First, look back

FreizeIn the early 2000s I made a few pieces which I described as brodages (collages, but stitched rather than stuck).  They were one-offs, and more a kind of exercise of using up bits and pieces.  Frieze above was made with vintage kimono fabric I’d bought on impulse in the USA, my experimental strip of painted silk, paper figures coloured with pastel, and a piece of wire mesh.

slate1I used paper again in the figures for Hard place and Waving.  They all arose from my thoughts after attending a workshop given by Clyde Olliver I’d attended at the Embroiderer’s Guild in the days when they used to have brilliant classes.  (Clyde Olliver gave me the pieces of drilled slate.)

Waving

I was moved to make Waving in response to conversations with a friend who was having a double mastectomy.

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I then went on to experiment with a couple more pieces: Measured response above was the result of sending off a digital image to be printed on canvas.  An emotional turmoil brought about Sharper – the title comes from King Lear: ” how sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have an ungrateful child”.  During the workshop I had had the idea of making a whole figure out of flint – our garden is full of pieces of flint, and had discussed this with Olliver.  The difficulty was how to attach the individual pieces.  In the end I used linen thread which had been covered in PVA, and wrapped and tied each stone to the wire mesh.

Sharper

At that time I also found the acrylic frames which seem just right for the work.  All the ingredients of each piece could be seen without impediment, and yet they were tidy in a box.  Sharper has two layers of mesh, a finer one at the back onto which is stitched the patchwork of felted knitwear, then on that are cotton figures stiffened by accident – they were cut from the cotton used underneath silk which was being ironed with transfer paper.  Both the colour/pattern and the stiffening went through the silk to the cotton, thus providing me with a bonus!  Then the wider grid went on top of that and the flint head at the front.

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After Sharper I concentrated on the quilt form, both large and small, until another one-off in 2013.  I had created the digital design for Acrobats electric long before I made the piece. But I could not work out a suitable means of realising exactly what I wanted.  Stitch distorts a surface, and yet I wanted the electric elements to be stiff and flat, and yet the bodies to be abstracted and stitched.  Finally what should have been obvious was suddenly clear:  the backgrounds are stitched printed silk, the pylons and wires are cut card, and the bodies are machine embroidered on soluble film.  Sorted.

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I was beginning to work out how to make this piece when I was fortunate enough to be invited by Maggie Grey to take part in Approaches to Stitch – which shows, step by step how I made Acrobats electric.

As I look back in order to move forward I remember how much pleasure I had in constructing these brodages, and how I enjoyed the problem solving.  Perhaps I might think about dabbling in the process again as I review how I am to proceed.

The simple stitch

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Plunge (2016)

All this pondering how or whether to use the felted knitwear I have has got me thinking through the ways I make work anyway.  I know that I always have to have work to think about – I always have done.  It is what motivates my living.  I have to have mental occupation almost all of the time – for instance, I cannot often watch television or listen to the radio without also doing, making, or thinking about something else.  Creative outcomes arise from all the input; the curiosity, the pursuit of threads tugged by the curiosity, thinking, and of course seeing – paying attention.

This was also true when I was occupied with publishing, but with a large and fundamental difference from what I do now.  When I was for instance orchestrating the creation of a book other people’s work, wishes, and money were concerned.  I worked with colleagues who had various expectations of and influences on the decisions I made.  I commissioned the work: writing (although I did write a few myself if I wanted to commission a particular artist who had no particular subject in mind), artwork, production, sales – and then of course the consumers also played a huge and vital part.  With books for children the parents, librarians, and teachers comprise the first level of consumers.

When I left publishing and was thinking about being creative for myself, it was with notional consumers in mind that I started.  I thought I saw a gap in the market for a kind of knitwear – but quickly it became obvious that that was not the right path for me.  I carried the thought of consumers with me when I then combined my hobbies of painting pictures and stitching, hoping perhaps to find galleries which would carry my work.  I had sold some paintings through a gallerist friend in the USA, and a couple of galleries did take my early stitchings – but over the years I have learned that my work is an acquired taste, galleries have to make consistent money, and besides, there are now just so many makers existing and emerging whose work is more appealing, instantly attractive, or fashionable.  Perhaps my work is just not good enough.

