Browsing by Author "Pettigrew, Ruth, committee member"

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Open Access
In search of self
(Colorado State University. Libraries, 2004) Ferrer, Kim, author; Voss, Gary Wayne, advisor; Pettigrew, Ruth, committee member; Kneller, Jane, 1954-, committee member; Lundberg, Thomas R., committee member; Kokoska, Mary-Ann, committee member
I am a hunter and gatherer of forgotten and discarded objects I find on the side of the road, in dumpsters or in empty fields. In the studio, these materials are reprocessed and reconstituted, becoming metaphorical vehicles to communicate how life and the world impact me. The pursuit of materials is engrained into my daily life. My interest can be aroused by an objects unique form, color, texture, gesture or translucency. This practice engages me with my instinctual nature and begins an excavation of my internal world. Intuition helps accomplish the task. Bringing an intuitive disposition into my hunt gives me the ability to measure things at a glance, to name the essence of the thing, to fire it with vitality and discover its enchantment. Through intuition I learn how to sort and understand my attraction to certain materials and how they are connected to my emotions. As in life, the act of creation is a series of births and deaths. It relies on impulses, desires, patience, surrender, intuition and trust to complete its voyage into uncharted areas of the psyche. The evolution of this process is shrouded in mystery. It is as if I am finding my way along a path that has already been laid out for me, the pieces having already been created. As I slowly sift through myself and let emotions filter through, I begin to uncover and unravel the mystery and discover what each artwork needs in order to become whole. My work is a personal catechism of toil where process and materials act as a door into the psychological and metaphorical meaning of a piece. The materials can be as simple as old discarded wood fencing, rice, straw or windblown plastic. The creation process is triggered and fueled by emotions. Whether it is constructing, sewing, wrapping, tying, carving or stacking, the labor that ensues relates to and embodies the content of the piece. The unconscious, empathic dialogue I have with materials and how to utilize them can be equated to deliverance. Through a sacrifice of efforts I am able to release a part of myself into my work and remember who I am. Much of my thesis work speaks to the Life/Death/Life cycle of relationships, relationships with others and oneself. Each phase of this cycle portrays elements of loss, surrender, acceptance and growth. For example, in "Metamorphosis," the cylindrical, oval-shaped metal cage acts as a physical body to house the thick, opaque plastic sheets that take on an ethereal, sarcophagus-like form (Figure I). The texture on the plastic is reminiscent of aged or dead skin that is dry and ready to be shed. Although the plastic form seems to be nestled in the metal cage, it is also sewn in along the sides with nylon filament. These looped stitches that are randomly placed have been cut, and further suggest the shedding or transformation that is slowly taking place. Two pieces of thick rope are tied and wrapped around the middle portion of the cage with one piece running through the middle of the interior down into the plastic form, coming out on the bottom where it is wrapped around a large, white rock. Metaphorically, this rope acts as an umbilical cord, a source of nourishment and hope for the death process that is underway. The wrapped rock anchors the piece in reality and distinguishes the external world from an internal world. By surrendering to loss, the cycle of death is embraced with new growth being its final destination. The work in this thesis represents a journey of conflict and resolution. The themes of birth, death, home, love, loss, surrender, separation, faith and creation are both personal and universal. These themes have been an integral part of my life since childhood. My work sets the stage for an awareness of feelings and gives the emotions of the past a place to go. As I work out these struggles through my art, I am always cognizant of an underlying longing for peace and comfort. It is the actual physical work of making art that brings this sense of tranquility into my being. It is then that I am home.
Open Access
Thresholds
(Colorado State University. Libraries, 2006) Cornelius-Jablonski, Lynn, author; Lundberg, Thomas R., advisor; Coronel, Patricia D., committee member; Williams, Ron G., committee member; Pettigrew, Ruth, committee member
“...by recalling... memories we add to our store of dreams; we are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost.” by Gaston Bachelard - Crossing a threshold, embarking on a journey, entering an unknown place. These endeavors can be internal as well as physical. Our world is becoming more and more mapped out: we can carry portable Global Positioning Systems on a voyage at sea and know what longitude and latitude we are occupying at any given moment. Radar systems used in air and ocean transportation identify obstacles. We have phones that connect us to others at the touch of a button. We are relentless in our quest to banish the possibility of being lost or alone in the world. Regardless of our efforts, however, it is still possible to experience the mystery in the unknown. In our physical environment, we can sense this vastness staring into the night sky, out to the unbroken horizon of the sea, or into a dense veil of fog. Our psyches present an even more complex landscape of the unknown. Our dreams, moments of silence, moments of loneliness offer windows into this mystery. Weaving is a way for me to express this internal landscape. As I weave I attempt to create a sort of psychic map to navigate the awe I experience when standing at the edge of infinity, whether it is on a ship's bow, completely out of sight of land, or upon waking from a dream in which another drama unfolds in the vast wilderness of the mind. I am curious about thresholds, the place where a known physical space merges with imagined places, and how these intersections can be embodied in objects. Often we are transported into a dream-like experience through memory. The wedding photograph that evokes a specific time, place, emotional state, for example, or perhaps a tactile memory triggered by a blanket from childhood. However, an object that evokes the unknown is more elusive. Seeing medieval illuminated manuscripts for the first time transported me into a dreamy imaginative state that never existed in my own memory. Despite the lack of firsthand experience, it suggests a cultural memory that is linked to a spiritual searching via the language and lush imagery within the pages of such texts. A roomful of books transports me into a place of wonder, awed by the seemingly infinite potential of human experience. I may not know the stories or the people inhabiting them, but it is the possibility they embody that intrigues me; it is as if I am about to embark on a journey to a place I've never been. This quality of possibility is captured within an ordinary object. This sense of mystery and possibility is why I weave. Tapestry is a medium in which the structure of warp and weft create a longitude and latitude for internal maps I want to use to explore these mysterious states. The process of weaving is a physical and psychic navigation of materials that evolves with the formal "terrain" of shifting colors. The hachure technique allows me to weave jagged shapes that are at once about the surface material and what could be the threshold into another reality. The idea of the voyage or journey is both subject matter and process for me. Weaving tapestries is a physical unfolding of time; I'm never quite sure where the tapestry will take me. While there are plans and formal decisions to be made, an improvisational spirit of exploration is important in the exploration of a threshold and the places just beyond.