In my last few months abroad, I would like to add to my exploration of physical spaces of Germany a look at just a few of the people who live here. Because I have gotten to know some pretty extraordinary folks in the last two years. So, in the spirit of Shakespeare’s Miranda, here’s Emily Abroad: People.
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in ’t!
Andrea Noeske-Porada: felter, teacher, artist.
I met Andrea while my parents were in Germany–my mother
wanted to take a felting course with one of Germany’s many world-renowned fiber artists, and sent me a list of names to check. Most were far away, in Munich or Berlin, but Andrea just happened to be right across the Rhine. And so I called her, and my mother ended up taking a day-long workshop with her.
And then it just so happened that she needed someone to translate her website into English, and someone to help her in the studio with her next exhibit, and that was that. I’ve since spent many afternoons in her workshop, helping prepare pre-felts or working on small projects of my own or just drinking tea and talking. I grew up felting, and put myself through college by teaching fiber art classes on the farm and making thousands of felted dolls to sell. And then I became a grad student, and working-with-my-hands was replaced by working-with-my-mind. My creative life now mostly consists of libraries and pages instead of soap bubbles and wool. The chance to return to physical creation at the side of someone as inspiring as Andrea is something wonderful, indeed.
Her studio space itself is fascinating: a converted town hall in a tiny wine-soaked village outside of Mainz. There’s a stage at one end, now full of boxes and boxes of fiber, and a tiny kitchen at the other, where there is always tea and chocolate. There’s a CD player for playing tango or Ray Charles, and the afternoon sun shines in your face as you work. It’s all a bit disorderly, as places of creation should be.
Here is Andrea in her own words, in an artistic statement I just translated for her to deliver before the workshop she is currently giving in Argentina:
Ever since the 70s, I kept myself busy artistically with textile materials alongside my study of law. At that time it was mostly graphic wax batiks; since then I have become interested in three-dimensional objects. After my children left home in the early 2000s, I began to look for new materials and techniques. In a round-about way I encountered felt, and after several attempts I discovered the material’s potential for spatial creation. I decided to complete a two-year-long training program, in order to get to know felt from the ground up.
My interest has always been primarily for abstract, reduced, and form-based art and construction, which my study of art history only strengthened. Therefore, it was increasingly difficult for me to take pleasure in the many often overblown, decorative elements, the rounded edges, and the ever-recurring spiral-shaped features which I found so frequently in felt. It appealed to me more and more to attempt the opposite in felt and to find out how and if the medium would comply with my wishes. Inspired from the work of the Op-Art artist Victor Vasarely, I began to felt graphically with angular, sharp-edged geometric forms. The next step was the transferring of these images into the third dimension, that is, into reliefs.
One of Andrea’s creations, on the left, in an art exhibit in Wiesbaden. (Photo credit)
The development of this form of construction took awhile, and still continues today. The creation of single spaces is relatively straight-forward, but the linking of repeated space structures requires a sophisticated plan. Speculating about the logical sequence and the construction became more and more the most exciting part of my work, and the following process of realization completely lost its meaning. I am always getting new ideas about how to make the process better, or discovering new more suitable materials.
In my artistic work, as I said, the construction itself often takes first place, although the changeability and the liveliness of the finished object is also important to me. Textile materials are in their original meaning construction materials: their lightness, omnipresent availability, malleability, flexibility, and focused or spontaneous changeability make them the ideal medium for me. I am not a felter: for me, even the material has an artistic message and it is therefore always vital to think about why I want to achieve something in or with felt instead of some other substance.
In the case of the Felt Foldings [Andrea’s signature technique], the appeal lies in the apparent contradiction between theme and material. The warm, flattering felt does something to angular, sharp-edged objects: it absorbs sound, light, and reflection. Through the mobility of felt, the object or sculpture is no fixed entity, but rather something that can be transformed. One’s perception of and emotions surrounding the finished work can vary according to distance. From close up, the material plays a larger role than the form; from farther away, the architecture comes to the foreground.
Andrea’s left-over scraps, ready to be used in a project of mine.
Evaluating felt samples for the next art project.
Spray bottles, soap, and old pantyhose–tools of the trade.
Tea is important.
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