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You Are On Indian Land

Finally, after two holidays, mother’s birthday, moving mother to a new facility with better care, cleaning up the mess left in the garage from the manic construction of 30 shipping crates and the house of the thick dust of sawdust that travelled from the garage for the construction of 30 shipping crates, I am able to post about the exhibition at the Museum of Northern Arizona, YOU ARE ON INDIAN LAND which I was privileged to have been a part of with the entirety of my project The Enculturated White Man: If Early America Had Embraced the Nobel Savage.

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The museum’s introduction to the exhibit found on their website http://musnaz.org/features/youareonlindianland/:

From the Comprising a range of materials and processes, You Are On Indian Land addresses issues of post-colonial acculturation, cultural appropriation and social dissonance. Photography, assemblage sculptures, installation pieces, and video work create a visual dialogue and critical perspective on Indigenous art while actively engaging the notion of pop-culture, misappropriation and stereotypical representation through powerful and thought-provoking work.

It was my responsibility to get the work from my home in NW Arkansas to the museum in Flagstaff, Northern Arizona. I was so looking forward to the trip with the help of my friend, Virginia who generously gave a week of her time away from a new job as Director for the local DRESS FOR SUCCESS.

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Virginia Germann

Originally hoping I could fit the work in a U-Haul trailer towed behind my truck. As the number shipping crates increased in size and number and filling the garage, I became increasingly overwhelmed with the size of U-Haul required to ship the project out west. Towing? Impossible! Finally, it was only going to fit in the largest truck and even then, with interpolation, four of the boxed work had to be stowed on their sides.

Tamara Ann Burgh

Locking up the truck

My anxiety over the weather during the three day trip through the often treacherous midwest (several months earlier in the year, in May, traveling through Oklahoma, I had encountered numerous blinding rainstorms and two tornados; one I knew was coming and the other viewed in full form over my left shoulder). My weather map showed light rain the first day, doable, with sun and those little wavy lines the other two days. Those innocuous little wavy lines, in reality, were gale force winds the length of Oklahoma, across the Texas pan-handle and the width of New Mexico. These were winds so strong it took the two of us to hold open the truck door on gas and coffee breaks. Over the east mountains pass into Albuquerque we encountered pouring rain, sleet, snow and the relentless wind. Our third day of travel into Flagstaff was a beautiful sunny welcoming gusty-only winds drive

We arrive early afternoon on Wednesday with the opening scheduled for Friday at 6:00 pm. Lots to do.

Tamara Ann Burgh

Arrival at Museum of Northern Arizona with curator Alan Petersen, Amber King, and Independent Curator Erin Joyce

Tamara Ann Burgh

A fraction of all the crates in the gallery and ready for unpacking

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Unpacking the work.

Tamara Ann Burgh

Preparing the banners for the two that hang on the wall.

Tamara Ann Burgh

Two wall pieces with banners.

Tamara Ann Burgh

A view of some of the installed work.

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Installation view

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Installation view

Tamara Ann Burgh

Installation view with two pieces also shown by artist Chanupa Luger.

Tamara Ann Burgh

Museum of Northern Arizona Director and CEO Carrie Heineken, Me, and Curator Alan Petersen

The_Artists

Artists from left to right: Steven Yazzie, Cannupa Luger, Michael Namingha, Tamara Burgh, Nicholas Galanin

From the museum’s website: Curated by independent curator Erin Joyce and the Museum’s Fine Art Curator Alan Petersen, YOU ARE ON INDIAN LAND features work by Tamara Ann Burgh (Eskimo), Nicholas Galanin (Tlingit/Aleut), Ed Kabotie (Hopi-Tewa), Cannupa Luger (Mandan, Hidatsa, Arikara and Lakota), Michael Namingha (Hopi-Tewa), Steven Yazzie (Navajo), and interdisciplinary arts collective Postcommodity, which includes Raven Chacon (Navajo), Kade L. Twist (Cherokee Nation), and Cristobal Martinez (Chicano).

Also from the museum’s website:

“The exhibition looks at themes of liminality, reclamation of representation, and misappropriation of Native cultures,” said Joyce. “It examines not only the idea of indigeneity, but also what it means to be a Native North American artist working in non-traditional mediums.”

“Viewers will be compelled to reconsider their understanding of ‘Indian’ art,” said Petersen.

