Art Cloth Network: December 2021

For a time, I lived in a dormitory at Kent State University in north central Ohio. Dorm life was typical and predictable until the unusual and unexpected happened--someone started setting small fires … in a trash can, in the stairwell, in the laundry room. Fire alarms went off, we evacuated, we went back in with no further consequence. Security guards were hired and time went on with no repeat occurrences. We, as residents, suspected far worse on the horizon. “The big one is yet to come” we spoke as we walked the halls or in the cafeteria line. In the dark of a spring night we were jolted awake by the fire alarm, again. The acute smell of smoke awakened our senses. Panic erupted. Our screams and anxiety were calmed by the floor monitor who ushered us out a side stairwell. Everyone got out, no one was hurt. As we left the dorm by the side door, we could see the flames billowing out the main first floor reception area, licking at our top, third floor. For many years after, the smell of smoke raised an autonomic alarm that sent me on a charge to identify the source.

This small exposure to fire was nothing compared to what those in Paradise, CA and other parts of California experienced in the fall of 2019 (and after). Walls of fire on either side of the road threatened as they raced down to escape. The asphalt melted with the heat making it impossible to walk. I could sense the fear they experienced. These reports triggered my memory, so I started an art series. Shortly after I began, the Coronavirus pandemic struck. My concept became more general evolving into the feeling of helplessness and fear of something much larger than life. I created what I call ‘the Corona’ series—the first ‘Tormented’, the second ‘Overwhelmed’, and the third ‘Exposed’.

Like the fire, the virus tormented us through its ubiquitous and unknown spread. These threats, forest fires and viruses, seemed to have minds of their own. We were making masks, we were distancing, we were washing our groceries, all to fight a threat we could not see. The fire turned direction at a whim engulfing all in its path; the virus invisibly lurked where we did not suspect. The virus’ threat also harkened to historical times—HIV, the Spanish flu, the Plague equally as unknown in their time.

Tormented

As the effect of the pandemic wore on, we were overwhelmed by its tenacity to do harm. The forest fires in a more immediate sense overwhelmed entire neighborhoods leaving no option but to escape, losing all in its aftermath. This vision of the fire moving to consume all ahead of it dominated my second piece, ‘Overwhelmed’.

Overwhelmed

Finally, after all, the sense of being raw and exposed remained. Our feelings and vulnerabilities laid bare leading to an additional fear of this weakness and defenselessness in ourselves. We were left with the question, can we endure?

Exposed

These three pieces are currently in the Northwest Designer Craftsmen Virtual Exhibition, https://www.nwdesignercraftsmen.org/. The exhibition benefits the Gallery at the Park in Richland, WA and is open until January 6, 2022.

All photos courtesy of Michael Stadler Photography