Not making it

It is a very strange thing to be building up for a big project and to have nothing much to show for it. The Lasting Impressions project I am currently working on with Claire Wellesley-Smith is something very different for me. As a performative work, it will take place and grow in situ at Salts Mill. It is such an exciting opportunity and  I feel really honoured to be able to work on this.

It took me by complete surprise (although it probably shouldn't have) that I have missed the slow build-up of making that I usually associate with a project. I miss the making and I miss the reassurance of a physical object taking shape. It makes me nervous to have nothing in my studio and just lists and invoices in my notebook.

I keep telling myself that the magic will happen in the moment... Fingers crossed!

Unpacking - repacking

It's been a busy few months for me, both in the studio and out and about. I haven't had a lot of time to think. Today I spent some time packing and re-packing artwork, which provided a little time to reflect on the projects I have been doing and where they are taking me. A talk I gave last week also gave me a chance to think about my creative practice and the many changes of direction I have followed.

Just at the moment I really feel like I am getting somewhere with finding ways to express my ideas. Of course there are lots of things I want to develop, but I do feel like the 'visual language' I am working with feels right.

There have been a few ambitious projects I have pursued that have worked out well, and shown me that I can work on a big scale (when before I thought I couldn't). I have also enjoyed working on installation pieces, which seems to satisfy an urge to arrange things in a space. I have also learnt a lot about myself, which feels like the whole point of making art, perhaps?

 

Revising and rethinking

My work for Pick & Mix has caused me worries this week. After agonising over the shade of red used for the cross stitching I came to a realisation that it was all wrong. I was unhappy with the red, unsure about the presentation and disappointed with the look of the whole thing. I think also I have been worried about whether this piece is truly representative of my own practice.

I was pretty miserable about the project and felt like throwing in the towel. However I took a step back to reflect and consider my options. One idea that had been floating in the back of my mind was to use the stitched paper as a negative for a cyanotype print. So I did some very quick sampling and was really happy with the results.

I feel the quality of mark achieved is delicate and ghostly; a mere trace. It looks much more interesting and develops the original weave drafts and lifting plans I was studying into something that is a more personal response. By taking the designs through another process they become increasingly vague and unreadable; one of the points of the work is to portray the disappearance of specialist technical knowledge.

So now the shade of red no longer matters but I still have so much work to do.

Hopping

I have never been one for chain letters and such like but my friend and fellow textile lover Claire Wellesley-Smith asked me if I would take part in a 'blog hop', so I thought why not throw caution to the wind.

This blog has always been about reflecting on my practice and so it is always useful to have a few prompts in order to step back and take stock. Here goes...

What am I working on?

Just now I have a couple of projects on the go. In fact they are both works that have been on and off for a while with shifting deadlines. Firstly I am working on a project with the Bradford Textile Archive, which involves a wide spectrum of artists creating responses to the collection. My work responds to some weave designs which will be translated as hand stitch on paper (image below). The exhibition, called 'Pick & Mix', opens 13th January 2015 at the new Dye House Gallery, Bradford.

The other project I am finishing off is my 'Linear Mapping' installation work, which I have written about previously here, here and here. The work involves creating a series of threads that each represent walks. I have the finishing touches to complete before that heads down to One Church Street Gallery, Buckinghamshire for 'Pinpoint II' in February 2015.

How does my work differ from others of it's genre?

I find this a tricky question as my work is so varied. In my practice I explore very varied subjects and ideas (as you see in the above two projects), I have no single technique or material that characterises my practice although it is all grounded in a sort of vocabulary of textiles. Using stitch, natural dye, cyanotype, applique and print I find ways to make marks, echoes and traces. My work has sometimes been referred to as ghostly and, whilst this isn't exactly a quality I am looking for, I think my work often has an ethereal quality; something that might fade away, the invisible made barely visible.

Why do I do what I do?

I suppose I feel that there are some things that are difficult to articulate with verbal language, so for me art is a way of expressing but also recording an idea. I am also acutely aware of the transience of life, of moments that slip away, of fragile objects that disintegrate; making can be a way of attempting to capture this fragility, futile though this might be.