The title of the exhibition, inspired by the 1969-1971 American Indian Movement occupation of the island of Alcatraz, looks at the idea of contested landscapes in American, revised treaties and cultural imprisonment. The exhibition debuted at the Radiator Gallery in New York City and was mounted later at the IAIA Museum of Contemporary Native Art in Santa Fe in May.

Tamara Ann Burgh

Talking to members at the opening reception

Tamara Ann Burgh

Talking to members at the opening reception.

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Enculturated White Man

EWM_04 Snakes and Tulips
129 1/2″ X 28 1/4″ X 18 5/16″

This piece is fourth in the series titled THE ENCULTURATED WHITE MAN: If Early America Had Embraced the Nobel Savage Instead of Trying to Destroy Them. The entire series can be viewed in the show YOU ARE ON INDIAN LAND, at the Museum of Northern Arizona beginning November 21.

Museum of Northern Arizona

3101 N. Fort Valley Road

Flagstaff, AZ 86001

The entire series can also be viewed at present on my website THE ENCULTURATED WHITE MAN.

The photo, the focal point of all the pieces in this series, is a found garage sale photograph of an unknown person seemingly taken early 20th Century. I altered the photo with color pencil by giving this person American Indian attire; as if he had embraced the Native American culture.

EWM_04-SnakesTulips-CU1-WP copy EWM_04-SnakesTulips-CU2-WP copy

Enculturated White Man

EWM_04 Snakes and Tulips
54″ X 33″ X 21 1/2″

Enculturated White Man

EWM_04 Snakes and Tulips
Altered found turn of the 20th century photograph. silk and cotton thread embroidery, buttons, silk ribbon, fur, silk, and cotton material

I chose Plains Indians-like dress and motifs for this man. I liked the original photo for his expression that suggests to me a man that would be comfortable with face paint, a top knot in his hair and layers of earnings.

Some years ago I was traveling a highway looking into the bright circle just above the horizon thinking it was the setting sun, but realized I was facing East and in my rearview was an equally large disk also just above the horizon. If it weren’t for the compass in my car, I would not know which was the sun and which the moon; the sun and moon were equally large and equally bright. Some time later I heard Joseph Campbell (THE POWER OF MYTH) speak of this phenomena and it’s mythological meaning for some indigenous people. He stated the sun and moon facing one another may symbolically represent the peak and balance of a person’s life. The sun, representational of the ego, and the moon, representational of feeling and intuition, are in perfect balance and equal power. Between the sun and moon represented in my piece shown here is the land between the two planets and on the land is fire (ego, aggression, power mongering) and tulips (quiet, peace, beauty). The man in this photo appears to be in top mental and physical form and, I assume, in balance with his emotional life.

I am interested in the lizard, snake and dragon as symbols of the fire of life. Life, like the dragon, burns and destroys. The horror is the fact of life eats on life for survival. I am fascinated with the Discovery Channel series “Naked and Afraid” for this reason. The program regularly cuts to snakes in the survivors’ path to intensify the drama of their search for water and animals to eat. The snake slithers in hidden places hunting food; the snake is, after all, just an intestine, the heat of its belly digesting other life forms. The man in this photo, framed by snakes, seems to know this but has reconciled emotionally with this cruel but necessary fact of life.

Mounted to the top of this frame are three posts supporting a badger skull. The badger is also a fierce animal and appropriate for the theme of this piece, that is “life eating life”. I was living in New Mexico when a friend of mine told me of a recent kill of a badger (possibly by her neighbor) she found on her property. I took it and buried the carcass in sand on my own property and let it set for critters to eat and clean the bones. Several months later I retrieved the skull and teeth which now crown this art piece some ten feet in the air.

With this body of work, THE ENCULTURATED WHITE MAN, I not only referenced mythical images and beliefs, there were times when I felt I was directly experiencing them in my own life.

copyright Tamara Ann Burgh all rights reserved, 2015

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The Enculturated White Man

EWM_03 Bug-Duck and Turtle
77 5/8″ X 26 1/4″ X 18″

This piece is third in the series titled THE ENCULTURATED WHITE MAN: If Early America Had Embraced the Nobel Savage Instead of Trying to Destroy Them. The entire series can be viewed in the show YOU ARE ON INDIAN LAND, at the Museum of Northern Arizona beginning November 21.

Museum of Northern Arizona

3101 N. Fort Valley Road

Flagstaff, AZ 86001

The entire series can also be viewed at present on my website THE ENCULTURATED WHITE MAN.

