For as long as I can remember, I knew I was going to be a successful artist when I grew up. My mother was a diverse artist who enjoyed sewing and painting, and would regularly take me to fine art festivals. I tried many different art mediums, always trying to find the one that I enjoyed the most and that I was good at. I carried a sketchbook with me everywhere I went and had stacks of completed sketchbooks.
When I was 14, I suffered a massive head injury from a four-wheeler accident. The doctors said I had a 50% chance of survival, and a 90% chance of being in a vegetative state if I made it. I was lucky. I had five brain surgeries, and had to relearn how to hold a pencil, but I recovered. I also experienced some partial seizures; and in recent years, nocturnal grand mal seizures.
In high school, I had the rare opportunity to visit Germany, Austria, Holland, France, Spain and Italy with seven artists, the objective being to visit the art galleries and museums that are home to some of the world’s finest art. Passionate about pursuing art, I attended the liberal arts college Sierra Nevada College in Incline Village, Nevada. I received my Bachelor of Fine Arts, with a concentration in painting, in 1995.
I struggled to find my way as a painter in a sea of painters. Within a few short years, the art world converted to a digital platform that did not exist while I was in school and that I was never trained to use.
My parents both died within two years of my graduation. Between grief, digital ineptitude and feeling like I was not a very special painter, I fell into a decade-long artist’s slump. Instead of art, I painted houses and worked in masonry and construction. I home-birthed my two children and moved from Northern California to Northern Idaho in 2008.
My interest in textiles began in 2010 when I added a room onto my home. The room had open rafters and exposed silver foam-core insulation. It was Christmastime and I noticed an ornament on the tree: a foam ball with little pieces of fabric tucked into it, giving the appearance of having been quilted. I thought, “I can do that to the whole ceiling.”
With fabric inherited from my mother and clothes my kids had outgrown, the 384 square feet of ceiling was slowly covered. It took almost a year, and my children helped by covering smaller panels in their own styles. At first, the goal was to simply cover the foam core. We worked using serrated sewing wheels and butter knives to simultaneously cut the foam and tuck the edges of the fabric.
As the project progressed, images of my children, a sun, a moon, some fish, bees, butterflies, mountains and trees emerged. My kids and I would play “I spy” for hours at a time, finding things both printed and subjective. This room is now my art studio.
When the ceiling was finished, it was clear that this was my new medium. I was creating and selling my unique art for a couple of years before I was informed that my art was called kimekomi. I immediately began researching it and sharing the techniques and history with as many people as I could.
Kimekomi was created in the middle of the 18th century (1736-1741). The resident artist of the Kamigamo Shrine in Kyoto (which was the capital city of Japan at the time), Tadashige Takahashi, is said to have made dolls from willow bark and wheat paste. Then he cut grooves into them, where he tucked fabric pieces recycled from the priests’ kimono robes. He eventually made several dolls. Originally, they were called Kamo dolls for the Kamigamo Shrine.
Traditionally, kimekomi used no glue. Pieces of fabric were simply tucked into the grooves cut into the fibrous modeling material called paulownia. Paulownia is made of sawdust and wheat-starch paste and was used to create both dolls and, later, spherical ornaments. Modern kimekomi is applied to Styrofoam balls (often with glue) to create ornaments with a quilted appearance.
I began teaching classes several times a month to artists in the communities of Northern Idaho, Spokane and San Francisco. While teaching a workshop in San Francisco, I was surprised to find that although some people had heard of kimekomi, they had never seen or experienced this medium the way I do it.
I start by drawing a simple sketch on the foam-core. It is much like planning a stained-glass design. I cut along the lines into the foam, creating grooves. Then I tuck the edges of each piece of fabric into the grooves. I add highlights and shadows by tucking thin strips of fabric into some of the grooves after the main pieces of fabric are already in place. Although I do create some landscapes, I really enjoy making images of animals, birds and fish. Fur, feathers and scales are a lot of fun and utilize busy fabric well.
I prefer to use printed, patterned fabric rather than solids because the busier fabric creates more interest. I spend anywhere between 20 and 300 hours on each piece. I can usually be found in my studio, watching (listening to) NCIS or Bones while working. Lucy is the studio dog. She is a black pit bull-lab mix and can usually be found curled up and covered in fabric scraps.
I especially enjoy creating custom pieces of art using fabric families provide. Often, people have fabric that reminds them of another family member and they want it transformed into a work of art they can proudly hang and admire with warmth and sentiment. Art made with sentimental cloth is a wonderful alternative to packing it up and storing it in a garage.
I am honored to get to know the people I create art for. Whether making a re-creation of a daughter’s sketch with her outgrown clothes or creating an image of a wedding venue using material from the wedding dress as the moon, I always feel as sentimental about the art as the family does when they receive their custom work of kimekomi art.
Most people have only seen the kimekomi dolls and the ball ornaments, commonly known as hand balls. There are very few 2D kimekomi artists and most live and work in Japan.
I would love to someday be a part of an all-inclusive, retrospective and modern kimekomi show that represents the history of kimekomi as well as what modern kime- komi artists like myself are doing. As a visitor walks through the exhibit, they would see the dolls and sculptures rising into the room, 2D work against the walls and hanging ball ornaments and other hanging kimekomi art floating in the room.
The visitor would get to travel through time and culture, as well as have their memories and sense of nostalgia ignited as they see familiar and unfamiliar fabrics.
The amazing thing about kimekomi is that no two artists’ works look the same. In addition to the natural difference in styles, we all use different fabrics — often from different parts of the world. Every piece is one of a kind and handmade with love and extraordinary patience.
My mission is to honor and celebrate Takahashi Tadashige, the creator of kime- komi, by bringing this unique and beautiful art into modern art consciousness.
