate of food, either breakfast or ramen. As my mind calmed I returned to the idea of a floral arrangement.
Flowers are always welcome. Flowers are sent for both celebration and soothing of grief. Each of these reasons seemed to fit my life as I have struggled with the unraveling of my career as a chef owner of a restaurant. My love language has historically been food. With neither customers nor family I have found myself without a place to “speak”.
I had intended to start much earlier in the month. A few weeks ago I made a grave error in my kitchen and unwittingly looped the edge of a potholder on the grate of my stove. As a result, I splashed boiling water over the entirety of my dominant hand and wrist. This made working on a project nearly impossible and forced me to wait until it had healed.
I finally sat down to begin on the 17th, the day before my month deadline was reached. I quickly got into a groove and was feeling good about the way the piece was progressing. About an hour into the process my phone dinged and the news of RBG’s death was reported. Unwittingly, this bouquet became more important and the idea proved prescient. Living alone I have had to manage a tremendous amount of loss in the absence of both comfort and conversation. I focused the sadness, fear and eventual hope into the work. What I was left with represents all of those feelings in equal measure.
Thank you for your consideration.
Allison Bowman, Olathe, KS - Portals
I used all of your materials plus dried flowers, acrylic paint, sparkly washi tape, and transparent paper. I had made an original collage and then decided to cut that up, then I added more materials to make another collage but decided to cut that up as well. This is the third and final collage. Also it's 8.5"x11"
Jodi Brown, Prairie Village, KS
I was inspired by several paintings from the artist Harmony Hammond. I attended her pre-covid lecture at the Nerman and decided to try a pastiche to develop my own lesson. As I worked, the subtractive process of Mark Bradford and my sink sprayer came into play!
I did a lot of creative experimentation outside during the earlier stages of quarantine. It felt good to loose myself in nature and felt very grateful to have the opportunity. Most of my work failed over the following months as nature (squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, birds, weather) derailed most of my intentions.
However, like this project it was a good exercise. Lately, I have been more willing to approach all sorts of things in my life with a greater awareness of the vulnerability of trial and error. Participating in this project opened up some new possibilities for the abundance of materials and artifacts in my personal stash.
Audrey Campbell, Lawrence, KS - Weighing on My Mind
It represents the hopeful struggle of trying to let your mind soar when weighted down with a morass of worry, frustration, and memory.
Materials: fabric, paper, plastic eyes, washi, film.
Brad Friedman, Overland Park, KS
Medium:
Watercolor Paper, Watercolor, Fabric, Magazine, Acrylic Paint, Corks, Jewels, Film Negatives, Sharpie
Origami, Crochet, Acrylic painting, Collage, Sewing
Materials given:
Fabric, googly eyes, film strips, origami stars, book pages
Added materials:
Magazine clippings, pastels
Eric Pape, Overland Park, KS
Supplies I received: two swatches of cloth, several lengths of 32mm film, some corks from wine bottles, several pages from a book
What I added: an old half finished canvas of Stonehenge, one of my favorite places, lots of slivers of magazine pages
Film, Cardboard, Paper, Fabric, Ink, String, Cork, Plastic Bag
Materials
Hot Glue, Tri-Fold, Images from magazines, Googley Eyes, Justin’s Striped PJs :), Old film
Natalie Beer, Westwood, KS
"I really loved this game of breaking away from my own painting to explore different problems."
This house is post vaporwave, On Record! Mixed Media Collage,12.375 in Square
Stash materials, glued to cardboard Acrylic spray paint
My envelope supplies: Two corks,110 processed film, Cotton fabric, Magazine pages, Plastic baggie
I added: Glue, Popsicle sticks, Gesso, Acrylic paint, Charcoal
Shin-hee Chin, McPherson, KS - Home
I made a simple book and did mixed media collages with stash materials. I chose , yellow, orange, green as major colors for this project.
I made 12 spreads for the poem, "Herbsttag"(Autumn Days) by Rainer Maria Rilke.
Herbsttag(German-yellow)
Autumn Day(English-green)
가을날(Korean-orange)
.
This a lingering thought:
Who now has no house, builds no more.
Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
지금 집이 없는 사람은 이제 집을 짓지 않습니다.
This collaged poem book is housed in a box with house pattern.
Materials are 3 big buttons, 5 vinyl film strips, gray stripe pattern and home pattern fabric plus random pictures.