The photo, the focal point of all the pieces in this series, is a found garage sale photograph of an unknown person seemingly taken early 20th Century. I altered the photo with color pencil by giving this person American Indian attire; as if he had embraced the Native American culture.

The Enculturated White Man

EWM_03 Bug, Duck and Turtle
15 ” X 9 1/2″
Found photograph altered with color pencil with fabric and needlework matting.

The original found photo in this piece reminded me of Teddy Roosevelt, the president I think of as the advocate of America’s park lands, nature, Indians and overall natural wonder of America.

The turn of the twentieth century was a time of new sciences including the natural world and Darwinism (Chas Darwin, 1809-1882). I think of museum drawers filled with pinned bugs from around the world and animal taxidermy and skulls. With that in mind I chose to embroider a Rhinoceros Beetle in single strand silk with beads below the altered photograph. The duck skull (probably a Wood Duck) was brought to me from out of the woods by my Chow dog. I was flabbergasted by how delicate yet how intact the skull was, and how gentle my dog was in retrieving it for me.

The translucent shells on the top and bottom of the shrine were once a precious lampshade of my mother’s. Even though the shade was broken, she reluctantly “donated” it to me for a “higher purpose”. Translucent shells for the shrine are natural elements but remind me of the sacred as in a church’s stained glass windows.

The hawk feathers in the tassels are either Red Tail or Coopers I retrieved off the ground from walks in my wooded neighborhood.

The Enculturated White Man

EWM_03 Bug, Duck, Turtle
35 1/8″ X 25 1/2″ X 14″

copyright Tamara Ann Burgh all rights reserved, 2015

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EWM_02-WeazleTail

This piece is second in the series titled THE ENCULTURATED WHITE MAN: If Early America Had Embraced the Nobel Savage Instead of Trying to Destroy Them. The entire series can be viewed in the show You Are on Indian Land, at the Museum of Northern Arizona beginning November 21.

Museum of Northern Arizona

3101 N. Fort Valley Road

Flagstaff, AZ 86001

The entire series can be viewed on my website THE ENCULTURATED WHITE MAN.

The photo, the focal point of all the pieces in this series, is a found garage sale photograph of an unknown couple seemingly taken early 20th Century. I altered the photo with color pencil by giving this older caucasian couple American Indian attire; as if they had embraced the Native American culture especially for what appears to be a special occasion, perhaps a wedding anniversary. The gentleman is making an effort but the headdress has slipped behind his ears contrary to proper placement — over the ears.

The weasel tails are from my own experience trapping ground squirrels (for food and parka construction) in with my Aunt Maggie in Alaska back in the late 70’s. Weasels were raiding the moose meat in the shed so I trapped and skinned them.

WeazleTails_1

The Enculturated White Man

EWM_02 Weasel Tails
There is quite a lot of embroidery in all the matted photographs in this series. Much of it is single thread silk or cotton embroidery like the Indians on horseback above the photograph seen here.

copyright Tamara Ann Burgh all rights reserved, 2015

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Enculturated White Man Exhibit

Fifteen years after I set the first color pencil to a found early twentieth century photograph, the body of work (16 pieces) titled THE ENCULTURATED WHITE MAN: If Early America Had Embraced the Nobel Savage Instead of Attempting to Destroy it is coming to a finish. The work has been invited to to an exhibit in Flagstaff, AZ this November; details to come. During the following weeks I will be showing the series. A description of the work and my thoughts that inspired the work can be found on my website pages The Enculturated White Man.

The Enculturated White Man

EMW_01: 90″ X 27 1/2″ X 16 1/2″ Polychrome wood, color pencil on found B&W early 20th c photo, feathers, needlework, abalone shell, shell, sticks, twine, copper wire, cotton fabric, cotton velvet, buttons, gold braid.

It is difficult to get a sense of the scale with the above picture but the piece is 7 1/2 feet tall. The work is all done by me: color pencil drawing on found photo, needlework matting the photo, frame construction and carving and construction of the stands. This piece was inspired by Northwest Coast Native American Tribes.

