Leaving 2010

David Hockney: The First Love Painting 1960

The comfort of the familiar, the delight of the anticipated, and the joy of the unexpected: that was the experience yesterday on probably my last outing in 2010. We went through murk and fog to get to our 'local' sculpture gallery, The New Art Centre, set in farmland with lovely long views towards Salisbury and points South (except in the fog!).

It was our habit to visit this inspiring island of calm on the Saturday before Christmas every year. We had to shift the visit to a Wednesday, but I was keen that we not miss the trip because I really wanted to see the displays in the Artist's House. Not only do I love the venue, but at present there are two of my favourite artists showing: Edmund de Waal and Anthony Caro.

Both are artists who do not stand still. We were intrigued by the principle work by de Waal: Night Work. This consists of seven vitrines containing groups of ceramic vessels, but with the view somewhat obscured by barely translucent glass. At first I thought that it was condensation because of the foggy conditions outdoors! But no, it is a device to intrigue, to stretch our sight into our imagination. I must admit that my husband enjoyed this more than I did; I like the idea, but only temporarily. My own particular favourite is the current sculpture of the month: Things to think with #3 which is designed to be arranged as the whim takes. And there is so much else of his which I very much enjoy, and which sets off so much thinking.

This is always true of Anthony Caro's work too, and in this case as well as the impressive sculpture outside there are examples of his sculpture to wear indoors. I am always struck when I see Caro's work how the balance between the material and its negative spaces set off positive emotion to get my imagination going. I think that the de Waal relationships of ceramic vessels in groups does the same thing.

In the gallery there is an exhibition by Camilla Low, an artist of whom I had not previously heard. Her pieces are delightful. As soon as I saw the display the words which popped into my head were 'Brevity is the soul of wit'. They are very human in their scale, and how I would love to encounter a group such as this on the railway platform, or by a bus stop.

Another artist whose work delights me is Christopher le Brun. And of course a constant favourite is Barbara Hepworth - I found myself coveting a small piece entitled Three Forms (Extra Eye).

And I was also filled with joy on catching sight of a painting as we entered the Artist's House. Its colours matched the day: the limited palette of the season, and was yet so initially breath-catchingly uplifting. I did not have my glasses on, and so was having difficulty tracking it down on the list of works - but my socks-blown-off feeling was confirmed: an early Hockney as shown at the top of this post.

That sense of uplift is still there as I close my eyes and remember the work. This year has had so many deep pit lows for me, often plunging from heights, ... and yet those heights are what are memorable and carry me through positively to the undoubted delights of the year to come.

Thank you to all who have sent me good wishes. I hope all reading have a Happy Hogmanay, and that 2011 brings what you really wish for.

Countdown to the top of the year

Christmas Eve is the day when we bring in the greenery, put up the cards which have been accumulating in a pile, and decorate the tree. This marks the beginning of our two weeks of guilt free hibernation, consisting largely of reading.

The first week tends to be pure self-indulgence for me: immersing myself in a book which I have usually just received as a present. This takes me up to the top of the year, and then the second week slides me gently back down to the beginning of the year to come.

Peace is the most important ingredient. I wish peace in whatever form needed - for you all.

Just delight

My Surface design magazine comes to me straight from the printer in Hong Kong, and usually arrives in an envelope absolutely covered in stamps. It is a most welcome sight on my doormat. One issue arrived with a glorious garden of printed flowers and coloured stamps with which I simply had to do something. I scanned the bright mixture.

My back burner supplied a doodle I'd done many years ago during a meeting somewhere - and which I'd enjoyed enough to preserve. And Eureka! I had a design which gave me delight, just as the arrival of that envelope had done.

And it seems appropriate to be stitching this as a warm and jolly quilt during this especially chill Christmas.

Disposing of unwanted stuff - or starting a whole new chapter?

Reading Idaho Beauty's blog recently reminded me of an as yet unfinished exercise which was lurking in my sewing room. Several months ago my duodidactic friend and I set ourselves a task of using up all the stuff that we would realistically never use again in our work. In my case this was mostly fabric paint, as well as bits an pieces left over from my foray into knitwear design. Of course I barely touched the tip of the iceberg - but I did get rid of the paints.

And the result was worth pinning on the board so that it was visibly on the back burner. In the meantime my mother had her stroke, and I did not give my experiment much further thought. Until Sheila's post pointing me once again to the visual strips.


I used strips in two main ways in this piece: I made vertical slits in one piece of painted fabric, and 'wove' the thread figures in and out. Also, separate painted strips were stitched on vertically, down their middles, and then folded over - I caught them with the simple diagonal quilting stitch across the whole. I like the way that the dancers appear to be in shadows.

The figures were made by machine stitching on soluble film. I used to do that quite a lot a few years ago, and put it to one side when I discovered digital printing and the quilt form.