How does my process work?

My creative process is much more about immersing myself in the subject matter, than in a specific technique or material. In particular walking has an important role in my practice.  It forms part of my research process, enabling me to observe and experience my environment. Making similar walks at different times and seasons I observe subtle changes in myself and the landscape. The speed of my walking might be influenced by weather conditions and the observed flora and fauna may vary from day to day. Capturing the things I observe, trying to contain my thoughts and feelings I use a variety of materials and techniques. Often my ideas are 'contained' within a particular object or form as a kind of vessel.

So that's all from me, and I pass on the blogging baton to someone with very different work, which I admire greatly; award winning photographer and studio buddy Carolyn Mendelsohn.

Studio discipline

Yesterday I started the day in despair. My work was awful and I had no time to start again. By the end of the day I was feeling really positive. Pinning the work up and stepping back it wasn't really as bad as I thought. John helped me to see there were some small alterations I could make.

On reflection I realised there are some simple little elements of studio discipline that are crucial to my creative process; making a cup of tea, putting on my linen apron, switching on my favourite radio station. Without these I am all 'at sea' and struggle to settle. This routine helps me to switch over to studio time.

I also find the rhythm of hand stitch a calming element of my practice, although I haven't the patience for large amounts of it. Small areas of stitch work well for me, as a way of blending together disparate elements.

from the other side

Hanging work

For final year students up and down the country now is a stressful time as they hang their work for degree shows. For lecturers it is easy to become complacent when this becomes an annual round of white paint and plinths. This year because I have been busy making and hanging work this has given me a healthy perspective.

'Putting on a show twice a year is like going for a thorough check-up at the doctor's. I think it does me a lot of good... Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn't, and in that case you have to tear everything down and begin again. But in any case we have to carry on moving forward, continuing our research, doing new experiments. That's how innovation happens, with us confronting real life...' Issey Miyake: Making Things by Kazuko Sato and Herve Chandes (1999) 

So I try to keep in mind that hanging an exhibition, however big or small is not the end of something, it is merely a place to pause, step back and reflect on the journey ahead. So be brave, put the work on the wall (window, floor...) admire your achievements and invite criticism.

... and good luck to my lovely third year students; you're nearly there!

Mind collage

The frustration of struggling to visualise complex organisations of ideas and things has caused me many struggles through the years but it is only very recently I have realised the connections between these various challenges and how I choose to overcome them.

As a child writing never came naturally and at secondary school the struggle was so frustrating I sometimes resorted to cutting up my essays and joining them back together with sticky tape to help me organise my ideas. I was reminded of this during the week as I wrestled with the writing up of the Prince's Shirt Project. The result was a kitchen wall covered in print outs, post its and washi tape, the only way I could move the ideas around where I wanted them.

As a keen gardener I only took on my first garden two and half years ago but have found it surprisingly difficult to design with plants. I struggle to visualise the effect I will get without putting them in and then moving the poor things about at a later date.

So perhaps it is unsurprising that in the studio I find it hard to plan out and execute a piece from scratch. Instead inevitably something is started, cut up, moved around, placed and replaced until the componants seem to fit.

I wonder do I have to always struggle, can collage be a way of life?

A question asked

Recently someone asked me about the direction of my practice, how and why it was that I had moved away from working with historical textiles to work with ideas around landscape and whether I planned to ever go back to this. A timely question I thought, and one that raises plenty more.

When I think about the different directions my practice has taken through my short career so far it makes me feel fickle. I dare say I have a short attention span. But perhaps in another way I am just interested in a lot of different things, and those are the things that make me, me.

So Visible Mending just finished in the War exhibition, I have the Prince's Shirt research project ongoing and I had a wonderful day on Sunday at the Antique Textile Fair in Manchester; my passions for historical textile are certainly still strong. On the other hand my interests in walking, observation landscape and sense of place are also constant. My compass needle is constantly changing; my interests change from day to day, I do not have a single way of working, a particular process or material that defines my practice.

So I don't really know what defines my work, other than it is mine. But in responding quickly to the question I realised something crucial, the thing that is most important is that I respond to a project or idea with integrity and honesty.