The Enculturated White Man

EWM_01, Found early 20th c B&W photo altered with color pencil, carved polychrome wood, abalone shell, shell, twine, cotton, feathers, sticks, cotton material, cotton thread, silk, buttons

The Enculturated White Man

Found B&W early 20th c photo altered with color pencil by the artist, cotton threads, silk threads, cotton fabrics, buttons

copyright Tamara Ann Burgh all rights reserved, 2015

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Mom Has Dementia

Dementia

Mom Has Dementia, 73″X 62″, 2015, oil on canvas This painting will be a part of an upcoming exhibition at Studio C Gallery LA. See http://www.studiocgalleryla.com “Water-line: Inspiration for Change”.

I have been looking after my mother for several years and have posted quippy FaceBook updates on mom’s progress with dementia; posts being usually short, usually funny things she’s done or said. Her dementia however is now beyond my ability to manage and is not so funny anymore. Yesterday, for example, was so bizarre the retelling requires more than a tweet or FB post; it is a chapter in a book on “How to Loose Your Mind Taking Care of a Patient Who’s Lost Theirs”. Here’s what happened yesterday, but first some background events:

Mom was in a nursing/dementia facility last month for a couple of weeks while I got some rest. This facility was highly recommended and I looked forward to the time off especially after all the hoops one must jump through to have a patient admitted to such a facility: paperwork, proof of income, doctor’s appointments for orders, medical history, prescriptions filled, written needs, insurance papers, packing with all clothes and possessions labeled. The staff at the nursing facility was fabulous though the old building seemed a bit overcrowded. Mom had a roommate who regularly soiled her bed and made quite a mess, and, according to mom, messed the bathroom. There was a lingering oder in the room when I dropped mom off and the TV droned with an irritating grainy screen, laugh tracks and nonstop chatter of 60’s era sitcoms her non-communicative roommate apparently watched all day long. It made me sick to leave mom there but I stealed my emotions against her pissed-off-ness and quickly got myself out of there to avoid any begging on her part to take her back home. I did not rest easy during my at-home vacation, especially when a facility staff member called to say they had misplaced mom for a while until they found her under a table with table-cloth hiding from the nurse who mom was convinced was trying to poison her with pills. When I picked mom up I was more emotionally tired than when I dropped her off two weeks earlier. So much for respite care.

Mom has not always been a respecter of persons. Over the years I tried demanding more consideration for me and gratitude for my efforts on her behalf. A few times I really bawled her out but it never seemed to take. My “too-long-for-FaceBook post” today begins with another attempt at teaching and demanding respect from my mother who has late stage dementia. Trying to modify a dementia person ‘s behavior is a fool’s errand.

The madness yesterday began with me promising to take mom to town for garden plants and a book she wanted (she wouldn’t tell me what book it was. Never mind she can’t read anymore). Once she was washed, combed and dressed she was ready to go and ready to go right now. She also made a point of saying she did not want to live at “that place”. Last week I had taken her to a beautiful Nursing Home facility to meet the staff and interview as a place for her long-term. Unlike respite care she would have her own room in a home atmosphere with her own furniture and only 10 patients per home with a beautiful garden patio decorated with soothing chimes and colorful bird houses. I hoped to never have to take her to a “that place” but her dementia needs have forced the decision especially her chronic UTI’s that will create havoc in a dementia mind i.e. delusions and paranoia.  I have secured a room at “that place” for later in the month. I have been conflicted as to whether I should tell her ahead of time or surprise her one day taking her to her new temporary (?) home after a day at adult day care. In other words, do I torture myself by telling her or betray her by not telling her until we drive up to the facility. The later Is cruel but the better of two hopeless choices. I reponded to mom’s concern by telling her I already did the paper work and she will be going to “that place” later in the month. My words would determine the madness to come but, at the same time, sealed my emotional steadfastness that I am doing what’s best for both of us by placing mom in a home, for awhile at least. Telling her this turned mom’s smile upside down and we crossed the threshold into a three-hour snark fest and battle of wills.

I appealed to mom as my mother by saying I am tired and need a break. I saw in her eyes that she wondered, tired from what? I told her that I don’t know what to do anymore about her habitual need to wash and salve her crotch (sorry, readers, but vaginal itching and other unseemly body issues are a major part of elder care). I repeated I did not know what to do about it anymore and when I remind her of the nurse’s instructions; one being she’s drying that area out by over-washing; she insistsed we don’t know what we’re talking about. Again I asked her to have just an ounce of compassion for me and my needs. Of course she wouldn’t consider it. I told her we were not going to town unless she treat me with some respect. If she said something nice, respectful or compassionate I would reconsider taking her to town. I guess my instructions were not specific enough because I was not about to get an ounce of satisfaction. I was simply NOT going to win.