But it is more than good for me.  It is taking years to get out of the mindset that developed a successful publishing career, to adjust to a state that is neither paid employment nor hobby, but is a kind of manifestation of being.  But as such it does not seem to fit comfortably into any labelled box.  ‘Twas ever thus: many years ago even at Oxford University Press where I began my publishing career I was labelled an administrative anomaly, in this case because my responsibilities straddled both the schools and tertiary markets.

Although for convenience I have so far put myself in the textile artist box, I do not think that wholly appropriate, despite using cloth and stitching.  Printing is at the heart of what I do, but I am not really a conventional printmaker. Collage, the gathering of divers elements is also fundamental to what I do, but somehow does not wholly describe my practice.  Everything goes towards the way I want the work to look, and the simple stitch is at the heart of it in two ways.

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First, and essential, it is my handling of the cloth.  It is a long slow process which has been with me since early childhood when I sat amongst older generations, making cross stitch cloths.  When I saw Kantha cloths I realised how powerful the simple running stich could be for me.  I have to be a-making with my hands.  It helps my mind to clarify, to digest, to make connections, ….

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The stitching might be described as a kind of colouring in, but it is so much more than that, despite being simple.  When used with wadding (batting) it creates a bas relief.  It emphasises, it provides a flow, and it presents a kind of subtle catching of the eye with colour and shape.  On my Soliloquy project I have decided to keep it muted with the first top stitching before I join the panels and then quilt the whole.

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Soliloquy (detail of work in progress)

With the couple of pieces I’ve explored with felt again the simple stitch I think works well – in Winter sun with the simple outline of the felt itself – and leaves room to appreciate the subtle pattern in that felt,

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Winter sun (2017, detail)

and in Cathedral (below) the simple stitching will I hope calm the somewhat (deliberately off register) chaotic screenprinted fused collage.

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Cathedral (detail of work in progress)

Regarding the use of the felt – you perhaps can see in the full photo of Plunge that I have used a scan of weaving (my first effort with a backstrap loom and knitting yarn!).  The actual weaving – or any felt would have been inappropriate there because of the importance of the relative flatness of the elements making up the image.

 

More progress on 2016 projects

pastimeAs I described in this post last year, I have been utilising strips of knitting in current pieces.  Pleased with the first one I completed, Patched pastime (pictured above) I decided to put together another – this time using the blues.

juggler-blues-wholejuggler-blues-detailThe knitted strips hang in ways that are – let’s say idiosyncratic – and not neatly edged or cornered.  I actually like this, but ’tis true that the bottom corners of Patched pastime definitely needed something more, hence the pom-poms.  This time Juggler, blues while perhaps even more eccentric in its lack of neat outline, delights me equally.  The shape of the whole complements the feeling of the juggler, and echoes the  movement in the knitted patterns.

I wonder however whether I have in fact wandered well away from ‘quilt-ness’ with these pieces.  Can they be described as art quilts?  Almost all of the pieces I have made, and all which have been successfully juried into various exhibitions have been wholecloth, which in itself is a minority sub-set of art quilts.  The knitwear-utilising pair are pieced, but use a non-standard material.  They are made to hang on the wall, and consist of three layers of fabric stitched together, but they are not regular, neat edged rectangles.

I’m really pleased with these two pieces – delighted indeed.  I’m not going to worry about categories: I think that I shall simply say that I use quilting techniques in my work.

New Year: 2016

A new year and a new blog.  I feel the need for a new space into which I can place process and progress.  This is the beginning of my dispensing with categories such as textile art – it’s all work, and this blog will confine itself to my projects, their process, and progress.