These buttons were made for a rather extravagant knit design of mine in a mohair mix: a deep waist with buttons down each side. It came in three colourways: black and grey, blue and green, and pink and cerise. I chose the black/grey for this rather than the pink buttons.

The threads are linen, from a sample card. They are only 10cm long, but have a lovely random twist with the ply coming apart in some. I found that they added to the mild 3D effect and to the shadow theme.

After all this time I still like the effects, and although I'm not keen on investing once again in fabric paints or dyes, I am inclined to think further about how I might develop other aspects of the work.

An excellent present

I like to finish my Christmas present books before the next Christmas comes along, and so it was with relief that I closed Laura Cumming's A face to the world this afternoon. But with sadness too, because this has been an excellent read.

This book has been one of those which plunges the reader into its world immediately, is totally absorbing, and yet is divided into chapters which can be read independently. Those 15 chapters have delighted me over 12 months, evoking thoughts well beyond the narrow path of self portaiture, and even of art.

There are reviews here, and here, and here. It is a book I look forward to reading again in a few years time, and in the meantime I shall never look at a self portrait again without pausing for thought.

In Winter

Stretch (design in progress)

In Winter my memories are drawn back to folk tales. I cannot remember ever having had anthologies as a child, nor of being told stories; but as soon as I could read and had a library card I was attracted by tall tales. I never liked Pantomime, and always hated being at a circus; but somehow being at a safe distance beyond the book, reading about Carnival folk was always intriguing. I forget the author and the title, but I do not forget the American short story I read when young telling me that in a travelling show a Geek was someone who bit off the heads of live chickens!

Many years ago I was in charge of a teenage fiction list, and had great pleasure in publishing short story collections which raised the hairs on my neck. I collected anthologies of folk tales, and sought the tales themselves out when I worked on far continents. I later even put a collection together myself, but I had a bad experience with editor and their choice of illustrator (I do like to be in charge!).

Dark enigma still stalks my imagination, and now that Winter's here, ....

Turn, turn, turn

I am so pleased that the UK has reverted to having a proper winter again with cold and snow. There is so much extra precious light on winter days when there is a covering of snow - and the sounds are muffled to give a delightful enveloping of calm and quiet.

I enjoyed finding this abstract composition - I was curious to know what had made the largest indent. Perhaps a fluffed up bird, not quite so happy as I to see the snow. I was delighted to see a jay fly up to the bird table this morning to partake of some peanuts.

I do enjoy the cold even if I lose a pot or two - they are recycled as crocks, and in any case, I think that the primroses in this one will probably survive.

I just pointed and snapped in the garden this lunchtime, conscious that in a couple of days it will probably melt and the magic will have gone.

Strange relationship

I am interested in the dancing figure. I often doodle figures which are dancing expressively, or which are being acrobatic in some way. I find that scale of expressiveness fascinating: the acrobats so technical, as in gymnastic athletes testing the extremes of their movement and strength, while dancers use that technical skill to convey emotion, beauty. And I find that the use of such figures helps me to express what I am experiencing or thinking about.

These figures are like characters in a novel, and as with some novelists, those characters appear to have control beyond my deliberation - which could be described as a will of their own. Not long ago I read a fascinating novel by Karen Fossum, who usually writes detective stories. Broken, however, is outside that genre and concerns the will of a character outside, beyond, behind, ... the conscious decision making of the author.

As someone who is driven by a need to be in control of what I do, I'm puzzled by my creative ability to work from my subconscious into the conscious, but not the other way round. I have so far found it almost impossible to impose a design on myself. Conscious trying takes me further from success, and so I would be useless at commissions - or at least in any consistent way. Generally I play, I doodle, and add to my back burner. Then the right elements come together, sparked by some vital link - which was not sought, or even known as such before the event.

At the top of this post is the design I've entitled Through the moon. It has elements familiar in my work, but although I was happy enough to name it (as it seems obvious) I became more uneasy with the design itself. To unravel this time is usually needed. I need to come across sight of it without deliberate thought. Others liked it, which is encouraging, but I have to be the final arbiter, and I was uneasy.

Then while I was wandering round Tate Britain on Sunday morning, admiring the sculpture in the permanent collection, it came to me that in fact Through the moon was describing my state: a kind of desperate dance in a lunatic personal situation. I feel myself to be two, trying to reconcile being at the edge of emotional capability with the practicalities of my particular domestic situation. Thus enlightened, I am becoming more satisfied with the design as a whole, and will proceed to make the fine adjustments necessary before it is finally ready for stitched work.

And for my next conundrum: I have come up with three related designs - a triptych? - which arrived without much warning, and as yet I'm not sure how stitching will contribute to them. This does happen from time to time, and I have a file entitled limbo, which were it a cupboard would spill out whenever the door was opened.