What's in a Name?


I once had a proposal rejected and this got me asking the question, Why? Was the Title wrong. What's in a name anyway, is it really that important. On renaming this large work, it was selected in another city. This led me being selected for an overseas exhibition. 

Naming work is always a difficult task. You become so involved with it that giving it a title seems such a mundane end to all that creativity.The label 'Untitled' given some work, is the artist wanting the work to speak for itself. 

In my experience having a title and one that relates to my practice is important. It's almost that the public demand a title these days to help understand the work. A good title can be part of a viewers narrative and leave room for their own interpretation.  It can also give an insight into the inspiration you had and makes people look deeper. 

Don't forget friends and family as they can become a good ping pong point in the best selection too.

A name counts. 


Social Media has changed the way we communicate. We seldom get treasured little notes. 

I fondly remember my Mother sending gifts to me in the 1970's when I moved away from home. They were always well received especially the Christmas Cake she sent to me in London. Sometimes these presents came with no note as my mother was busy. My sister and I searched for the note. The gift was sent with love and we knew it. 

 When we are in a hurry to send a present these days we always include a note. This is one I found the other day from my sister. 

If we had left something behind while on holiday we wrote on the outside of the package, ‘do not become excited’ as a warning this was no present but a forgotten item. 



My grandmother was born in 1900. Those pioneering women made do with making things out of nothing. Recycling was in for that generation. They used cut down trousers, salt bags and anything that still had a bit of life left in it. 

When my Gran passed away I received her knitting needles and crochet hooks. I was in heaven as it allowed me to make many things at one time, so my brain could keep inventing creations. 



How I treasured this box of cherries. My husband in later years was equally thrilled when he saw the box on the kitchen bench. Sadly the contents weren't true to label. A disappointing find for him.


I was about 6 when I learnt to knit and later crochet. I loved the feel of wool. My dolls kept up with the latest fashion. 

I was in demand. The dairy down the street was happy to take anything I knitted and that kept me in wool for the next project.

My studio has a wall of wool and its such a comfort thing for me. The colours, the texture, the inspiration like being wrapped in a cosy blanket. 


Being accepted as an artist in "The First Craft New Zealand Yearbook" printed 1992, was an honour. It wasn't quite the centrefold, but page 61 suited me nicely. This gave me more confidence to realise I did have ability and to be accepted by these other artists was a buzz. I felt my dolls would be proud of this moment too. 

In 1992 one of my designs was selected for the Rothman's Art Awards. This was pretty special for me as I didn't have a lot of confidence in what I created. We attended the fashion parade and it was wonderful to see my creation walking down the catwalk. 

That particular outfit later sold in a Wanaka shop. It was such a buzz.

My knitting these days is not all practical. Heads and the raw product showing the emotions and workings of the fibre are something I’m now exploring. I'm intrigued with the way we interact with the people we inhabit spaces with. Our body language can be very descriptive. This affects the way we view the world.

Boy's Toys

Fear has a debilitating effect on creativity. Since my husband passed away 2 years ago I lost my cheerleader. He was encouraging, supportive and hands on if I needed any engineering done. My creative soul took a back seat. 

Procrastination has never been in my vocabulary but there it was heading a filing cabinet in my brain. Just the simple things of using a power drill all seemed too hard. It was his job not mine. We had been a team for so long. 

In 1984 we gave up our teaching careers and bought a power tool centre shop. It sold various things and repaired anything electrical. I know an armature from a contact and a field from a foil. 

Last week his drill refused to work for me. I thought charge the battery, it's a while since that happened. The charger was working but not the battery. 

On taking it back to our old shop to be checked the battery had snuffed it.  After various checks of a big range of brands, I am now the proud owner of a brand new modern drill. It's my very own. How proud does that feel. Of course I can use it, hopefully!

It is light to use, has a wee glow to show where the screw is and works like a charm. 

My initial fear of being able to use it was allayed as I churned through drilling over 40D clips for my canvas's in quick smart time. 

I'm glad I couldnt find the hand drill. 

The fear of using a drill was holding me back. My husband used to say, 'you have to have the gear to do the job.' I have and I did. Happiness. 

Now to deliver my artwork for the Hawke's Bay Review Exhibition at Creative Art Napier.


I've never been a patch worker as I'm not neat enough. I like hanging threads and seeing the workings of the fabric, a frayed edge, a worn patch or a flaw in the fabric is my ideal. It's just the way nature is. Nothing is perfect and everything has a place. 

I have collected old worn blankets that have a history. My idea is brewing but at the moment I'm at a crossroads. 

The sea I find a peaceful place so I have sorted out some sea colours to see what happens. I have been following Spirit Cloth and Jude's u tube videos are very inspiring.