Here are some little experiments with from the studio today.

Adjusting settings

The only settings that needed adjustment today were my own. I realised I was in need of some time closer to nature.

 

Feeling lifted and refreshed from a short, muddy stroll down the track next to the railway line. Walking as a restorative act is much underrated.

A golden walk - step by step

Just after I took the last photo my battery died and I spotted the perfect shot. Although slightly disappointing, it made me realise that while I am walking around viewing the world through a little screen I am missing out on a large part of the experience. Being without a camera I was suddenly more aware of textures, scents and sounds. I found myself looking around at my direct surroundings on a more human scale, rather than 'viewing' and framing the landscape as an image.

This is a timely observation as this morning I made a note to myself to consider the scale of my work. Throughout my MA research I was constantly trying to capture the experience of landscape and the enormity of emotional response, but recent works have returned to a much smaller, human scale. Perhaps I am finally realising that landscape / nature / places can only ever really be understood on a small, human scale. Leaf by leaf and step by step.

Taking stock

A great sense of completion after taking the work down on Tuesday evening. Thank you so much to all the lovely visitors we had (about 100 by our reckoning). I enjoyed some fascinating conversations with people about textiles, photography and local flora & fauna. I suspect I may notice a few folk looking for clams in the Aire in the future.

I couldn't resist coming home with a lovely cherry wood bowl made by Hugh.

... and I hope this will be the first of many meetings and collaborations with Clare.

Time now to take stock, reflect and look towards my next path.

More Progress

I think the process of signing up for the Bradford Open has galvanised me into action. It has been a long time since I have felt so productive and the work seems to be going along without much of a hitch. Just this week I have made four small finished pieces that I reasonably happy with; remarkable! I am also pleased to have been working a lot with stitch, and have been finding this a lovely fluid process.

The work I have been doing recently has a strong connection with the work I did as an undergraduate but with the benefit of a richer understanding of my subject matter. The work uses found objects and materials to create responses based on walking and observing the local landscape. I have been doing this for some time, but am only just now starting to combine this methodology with something that is accessible and has the look of a finished work or composition. I am really pleased to be getting back to this way of working as I have often wondered how and why I came to veer away into the world of cute and quirky? Staying true to your artistic vision is hard, but I need to continually question and push my practice so that it doesn't slip away from me. Students take note!

Busy... doing too much?

I have been away on holiday and generally busy. House moving plans are hampering my efforts to get work completed for my final MA assessment in September. Things are getting pretty urgent on both fronts and I am feeling stretched. My brain can't seem to settle on any one thing with so much that needs to be done.

Wood Sorrel and sweet wrappers

With a deadline and the immense pressure arising from this, comes a sense that something significant must be produced and I worry that I become an art making machine. I feel as though I am going through the motions and ticking things off the 'to do' list but am I making the thoughtful, personal work I set out to make? Would it be better to make one tiny thing made in a moment of inspiration rather than a vast installation produced without thought or authenticity? I already know the real answer to that, but I can't quite bring myself to sit back and wait for lightening to strike when I know the exhibition looms ever closer. Perhaps I should give myself a good talking to.

In the meantime here are a few images of the work I have been slaving over.

These images are details of a really long embroidery on wool, a bit like the one that was stolen, only this one has taken me ages longer and I had to cut it up to dye it (another drama!). I hope it works out okay as I have planned for this to be a map you can walk on. The way I feel at the moment I'm not sure what it might become.

Speaking in Silence

Today I was part of a crit group led by internationally renowned textile artist, Alice Kettle. I have been finding these crit groups incredibly helpful, having a dialogue between groups of people I wouldn't normally hear from is so useful. Sometimes we get too stuck within our own ideas, so this has been helpful to shake out the cobwebs. There is a certain degree of divergent opinions, but I feel this is also helpful in showing me areas that are less resolved.