Mom has sneaked to neighbors in the past telling them I was holding her against her will or was going to burn the house down. She pleaded with one neighbor with early onset dementia to call the police on me. He did. She has also set off the house alarm and when the alarm service called to check, she cried out in the background, “Help! she’s beating me!” I’ve jerry-rigged the front door, covered the alarm button and disguised the garage door opener to keep her from running to neighbors. Yesterday, mom, now in a sour mood, wanted to go outside and check on the garden. She can’t figure out the front door so I open the garage door so she doesn’t have a melt down and doesn’t see how I de-jerry-rig the front door. Even though she was angry with me I really thought she would stay in the yard checking out the garden. While she was outside I made a smoothie for myself. Several minutes later I received a text from my neighbor. “Your mom is here.”

The neighbor tells me that mom told her I was planning to take everything out of the house to sell it, that I was going to sell her jewelry for $300. She said I was also carousing with drug dealers in that boat on the lake because they have been there for a while. I have a great neighbor who patiently tried to tell her that it was unlikely I was going to do these things. I whisked mom out of the neighbor’s house and back home but she would not come in, instead she acted as though she wanted to get into the car, driver’s side. Seeing me, she shimmied up the drive and down the street back to the neighbor’s. “She’s not there anymore,” I called out, “She’s gone to work.” Mom turned back then past our drive and on down the street. I grabbed my smoothie still in the blender container and followed her a few steps behind. She started up the drive of another neighbor. “You’re not going to their house,” I said blocking her way. “These are my friends, not yours.”

“Well,” mom replied, “when I tell them about you, they won’t be your friends anymore.” Dementia or the real mom? Like I said, not always a respecter of persons, me included. Mom had regularly, pre-dementia (?) resolved interpersonal conflict with retaliation by gas lighting via an unaware third-party. Fortunately now third-parties immediately see the dementia and don’t believe her story.

Mom “respects” my block up the neighbor’s drive. If they were home they must have been baffled by mom’s and my long silent standoff at the base of their drive with me drinking a pink concoction from a large blender container. Mom finally turns and continues walking up the street away from the house. Eventually a car drives by and she tries to flag it down. OMG! she’s trying to hitch a ride! While she steps to the middle of the street flagging the driver down, I am behind her trying to wave him off. One guy finally stopped for her. He’s confused while she asks him for a ride before I step in to say we’re okay, she’s trying to run away and has dementia.  My usual reluctance and compassion for her feelings in using the word “dementia” in her presence has completely shut down. I don’t care anymore.

Mom who normally can’t walk around the block has, by now, walked a good half mile flagging at cars and asking a guy carrying jerry jugs of gas to his car if he were a fireman. Of course he’s confused and, unlike me, humored by this goofy old woman. “No,” he says, “I’m mowing the lawn.” She wants to know where the fire station is. I tell the guy all is okay, she has dementia and is running away. Mom insists she’s not running away and parks herself in the middle of the street with cars coming in both directions. I tug at her sleeve to get her out of the road. She pushes me off demanding I get off of her. I wave the cars on who clearly are witnessing a domestic conflict and not sure what to do. I smile and wave them on carrying my empty blender container. Drivers reluctantly drive on. I make a mental note of the jerry-jug guy thankful that I have him as a possible witness to mom’s dementia induced queries in case another observer reports me to the authorities.

We are 3/4 of a mile from home and I finally offer her a trip to town if she would turn around. She’s red-faced and tired but I sure as hell am not going to flag down a ride home for her. To my shock, she turns around and heads home leaving passing cars alone. It was a slow walk and she struggled but we made it home and I told her to get in the car while I grab my purse.

Driving out of the neighborhood she suddenly says she doesn’t want to see the doctor on the hill but the one farther down. Oh, Jeez, now what? “Do you think we’re going to the doctor? I thought you wanted to go to a bookstore and garden shop.” She replies, in that oh so irritating snarky voice, she wants to do all three. I know she is obsessing about her itchy crotch right now. Last month she was convinced she had a hole in her bladder leaking urine into her bloodstream and insisted the doctor’s’ nurse (up the hill) sew it up. No can do. Mom no longer likes that doctor’s office up the hill.

