Craft is about correctness -- domesticity and restraint, ordinary perfection and doing things the right way. Decorative throw pillows help keep up appearances. They make a compelling case that, behind closed doors, everything is in its place.

Lauren McEntire doesn’t try to convince you that she’s got it all under control, and she doesn’t much care about restraint or protocol. She has embroidered a couch, for crying out loud. Not a blanket on a couch or one cushion of a couch. She has embroidered the whole couch. Her sprawling confession completely engulfs you when you sit down. Story after embroidered story tells of clumsy, star-struck experiences meeting her punk rock heroes. And that’s not all. On dainty little throw pillows with eyelet trim, she has embroidered lifelike punk rock portraits of Souixsi Sioux, John Doe, Exene Cervenka, Sid Vicious and others in black floss. On the back of each painstakingly detailed portrait pillow is a silly and self-deprecating fan letter. “You have a unique style that makes you sexy to both men and women,” she tells Patti Smith. “I play your records all day long,” she confides in Siouxsi Sioux, whose fishnets the artist has taken the time to embroider. “When I was discovering your band,” she gushes to Ian Curtis, “I was very depressed, and found that it made me feel less alienated.”

Creating cozy work that invites viewers to literally snuggle up with her music obsession, McEntire takes back domesticity, not by making it tough or rebellious or shocking, like so many others are currently doing, but by making it honest. Sitting on this couch, I like to imagine falling asleep and waking up with all my punk rock favorites, the outline of Exene’s face imprinted on my cheek as I carefully wipe a little drool off of Sid Vicious, original punk, while whispering a sweet good morning to John Doe. This art doesn’t just make you see through the artist’s eyes; it makes you live for a minute inside the artist’s skin, kick back in the artist’s couch, cushioned by the artist’s sappy-soft love for punk rock.

In one enticing quilt that I keep going back to, a tattoo-style text banner asks, in loopy cursive, “Can pop sensibility save us?” The quilt is all reds and blues, and the text ribbon is white – classic. Below the question is an image of five women in 1940s bathing suits and swim caps. Subtly stitched into the background are outlines of barely visible hearts, stars and anchors.

Think of this as Lauren McEntire putting her own work on trial.

The prosecution, eyeing her artwork skeptically, calls the defendant to the stand. “Can pop sensibility save us?” it asks, arching a cynical brow. She answers not with words, but with a defiant row of bathing beauties: Five smiling women embracing the newest trend of their own day. Today’s pop sensibility, she seems to say, is tomorrow’s time-honored treasure. Only McEntire doesn’t wait for time to honor her treasures. She embroiders them on quilts and pillows today.

Take that, restraint.  

-Gina Kaufmann