In this morning's crit I chose to use a 'Silent Crit' format to start with. In this I did not introduce the work, but listened while the group explored, investigated, looked for clues and discussed how they felt about the work. Through this process I learnt that my work largely communicates what I want and that people are responding to the space through emotional and sensory means. There seems to be a primal, instinctive understanding of the work (yipppeeee!). The work certainly seems to translate my own emotional position. People seem particularly taken with the large 'canopy' piece, although they perhaps talk about this less. I don't mean to sound smug, it's just that I feel like it's been such a struggle at times and I really wasn't sure if my work was able to communicate my ideas successfully, so it's a big relief to know I am making progress.

One thing that is clear to me is that I need to review all the different elements, considering how the different pieces might form a dialogue. Alice picked up one of the bundles and placed it on the embroidered woollen piece, and I began to see how this is something that can become much richer and rely less on my pre-conceived ideas of display.


So much to think about and more crits to come...

Playing with Space

Another busy week, including exciting events for my MA at MMU. During Testing Time everyone is invited to put their work up and take part in critiques with lecturers and invited guests. I felt rather rushed in putting up my work, and it was particularly difficult doing it on my own but somehow I got there. The idea is to try out the work in different ways or find different ways to 'test' the work. For now I have used the big found fabric as a canopy and the smaller fabrics are suspended or 'floating' in air.

I had a brilliant crit with Tabitha Kyoko Moses on Thursday morning and it was really helpful to have Sioned in the same group as we learnt a great deal from each other's work.

From the crit I have begun to realise that I do not need to recreate the whole atmosphere of the woodlands, my work can act as souvenirs of my own experiences. Furthermore I had been trying to find a way of putting my own image into my work; during the crit Tabitha, Sioned and Magdalena pointed out that my work already includes a trace of me from the making process and in my handwritten labels etc. It was a wonderful revelation that might have taken me years to come to on my own!

Everyone seemed to feel the space worked really well and achieved a certain calm, soothing feel. I think I now need to be more adventurous with the scale of my work. I think I can use a much bigger space if I am adventurous. It's now or never!

I am very much looking forward to further critiques next week, including one with Alice Kettle.

Slow Textiles Conference - Stroud International Textiles Festival

I have been using today as a rest and catch-up after a busy week. Last weekend I went to Stroud International Textiles Festival specially for the two- day Slow Textiles Conference. The event included several speakers that I have been interested in for some time; Becky Early, Clara Vuletich and the chair Helen Carnac. It was a brilliant opportunity to hear from people at the forefront of environmental awareness in textiles and the slow movement.

I found the lecture by Emma Neuberg especially thought provoking as it delved deeper into global, social and personal contexts for 'fast' and 'slow'. I was surprised to find myself quite emotional about this. I shouldn't have been surprised as the subject runs so deep in our capitalist consumer culture and affects us as all. Patterns of behaviour and social norms are so ingrained that we stop noticing.

A few words from the conference on slow:

wellbeing

participation

collaboration

reveal

biodiversity

cultural distinctiveness

practice

people

care

sharing

discussion

durability

taking responsibility

artisanship

passing on

making

eco systems

time for reflection

trust

connectedness

generosity

process

When I think about all of this I realise it brings me back to where I started at the beginning of my MA (in a good way). A brief recap will draw some connections with my research over the past year and half, and the fast / slow subject:

• I started out with a whole muddle of different ideas that seemed connected but struggled to work out  how...
• then from this developed two distinct themes: busyness and quietude
• these themes of quietude and busyness represented my personal response to environment - speed of living; proliferation of image and object; over-stimulation; becoming de-sensitised; longing for space and time for reflection; looking for deeper engagement with the world
• I can now see these themes as closely aligned to ideas of 'fast' and 'slow'
• I have also been looking at particularity of place and feelings of home, belonging and displacement
• Some of this needs to be re-instated in my work - meaning, depth of engagement, sharing, personal wellbeing, connectedness, etc.
• My recent exploration of Hirst Wood as a specific focus for my work has given me the time and space I needed to reflect and 'open out'.  Perhaps I have forgotten this and become too wrapped up in the process of making?
• The use of hand processes and materials found in situ has helped me feel more connected to my surroundings and given me a place to belong

There is a lot to draw out from this and I am only just beginning to realise the significance all this has for me. I have a lot more to do in understanding how to put this into practice.

