The Scranton Lace Factory Revisited

I returned to the SLC one sunny, hot Saturday because it was so huge I was convinced I hadn’t seen the whole thing the first time I visited. I was right. I crunched through vast rooms of interior landscapes, fascinated by reflecting pools, greenery, tiny waterfalls and a strange moss that covered some of the damper regions of the factory. There had been changes since my visit last fall. The bowling alley was in greater disrepair. The groovy yellow couch had been moved, so had the jaunty chair near the kitchen. I concentrated on the cavernous wide-open rooms, recording the various characters of each one. I found the “crate room” – missed on the previous visit, and the office with its wall of glass block and red mantle. I found the clock tower, previously missed. But I couldn’t bring myself to climb the final flight up inside to get the shot I wanted. The stairs were too steep and I am to afraid of heights. I never made it to the giant loom room, and I missed some interesting spaces in that wing.

But I’m going back. The complex is scheduled to be torn down in October. September 5th may be the last date that the factory will be opened up to urban exploration. So I’m taking it, and I’m determined to climb those steep steps up into the tower next time.

What I did on My Summer Vacation

I’ve been working on this book, a reflection of my other blog NYC Outside the Lines. Go to the site, take a look, and feel free to purchase!


A Visit to the Theater

Picking up on my series of visits to abandoned places, this is a theater in New England. The venue presented some unique problems; unlike the factories, resorts and schools I’ve visited, the theater had no windows. I learned a bit about painting with light and filled in some of the dark corners. It was a pleasure to crunch around on uneven floors, work in silence and smell those familiar odors of abandonment once more. Looking forward to tripping up to the Catskills to explore another resort in a couple of weeks.

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Weaving in the Catskills

I was fortunate to be a member of a team of weavers invited to Catslair, an artist residency at the foot of the Catskills in Upstate New York earlier this month. I spent three weeks creating site-specific works of my own design, continuing my series, Mapweaves, and assisting with a group installation on the beautiful grounds of the estate where we stayed. It is such a gift to be able to spend three solid weeks doing nothing but creating art. The wifi was weak, there was no TV, and even the cell phone signal was sporadic. So it really was a focused period with few distractions but for the daily walk to the river.

These are a few of the pieces I created for the Mapweaves series while at the residency. I’m interested in the play of deconstructing place and then re-assembling the pieces to create merged worlds and lands. The music pieces follow a similar process but take on a different meaning: re-inventing language and information in the highly structured form of the grid, which simultaneously blurs the original meaning of the chosen script.

Some of the things I think about while engaged in the process: places I’ve visited, places in history and how the engage in new geographies when woven together; the sounds of the notes, music past and present, yet to be imagined; the discovery of how small the world is: how closely culturally diverse cities reside; how large the world is, that the earth holds so many places that no one person will hope to visit all of them, ever.

All of these works are woven paper with beeswax. They all live in my studio, which is open by appointment or chance.

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Community Gardens of the Lower East Side

Back to the Lower East Side, this time to tour a very few of the scores of community gardens in the neighborhood. The flourish of greenspace cultivation started in 1973 with the Green Guerillas, a movement that began with a single seed bomb tossed into a vacant lot.  A reaction to the territorial divides brought about by the financial turmoil of the decade between the foreclosed, the city and urban pioneer developers, the movement quickly gained momentum. Gardeners educated themselves and began to organize; these urban oases sprang up all over the city, but are most concentrated in the East Village and the Lower East Side. This map lists 85 current and former gardens below 14th Street:

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Noted on the map are several endangered gardens, and some that have been demolished, so the fate of this movement is still in question.

And Now For Something Completely Different

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This is a series of weavings I have been working on in the studio for the last six months or so. I cut maps from old atlases and then weave them together to create new, mystical countries. After weaving the maps together I treat them with wax and then sometimes add other materials: string, photographs…

I’ve always had a fascination with “place”. And I enjoy working with encaustic to create weird collages. The process represented here combines these interests.

New Orleans

These are all from a trip to New Orleans a friend and I took this past week. The vibrant color is real and aptly represents the positive energy of the neighborhoods we visited. Most of these were taken in the Bywater, some in the Warehouse District.










Last week I wrapped up another road trip. We drove form NYC to Florida to visit friends and relatives, and to get some relief from the cold. On the way we stopped for lunch at South of the Border. It wasn’t how I remembered it – but my first visit was on one of those a dark, rainy nights where the world is all but invisible..

I was here only once before, years ago. My parents were stationed in Orlando, Florida and I was going to school in upstate New York. After freshman year I accepted a ride from an acquaintance who lived in Miami. He had a van, long hair, and he drank a lot of coffee and smoked a lot of cigarettes between Annandale and Orlando. I was feeling crummy the whole trip – the last night at school had been celebratory and I probably smoked two packs of cigarettes along with whatever we all drank at the final party of the year. So I quit. I’d been smoking since I was eleven, I was addicted, but that was it – I just didn’t want to ever smoke another cigarette – so I didn’t. Still haven’t.

My driver wanted to go straight, without stopping, all the way to Florida. He mentioned dinner at South of the Border – something to look forward to. Other than that he didn’t say one word to me the whole ride, and, since he was a graduating senior on his way to law school that fall I was too intimidated to start up a conversation. I remember it was raining – dreary. Finally we pulled into the small metropolis that was SOTB and walked into a shabby little building where you had to order at the counter then take your food to a table nearby or out to the car. It was crowded.

After several minutes on line my companion stepped up to the counter and ordered for both of us. A woman at his elbow received her order but told the counter attendant to take it back. “He breathed over my food” she said. Loudly and glaring in our direction. I steeled a sideways glance at my companion. He was looking down at the counter, his cheeks reddened. After some back and forth the lady was brought a new dinner – the styrofoam container sealed shut. We stepped aside to let her pass.

We took our food to the car. We ate in silence. My friend drove. I slept a bit after that, and when we arrived in Orlando he helped me to the door with my bags, said hello to my parents and went on his way.

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Dyker Heights Christmas Spectacle

NYC Outside the Lines

Frederick Johnson had a good deal to do with the development of this neighborhood in the late nineteenth century. Before it’s transition to a suburban development Dyker Heights was designated as farm land; crops included grains, fruits and vegetables. What began as a largely Anglican enclave evolved into an Italian neighborhood as those immigrants began pouring in during the first half of the twentieth century. Many of the homes were converted to Mediterranean style with notable statuary and topiary adorning their well-manicured yards. Sometime in the 1980’s the residents began outdoing each other with fabulous displays of light and color during the Christmas season. Now Dyker Heights is known as the number one destination for fans of Christmas light displays. I visited at dusk and was enthralled by the transformation as the sun set and the lights clicked on.

I’m looking forward to revisiting the area in the spring. The…

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Outside the Lines – a limited edition book of photographs by Madeline Wilson

The ICP Bookstore hosted a signing of my new, limited edition book, Outside the Lines, featuring work from my abandoned series on Friday, December 12. The book is nearly sold out but I have a few copies left. Look for the announcement of the second printing later this winter. Thank you for visiting the site!

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For inquiries about purchasing a book or prints of the photographs you can reach me at

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