It's an amazing thing when a gift falls into your lap and as soon as you unwrap it in your mind you know exactly what you're going to do with it. That's kinda what happened in April of 2000. A few months before I had read a book on the journals of pioneer women and was really impacted by their strength and the haunting ring of their words. Something started to tug at me. Somewhere in one of those books I saw where a woman who had gone West in a wagon train had later made a momento of the journey by taking an old weathered piece of the tent they had slept under and stitched a blurry photograph someone had taken of them to the piece of fabric. She had then written in thread simply "Piece of the old tent." Something continued to tug at me. Not long after that I watched for the first time in quite a few years parts of the Ken Burns PBS Series, "The Civil War." Here Burns touched you visually with the power of the old photographs and grabbed you emotionally with words read from the letters of that time. Something started to bug the heck out of me.
Then the gift appeared. On a Sunday morning in April the solidified thought of what I would do with the inspiration I had received didn't exist...but by that evening I had put together what would be the first of thousands of pieces of work that I would sign my name to over the next ten years. Now mind you it was a distant cousin of the pieces I do today, but the idea was there. I didn't wait for it to be worked out perfectly in my head...I just started moving things around and the picture became clearer by the minute. I knew that what I wanted to do would require putting layers together and that it even might mean sewing. Problem was I didn't know how to do that. I didn't like sewing...or so I thought. (Years earlier, when I was a professional singer, I almost quit a band I was in because they wanted me to sew my own costumes.) I didn't own any fabrics really...why would I? But the more I thought about it the more I wanted to stitch that photo down just like my "tent-lady." I gathered up some unprimed artist canvas that I had in my little paint studio, a couple of pieces of cardboard and a couple of cotton blouses whose fabrics I didn't mind sacrificing. Strangely enough my husband at the time, had a little $100 Sears sewing machine in his workshop where he would make little pouches for all the electrical cords he took out on the road with him when his band toured. I had to read the manual on how to wind a bobbin. As it turned out, the imperfection of my sewing was perfect for the rustic, old look I was going for. He also had some photo-transfer paper on hand from trying out photos on t-shirts before the band made them to sell. Basically, I had no idea what I was doing. But I knew to get to the idea I had in my head it would be a process and not an event...so I began the process.
The first piece was rough to say the least...and not exactly what I had in mind. Tried it again and felt like I was getting a little closer. A big mostly cardboard piece followed (still lacking in the fabric department). Not happy. Then I did my first Annie Oakley piece and something clicked. I knew from the beginning I would recognize what I was after when I saw it. That piece was closer to the story I was trying to tell...but it was still rough around the edges and someone who didn't know how to sew was trying to make art with a sewing machine. But, I decided that if I wanted to ever be good at this I had to give myself permission to be bad at it for awhile.
Then I did something that made all the difference. I stopped trying to tell "my girls" and my materials what I wanted them to say and started listening to what they were already saying. The first of well over a hundred quotes, that I would write via this "listening thing" followed, and the gift was completely unwrapped. I love layering fabrics and papers and listening to these amazing women as much today as I ever have. I create over 1200 pieces a year and I love every minute of it. I have never stopped feeling like this work was a gift to me and everyday when I go to my studio I unwrap it again and again.
KC Willis immersed herself as a young girl in the stories of western life and fell in love with Annie Oakley, Calamity Jane and the idea of heading west. Each of her fabric embellished collages tells a story featuring these women and more. Her original "Old Hope and Glory" flag is featured in The Art for Obama book, "The Women - The Flag" is in the permanent collection of The Cowgirl Museum in Fort Worth TX and her collectors are world wide.
KC is an online workshop instructor, as well as holds Studio Retreats in her gallery in Colorado. With over 20 years of experience she is now sharing how she started to where she is now with her Marketing Mindset online workshop.
Website: Lipstick Ranch
Images provided by KC.
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This article is courtesy of the MMCA Marketplace Blog, a
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I have been inspired by K.C.'s work/style for some time now as I struggle to find my niche... but the most important thing that resonated with me from this interview is her comment "I decided that if I wanted to ever be good at this I had to give myself permission to be bad at it for awhile." All too often I allow my perfection-istic tendency to stop me in my tracks.
Posted by: Lynda Stone | March 2010 at 11:28 AM
A great read K.C. Thanks! This story speaks to the importance of following our intuition, even if we do not know where it will take us. And also to the importance of listening to our art!
Posted by: Seth | March 2010 at 10:30 PM