For as long as I can remember, I knew I was going to be a successful artist when I grew up. My mother was a diverse artist who enjoyed sewing and painting, and would regularly take me to fine art festivals. I tried many different art mediums, always trying to find the one that I enjoyed the most and that I was good at. I carried a sketchbook with me everywhere I went and had stacks of completed sketchbooks.
When I was 14, I suffered a massive head injury from a four-wheeler accident. The doctors said I had a 50% chance of survival, and a 90% chance of being in a vegetative state if I made it. I was lucky. I had five brain surgeries, and had to relearn how to hold a pencil, but I recovered. I also experienced some partial seizures; and in recent years, nocturnal grand mal seizures.
In high school, I had the rare opportunity to visit Germany, Austria, Holland, France, Spain and Italy with seven artists, the objective being to visit the art galleries and museums that are home to some of the world’s finest art. Passionate about pursuing art, I attended the liberal arts college Sierra Nevada College in Incline Village, Nevada. I received my Bachelor of Fine Arts, with a concentration in painting, in 1995.
I struggled to find my way as a painter in a sea of painters. Within a few short years, the art world converted to a digital platform that did not exist while I was in school and that I was never trained to use.
My parents both died within two years of my graduation. Between grief, digital ineptitude and feeling like I was not a very special painter, I fell into a decade-long artist’s slump. Instead of art, I painted houses and worked in masonry and construction. I home-birthed my two children and moved from Northern California to Northern Idaho in 2008.
My interest in textiles began in 2010 when I added a room onto my home. The room had open rafters and exposed silver foam-core insulation. It was Christmastime and I noticed an ornament on the tree: a foam ball with little pieces of fabric tucked into it, giving the appearance of having been quilted. I thought, “I can do that to the whole ceiling.”
With fabric inherited from my mother and clothes my kids had outgrown, the 384 square feet of ceiling was slowly covered. It took almost a year, and my children helped by covering smaller panels in their own styles. At first, the goal was to simply cover the foam core. We worked using serrated sewing wheels and butter knives to simultaneously cut the foam and tuck the edges of the fabric.
As the project progressed, images of my children, a sun, a moon, some fish, bees, butterflies, mountains and trees emerged. My kids and I would play “I spy” for hours at a time, finding things both printed and subjective. This room is now my art studio.
When the ceiling was finished, it was clear that this was my new medium. I was creating and selling my unique art for a couple of years before I was informed that my art was called kimekomi. I immediately began researching it and sharing the techniques and history with as many people as I could.
Kimekomi was created in the middle of the 18th century (1736-1741). The resident artist of the Kamigamo Shrine in Kyoto (which was the capital city of Japan at the time), Tadashige Takahashi, is said to have made dolls from willow bark and wheat paste. Then he cut grooves into them, where he tucked fabric pieces recycled from the priests’ kimono robes. He eventually made several dolls. Originally, they were called Kamo dolls for the Kamigamo Shrine.
Traditionally, kimekomi used no glue. Pieces of fabric were simply tucked into the grooves cut into the fibrous modeling material called paulownia. Paulownia is made of sawdust and wheat-starch paste and was used to create both dolls and, later, spherical ornaments. Modern kimekomi is applied to Styrofoam balls (often with glue) to create ornaments with a quilted appearance.
I began teaching classes several times a month to artists in the communities of Northern Idaho, Spokane and San Francisco. While teaching a workshop in San Francisco, I was surprised to find that although some people had heard of kimekomi, they had never seen or experienced this medium the way I do it.
I start by drawing a simple sketch on the foam-core. It is much like planning a stained-glass design. I cut along the lines into the foam, creating grooves. Then I tuck the edges of each piece of fabric into the grooves. I add highlights and shadows by tucking thin strips of fabric into some of the grooves after the main pieces of fabric are already in place. Although I do create some landscapes, I really enjoy making images of animals, birds and fish. Fur, feathers and scales are a lot of fun and utilize busy fabric well.
I prefer to use printed, patterned fabric rather than solids because the busier fabric creates more interest. I spend anywhere between 20 and 300 hours on each piece. I can usually be found in my studio, watching (listening to) NCIS or Bones while working. Lucy is the studio dog. She is a black pit bull-lab mix and can usually be found curled up and covered in fabric scraps.
I especially enjoy creating custom pieces of art using fabric families provide. Often, people have fabric that reminds them of another family member and they want it transformed into a work of art they can proudly hang and admire with warmth and sentiment. Art made with sentimental cloth is a wonderful alternative to packing it up and storing it in a garage.
I am honored to get to know the people I create art for. Whether making a re-creation of a daughter’s sketch with her outgrown clothes or creating an image of a wedding venue using material from the wedding dress as the moon, I always feel as sentimental about the art as the family does when they receive their custom work of kimekomi art.
Most people have only seen the kimekomi dolls and the ball ornaments, commonly known as hand balls. There are very few 2D kimekomi artists and most live and work in Japan.
I would love to someday be a part of an all-inclusive, retrospective and modern kimekomi show that represents the history of kimekomi as well as what modern kime- komi artists like myself are doing. As a visitor walks through the exhibit, they would see the dolls and sculptures rising into the room, 2D work against the walls and hanging ball ornaments and other hanging kimekomi art floating in the room.
The visitor would get to travel through time and culture, as well as have their memories and sense of nostalgia ignited as they see familiar and unfamiliar fabrics.
The amazing thing about kimekomi is that no two artists’ works look the same. In addition to the natural difference in styles, we all use different fabrics — often from different parts of the world. Every piece is one of a kind and handmade with love and extraordinary patience.
My mission is to honor and celebrate Takahashi Tadashige, the creator of kime- komi, by bringing this unique and beautiful art into modern art consciousness.