Kristen Devlin, Mission, KS - The Crossroads
I enjoyed trying digital collage for STASH - the process of taking pictures of all the magnificent items and arranging them felt like putting together a puzzle. Using the design app procreate, I layered the images and then added painters tools like charcoal, ink and pencil to pull the composition together. The story that ended up coming out of the items was a person entering a door under the ocean, under the cliffs. This led down four different poof paths balls of fluffy energy with cork doors. Which one to take? How are we going to handle this? What if it’s ok in the end? Are we ready for that too? I hope to convey optimism with this piece. We will find our way !
Elise Gagliardi, Kansas City, MO
I found this to be more challenging then I thought it would be.
I wanted to allow myself to be inspired by the materials you sent. I decided to expand on the theme or idea of home. Perhaps because I’ve been reading about the nomadic hunter/gather existence of our early ancestors, it makes me reflect on the Absurdity of our current “manifest destiny” ideals. How we idealize cookie cutter housing and gaining manufactured material positions as a sign of success. I wanted these mountains to sort of dissolve into a sea of identical housing units that also mimicked the barn/house motif on the fabric.
I used all the materials in the bag as well as the bag and mailer. I ended up collaging over some of the elements with more houses that I cut out of an old sketch of mine. I used the corks to dab acrylic paint as my sky behind the mountains.
Devin Graham, Parkville, MO
This project was illuminating and so much fun! Honestly, at first I had no idea where to go with this. As a mixed media artist, I usually thrive in this capacity but I found that due to personal stressors in my life, I had artist's block. I finally just started, no plan in place, no intention; until the materials told me a story. We're living in a really dark time right now, but honestly, life is good. I struggle to focus on the positives when so many of the current negatives can be all-consuming. This is why I chose such bright colors. It was interesting seeing the words from the provided magazines placate to the story - the magazine had a brief description about a seascape the author had visited, but there were phrases that felt so relevant to me. I pulled these and layered them amidst the design. It includes the following phrases:
"As for the built environment, the bits I liked best are those that are fading, peeling and generally disintegrating due to the constant assault"
"but it's also appealingly 'empty'"
"turned out to be far more naturally beautiful than I'd imagined"
"All of which probably drive the locals mad, but there you go"
A story was formed.
The collaged neon paper is actually from one of my five-year-old's old art projects - you'll notice there is a handprint in there too. I've also placed the film negatives in a "flip book" style cut out; I felt it was important for those images to be seen - so when the piece is held to the light, you can see the story told.
There is a large, abstract eye in the center of the piece which represents observation; observation in a present-day world of chaos. There is brightness and darkness in everything right now and it is creating a story that will be told from generation to generation.
Melissa Hingula, Kansas City, MO - I See You
Daniel McLean, Overland Park, KS - Taking Back Civilization
Taking Back Civilization is a story about the constant struggle between encroaching human development and nature slowly taking back its rightful place in the world. The materials I was given formed the skeleton for my idea, and then being able to use my own materials gave that skeleton form, gave it body, gave it structure.
In my experience, it was nice making art from home because I was at my “home court.” I did not have to worry if I had supplies or materials. I knew I had everything I needed. As opposed to going to work at the studio, I wasn’t limited by work hours. At home, yes, I cleaned up and stopped for the day, but I got to work as late as I wanted and do more than I was able to do in an average work day at the studio.
I feel very lucky to be an artist during this time of being at home, because my work is not limited by location. While many people were furloughed or unemployed and at home with no way to continue to work, I felt extremely fortunate because I am not limited by where I work. I can always continue to create art for other people, regardless of the situation.
Given Materials:
ziplock bag, googly eyes, brown plaid fabric, print fabric with pattern of houses, camera negatives, manila envelope, and magazine pages
Medium: Mixed Media/ found object sculpture with acrylic paint
Brittany Noriega, Roeland Park, KS - Remember When
This piece was a really fun step away from my usual practice. I was immediately drawn to the fabric and it alongside the magazine images and film made me feel a sense of nostalgia and it felt almost like a bunch of memories from a trip. I ran with that and I created a collage from a “vacation”. I included all the materials you sent me (4 fabric strips, 3 magazine images, 5 film strips, 2 wine corks, the plastic bag and envelope) and included a few things that I had stashed away in my art supplies, including some dried leaves, an old sketch, some notebook scraps and some paper I made myself, with some chalk and marker throughout. The envelope is a favorite part for me and it is interactive, you can remove or add papers.
24” x 24”, mixed media collage on canvas.
Cary Odell, Kearney, MO
This project was so much fun. My “art work “ happens in my You-Pick garden or making fun things to eat, knitting scarves, or crocheting hats. There are times in the winter that I make themed dioramas in cigar boxes to donate to women’s shelters for the kids to play with. Living in the country makes it easy to hold onto an array of items that have the potential to be useful or just fun to have around. Inside the home I mostly collect yarn, some fabrics, and little items I come across that would be unique in a diorama.