Moving and Making

The process of clearing out all my junk (precious and lovely as it is) in preparation for moving house has led me to think about materiality. Things can be beautiful, transfixing and hold associations and memories but at the end of the day they are just things and I think most of us (me especially) have too many of them.

It might be an odd connection to make but I was looking at antique/vintage wardrobes on Ebay and realised that the fixtures and spaces inside them just wouldn't hold anywhere near all my clothes. I am sure a lot of other people would be the same. I was wondering why our ancestors had so much less? Is it the cost of things that has made them so consumable and therefore desirable? Or is it that there is so much more choice; more stuff to want?

I know that is all another big debate, but it made me think about the things I make; when I make something what future does it have, what are my intentions and why have I put it into the world?

Getting rid of things is a big burden but making them (or generating a demand for them) is an even greater responsibility. Perhaps I should be making things that are intentionally temporary?

Space to reflect

Today I took the opportunity of some available space at university to pin work up and look at it in a less cluttered space. This is something I should have done some time ago and was a really useful process.

I will try to briefly outline some of my thoughts and the feedback from my tutorial:

1. The fabrics look much better with white space around them. They look more intentionally like objects to view with consideration - perhaps they look like artworks?
2. The folds and creases are really interesting and preferable to the fabrics ironed flat. The folds give a suggestion of landscape and of representing evidence of time and memory.
3. These pieces need to be seen out of the woodland context (they look better in a gallery setting) because they are ABOUT the experience of the place - they are not of the place.
4. The smaller pieces work well when viewed as a sequence, almost like reading a sentence. The small bundles and threads work well as part of this sequence, rather like punctuation.
5. The darkest brown silk piece has some structure appearing in the creases that formed during dying. This suggests the idea of working in 3D, but this could look tacky so I need to be cautious.
6. I think I need to experiment with the fabrics in combination with light and could play with shadows.
7. I would like to introduce stitch into my work more and I might try stitching white on white before dyeing.

Finally we decided I will explore the possibility of REALLY BIG textiles, as well as working on small pieces. I am quite excited about how this will all develop.

Found my direction

Having been wandering in the wilderness for so long I am finally feeling as though I might have a purpose in my work. I don't know any details yet but I think I want my work to become less about myself, but to start working with other people. I realise I have a lot to give, and creative practice does not have to be selfish or self-centred.

Above are my poor old hands - I think I was born with old hands.

Developing opportunities for people to experience places in new ways, interacting with the local environment, developing awareness of sustainable lifestyles. These are some of the ideas I want to start working on.

Why has it taken so long for me to get to this?

Unknown paths

So much to write I don't know where to start. A lot has been happening and it all means I know less than before, which wasn't much.

It's late and I have put off working all day by finding jobs to do or just pottering. I have a feeling that blogging is also counter productive, and not 'the real work' I should be doing. I suppose then the question is what is the real work?

I just came across a lovely blog entry by Spirit Cloth called 'refining the place idea' in which she discusses the marks left on us by place. Seemed somehow apt and in tune with what I had been thinking.

That aside...

After a deeper than usual tutorial on Thursday I left feeling like I was finally starting to look for what I want to do. Having prepared with a mania of mind-mapping and list generating it soon became clear that part of this exercise was limited by the perspective of my starting point; if you don't ask the right question how can you possibly come up with any meaningful answers? So do I need to ask myself more searching, difficult questions? Can I ask useful questions at all, or is it all limited too much by my own narrow perspective?

If I want to get anything meaningful out of my practice and really push myself (which I do) then I need to allow myself to let go of everything I feel comfortable with in my practice; perhaps only holding on to a few things that are truly important to me. The exercise in 'free falling' is scary and I don't know where to start.

There was a great deal of emotional turmoil during my tutorial that is too personal to go into in such a personal arena. However this is clearly at odds with the idea of me exploring my emotional responses through my artwork. I suppose at the root of all this I am not very good at letting things out, that's my problem. (but this might surprise people that know me!)

Sorry, no nice pictures - nothing to show for all my thinking ...