I’ve always been interested in taking fragments from the past and integrating them into the present. Flour bags have been used by previous generations.
This pair of size 1 shorts were made by my mother for my brother. She has used a pair of my Dad’s cut down trousers and the lining is an old flour bag. Such versatility and the price, nothing.
This pile of flour bags are about to get a new life.
Making a baby blanket from homespun wool was a challenge and I thought about it for a while. There are no patterns as the ply of the wool can vary according to how fine the spinner spins it. My mother was a fine spinner.
All patterns recommend a test square to get the right tension. I'm never a fan of that so I cast on 150 stitches to see where that led me. The wool still has the sheep's natural oil and is easy to knit.
The result is the blanket below. Trust my cat to get in on the picture. She loves art and wool.
Words have always interested me and I would read the dictionary as a small child. I saved my pocket money to buy an Olivetti typewriter. It's portability attracted its purchase but I don't ever remember taking it anywhere.
The ribbon had dual red and black, it could underline and make capitals. How I loved that versatile little machine.
When I got married my husband owned an Imperial machine with a golf ball. This apparently was an amazing machine with a golf ball. I have always regretted selling my wee work horse but yesterday on my birthday my son gave me an Olivetti just like my old one.
For my 21st I received a spinning wheel. My mother had a mahogany one and the rhythm of watching that wheel spin around was hypnotic. When my wheel arrived I was surprised how easy it was to turn the raw fleece into wool. I had watched it often enough it was imprinted on my mind. From spinning, plying to skeining involved many hours of work. My Dad was always roped in to help with the winding of the wool. It was a good time for chats.
When my mother passed away in 2004 their house had skeins and skeins of beautiful fine handspun wool. Some white some black some grey and even balls of wool dyed with lichen, onion skins and walnut husks. How she loved to experiment.
I'm planning something special for this fine fleece.
Remembering 2017 seems like a good idea as a new year unfolds. With determination and a will to progress through grief I did set some goals.
As if I needed a new Challenge, I joined an embroidery group and a Golf Croquet group. Lots of fun to be had. My cat christened my brand new mallet before I even had a game.
Spoke about my art to 3 different groups of people. Their enthusiam about my work gave me courage to begin creating again.
Two of my artworks, were accepted for the Hawkes Bay Review in Napier in June. In October my plaster book, 'Life's Cradle' was awarded first prize in the Association of Books Arts Exhibition in Auckland.
In November my artwork 'Reading between the Lines' was in our local Keirunga Book Arts Exhibition.
I'm recharged and ready for 2018.
What to do next? Something is brewing
Every year we would unearth handmade Christmas decorations from years gone by. These would be hung amongst the branches with much mirth.
Receiving something handmade at Christmas is pretty special. There is the thought, the labour and the creativity that goes into the making. It's treasured forever.
We have a collection in our house. The pottery made by 9 year olds, the carved dogs, a small footstool made by my Dad 80 years ago.
Handmade presents stand the test of time. Not in usability but in the care and attention that went into making a unique handmade gift.
#memories
Does family belong with your art? Have you ever had your family reject your artwork?
Maybe they didn’t understand it? Looking through a different pair of eyes can be objective and produce a different outlook.
I’ve always been lucky with my family and my art. They are encouraging and give praise and even see things from a different perspective.
Recently I took my 92 year old Aunt to see my Artwork in the Keriunga Book Arts Exhibition, ‘Is it a Book?’
‘Reading between the Lines’ took up a whole wall and is the third rather large piece I have created.
It blurs the boundaries of stereotypical male and female images.
There are heads made out of fly fishing hooks, buttons, picture hooks, volume controls and a pastry brush.
The girls clip on to the framework so I was able to take one of the girls off and show my Aunt a small photo of her printed on one of the silk dresses. Generations ago they made things my Grandmother, mother and relations.
I wonder what the next generation will do.
Many New Zealanders travel to London as part of their OE.
My girls made their own trip in a cardboard box to take part in a collaborative exhibition of textile art.
Curated by Alysn Midgelow-Marsden as part of the prestigious Knitting and Stitching Show at Alexandra Palace 16 New Zealand artists joined forces to present 'Art Textiles from Aotearoa' an exhibition of unique concepts with a diverse execution.
My son went and it has to be said in his earlier years he was a bit scathing of some of my artwork. With free tickets and an unknown expectation he contacted me from on the other side of the world. "Mum, I don't think you realise how big this is. There is so much here, so much to see, so many people. I keep racing back to the stand and tell all the people looking at your work, "My Mum did that."
Have I made it yet? In his mind, yes.
The dolls in this exhibition carry the mantle from past generations and offer a glimpse into the next generation. The collection elicits an emotional response through the recognition of the cannibalised parts.
Watch Now
The Construction Techniques
The construction techniques show layering, stitching, crochet and embroidery together with discarded items from our industrial and technological age like washers, doorknobs and volume controls.
Their Personalities
Enjoy their individual personalities and strengths and create your own narrative with each of them.
For the full story, get the book Ladies A Plate
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.
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.
Art
Art for me has become an escape. I used to share it with my late husband but now I have to make the decisions without a sounding board. He was my cheer leader.
I'm managing but slowly. I get keen and then not quite sure if it's finished or not and need that little push to say I've done enough.
I'm working towards an entry for a November book arts exhibition.
I still have about 10 things that need finishing. They call to me and I look at them, handle them and then think, not yet. The beachcomber I've made is waiting for a piece of driftwood to walk on. She also needs her head attached too. Sometimes that's how I feel.
Volunteering
Ageism is a word I don't relate too. I've heard it bandied about but is that for old people. I'm young, surely that word doesn't apply to me.
I have time on my hands and have many skills. I have taught over 500 children to swim, coached netball, taught so many children to read, have had accolades for work I have done, been head hunt d for jobs, I've been noticed for my colour sense but all of a sudden I have become invisible.
When gravity and grey hair show their colours it seems you suddenly have no use. I could still teach all these things for no monetary fee.
I have volunteered at 5 different agencies but I'm not wanted. People just didn't get back to me. Maybe rejection, maybe people are just too busy.
My mother used to say, 'it's a young persons world' and now I know what she meant.
In her diary after she died I found this little quote that she had written. 'The young criticise the old, but the young have never known what it's like to be old.'
Goal setting has always been a thing. I've never set goals but had a list in my head of things to achieve and I prioritised them in a way that suited me on the day.
This year I think I will start my first list of goals to achieve as I now have time to write them down and maybe I will do something for me.
30 squares and 6 panels make up 'Reading between the Lines' with clip on Ladies