In my life there is always such a disparity between the fantasy and reality of situations. That was my reaction when I opened the envelope and saw the contents of the package and read the instructions, I was like ‘uh oh’. Then working with what you’ve got was as exciting as it always is. My first reaction was something more functional and decorative like a woven basket but the more I looked at the supplies I got swept into creating the diorama.
Whatever possessed me to make an origami boat is unknown. I was so excited when I finished it I had great plans to make more origami with the paper, a bench for the boat, seagulls, fish, ummm origami is difficult, except for boats haha. Once the boat was made it was like I was miniature myself and just looking around for what I could use to set up for the adventure. I did get excited about lighting up the film strips in the lighthouse and imagined how cool that would be to see those images on the water while sailing by. With so many challenges in 2020 I identified with the 3 old guys on the boat. We need each other, to have purpose, and memories, even if they have presented us with challenges. We can make it and of course we need good treats. The water was last part of my piece. I wanted it be finished, I was over it, I was chopping paper like a madwoman BUT then really go into it. I was cutting and intended a certain color to land but the other side came up and I would turn it over, then I just let it happen, I got into seeing random words that showed themselves to me, I thought about many memories I have with the ocean, and I thought about the guys in the boat how they would just keep going and having adventure and doing what they needed to do.
The End.
Leah & Ryan Palmer, Kansas City, MO
I am not an artist. But I enjoy artistic endeavors.
When I sat down to plan out what I would do with the materials, I had SO many ideas. I really struggled to decide on a direction for this project. I wanted to do it all! And I realized it was because I hadn’t done anything creative in a long time. I finally just had to start. For me this involved making bold choices – so I started cutting. I needed to have less options. From there I could start to piece it together. In many ways this penned me in, but the experience was similar to so many things right now – figuring it out as I went and making do with the situation as it is. It was a very cathartic exercise for me. I could relinquish control over this one small thing and just enjoy where it took me without worrying about the consequences.
As I continued to work on the project, I pulled in my husband Ryan. He is not typically an art guy. But he also found the exercise of creating something cathartic. It became something we could do together at the end of the day – rather than collapsing on the couch and simply existing in the same space. We would sit together and work, and talk, and laugh. And we found that we had been missing that in the rush of daily life, and work, and parenting, and living through a pandemic.
Thank you for this project. I thoroughly enjoyed this. And learned a lot about myself, and what I need right now, in the process.
Madelyn Raska, Tulsa, OK
As I write this I feel so relieved that it's almost finished. I haven't done anything artistic for three years after I had to deal with a disease that could have taken my life. It didn't, it's over and I'm glad it's gone but it did leave me without energy or desire to create. When this project came along I hoped that it might kick start me back to the artistic life I was leading. And it has, I have pictures planned and a whole new style of drawing that I'm looking forward to experimenting with.
Now, as for the project itself, I could only call it a jumble of conflicting and intersecting thoughts. I looked at the stash for far too long, trying to weave everything together but that wasn't to be. I wound up just sitting down and letting whatever crossed my mind find a place on the canvas. There are places from the past, far past, all the way up to the future. I guess it's a timeline of a mind at a place in time close to the end but still able to conjure up the good from the past. The future is on pause now since we're at a place none of us have been before but might have to learn to accept as the new normal.
The project wasn't difficult to do. Once I quit thinking about it and just let the items more or less speak to me it just happened.
Meghan Rowswell, Maxwell AFB, AL - Miss Eisle Treswoc, Pensacola, FL. The Cooperative Housewife
I couldn't stop from thinking about the little shoe box dioramas we made in school. I wanted to make little masks but, eh? MadMegh proliferates chaos, kisses wolves, and is on the precipice of great change. Typically a textile sculptor, they love an intriguing mixed media challenge while saying everything and nothing in an artist statement.
Elena Stephenson & Anna Noël Campbell, Kansas City, MO - Look Up
“Look Up”’ was a co-collaboration with my five year old daughter, Anna Noël. This piece took shape over a several week period. Anna helped me pick out the images and we worked together to pick where they would live on the trifold. Yes, the backing is a trifold. I wanted this piece to maintain a child like innocence, sort of like a project you would bring to a science fair or art competition in grade school.
There is a theme of vertical throughout. Justin’s striped pajamas are placed in a vertical pattern. Googly eyes are at the bottom of the trifold- “looking up”. There is a hand reaching upward, similar to a child reaching for their mama. The overall thesis of this piece is wanting to be the kind of woman/person that my daughter can “look up” to.