“Today is Saturday,” I tell her. “The doctor offices are closed. We’ll go to the garden shop.” She’s exhausted but won’t admit it. At the garden shop the owner says it is a couple of weeks too early to plant with frost warnings still predicted. Thank heaven. For the rest of my life I will remember the garden shop owner fondly for that simple statement because I knew as soon as we got home with plants mom will insist in that oh so snarky voice that we don’t have enough and have to go back. For mom, enough is never enough. I told her we will come back in a couple of weeks (she will be in the nursing home by then) and suggested we get something to eat.

We had a glorious hour of peace over lunch at Chilis. The waitress disappeared for long periods of time but my usual impatience was overtaken by relief for the long peace. I gave the waitress a nice tip when under normal circumstances she would have been penalized for her disappearing acts. Mom was too tired to eat much and passed the offer to go to the nearby bookshop. Another reprieve as she was surely going to ask a clerk for help in an incomprehensible way, the clerk flustered with a real desire to help and after finally finding something, it will be a book we have or one she can’t read. Mom refused to tell me ahead of time what book she was looking for as I am too controlling and have to have everything my way.

Today while I write this, mom has washed her crotch at least four times in the last few hours. Contrary to the nurse’s directive, she aggressively washes like a Victorian parlor maid scrubbing the soot from a marble stair. Yesterday and today any reluctance to place mom in the nursing home has disappeared without a trace even if she spends weeks hiding under a tablecloth over a table convinced the nurse is trying to poison her. I shall not be moved and the move-in date won’t come soon enough. With the help of neighbors and a friend who has been through it, encouraging me, I am managing, sometimes barely, the madness of dementia care. My once dignified mom has done a lot for me as her daughter but right now I cant remember them.

copyright Tamara Ann Burgh all rights reserved, 2015

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Over the summer and fall last year I constructed stands for the ENCULTURATED WHITE MAN: If the Indians Had Won frames. I sometimes refer to them as shrines. You can see a number of the 14 total finished and under construction frames/shrines in previous posts under “frame construction” category. This has been more than a decades long project but I believe my evolving vision of the work will eventually aesthetically pay off. When I finished the last of the frames/shrines last Spring, I popped a bottle of champaign thinking I had reached the finish line but when I envisioned the work in a gallery setting, I realized the stands had to be incorporated into the whole work. Groan. Not finished yet.

The Enculturated White Man

Two of 14 stands completed and ready to paint.

Upon completion of the 14 stands, I believe once the stands are sanded and painted, I will be finished with this project and am ready to open another bottle of champaign. But something is unfinished in this never ending project. I had to remember the theme of the work is about Native Americans, the First Nations, winning the Indian wars, Indians conquer invaders and retain their land and home in the new America. Over the years of construction of this project, I left America behind. I had to bring America back into focus. My solution was to make US flag themed table cloths for the stands.

The Enculturated White Man

More stands ready for sanding and painting. Stands are 42″ high.

Researching and gathering samples that were necessarily cotton and/or wool and/or silk, I chose cotton gauze for the red and white stripes as it was thin and would drape well. For the blue table top I chose upholstery weight cotton velvet. I am embroidering stars in cotton crochet thread on the velvet therefore dressmaking cotton velvet would not have worked as I would need a hoop but the hoop would leave marks in the velvet. Upholstery weight velvet can be successfully embroidered without backing, a hoop or needing to be stretched. I was fortunate to stumble upon upholstery weight from an online fabric store.

The Enculturated White Man

Flags Under Construction

For the entire project I over dyed almost all of the store purchased threads and material in order to age them; knocking back the brightness. Sometimes this was a challenge. The red and white gauze flag material, for instance, is 50″ wide and 10 yards in length. The red was washed twice in hot water making sure the red color was set. I then soaked the yards and yards of material in a dye bath made from the mullein plant. The white gauze was so bright white, I soaked it in a cold mullein dye bath for an hour or so.

I am embroidering 46 stars around the edge of each table top in white cotton embroidery thread also dyed in the mullein dye bath. With 14 table tops and two pieces hanging on the wall with flags, that’s 736 stars total. The work is meant to represent early 20th century America. The flag had 46 stars between 1916-1918. I had to use skills from my old keylining graphic arts days before computers to configure 46 stars equally spaced around rectangles of varying sizes. I am embroidering the stars re instructions found on needlenthread.com.

The Enculturated White Man

Embroidered stars on upholstery weight cotton velvet.

Finished flags and stands will be posted eventually. Maybe THEN I really will be done!

copyright Tamara Ann Burgh all rights reserved, 2015

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