Quinary welcomes Marian Murphy and Monika Häußler-Göschl as new members who joined the group in the spring. Marian and Monika will be posting on the blog very soon so that you can see how exciting their work is and how it will enhance the work of the other members of Quinary
My work is driven by personal experiences, feelings and the subconscious. The vessel as a female symbol for holding and giving up was used often and appears in the presentation in various outcomes.
The knowledge, that emotions from former generations are given to the next by the subconscious, was the starting point for my BA work.
“Flying Family Tree”
paper, stitched with cotton thread, free hanging by fishing line
2012, London, England
The bowl form reappeared in my MA work. By using transparent paper to wrap a basket in the diameter of 1.60 meter, I tried to present my childhood feelings in my home nest. In addition, photos and a video loop were presented.
“Nest that doesn’t cradel”
transparent folie, cotton yarn, photos, video
2017, Barnsley, England
During the last years I worked through different themes relating to the 20th century German history and so they relate to my personal family history.
In the group exhibition “Mend”, shown in the Coventry Cathedral and the Nail Cross Christus Church in Karlsruhe, I tried to work to the different destroyed Cathedrals and churches in England and Germany. The use of medicine material and the red colour provide the link to the hurting of both sides.
“Reconciliation yesterday and today….into a hopefully better future”
card board, different threads, red acrylic paint, photo, gauze bandage, wire, nails, silk
2018; Coventry Cathedral England; Christuskirche Karlsruhe, protestation Church Herxheim, Germany
The knitted “Hidden Spaces” (online quinary12 exhibition) were constructed without a plan and very spontaneous. All have different openings and indentations.
Beside photos of the presentation in the landscape snapshots were taken from the inside of the containers.
As well a series of photos of the used threads, laying under a microscope, present the material in another context and transform the material into a meditative moon like outcome.
After a colour painting online workshop, I could restart with the intuitive use of self-dyed fabric and over a long time collected, different yarns. The use of colour is back. It feels very good and satisfies my inner self.
During the first step huge textile colour fields laid on the floor, then some of them were stitched by hand to a bigger piece of cloth and afterwards I started to stitch intuitively into.
The backside was the one I preferred and so it was arranged in a 3 D piece. Photos and close ups were taken and printed onto transparent silk.
left: frontside – right: backside
It is my inner space which is visible – without the covering of old experiences. The personal essence gets space in colours and folds. Catherine Dormor´s last book “A Philosophy of Textile: Between Practice and Theory” and the philosopher Gilles Deleuze will give me insights from a theoretical point of view.
I can sit and watch endless into the hidden spaces, reflect about the nonvisible parts. These spaces will provide next steps to work on. Going bigger or very small? We will see.
I thought I would write a blog post about spinning and weaving as this is what I seem to be doing most of at the moment.
I taught myself to spin about three years ago now with the help of a beautiful turkish spindle gifted to me by my sister and brother in law for my birthday. When researching how to spin I loved the shape of the Turkish spindles and waited for a long time for mine to be made by hand by a wonderful maker. It spins as if it’s dancing with the beautiful tiny brass weights helping to keep the spindle balanced. I was also gifted a beautiful purple 3d printed one at the same time so I had plenty to work with. It took a while to learn to spin on these and many hours of watching YouTube; it took even longer to make the yarn I wanted to work with and to even know what I wanted or how I was going to use it. I also need to know what kind of a spinner I wanted to be. Not a lumpy one which is what I was getting at this time
In 2020 the world went into lockdown and I remembered that I had a spinning wheel in my loft that had virtually never been used. I had bought it 25 years ago but after having a class on how to use it I don’t think I ever used it again. Was this a lockdown project?
My daughter retrieved it from the loft and I soon realised that parts of it were missing and parts were perished and broken; this wheel is not made any more so I needed to see if I could repair it. I found a small company (Weft Blown) that did replacement parts for a later wheel and they found out that I could use some of the later parts to repair my old wheel. I needed the help of the family again and my brother-in-law repaired the wheel for me.
Now I needed to learn how to spin again.
This was a challenge, not knowing and not evening knowing what I needed to know was indeed frustrating. I didn’t know what I didn’t know, not a great place to be. I had many hours of trying, parts of the wheel flying across the floor, bobbins and the drive band coming off all at once and if I could get anything going, the result was the lumpiest yarn ever and the tension band was a complete unknown. Not knowing how these things worked together didn’t help. At this point there was no chance of finding out what yarn I wanted or what type of spinner I wanted to be. Eventually progress happened and I could spin and understand what was happening and what relationships were made between maker and materials with the equipment helping along. I still have much to learn but that’s the exciting part.
I love that I can spin on my old wheel but I always return to my spindles; they connect me to the earth through the materials and to early cultures that spun in this way and I am a much better spinner on my spindles. It’s a slow way of working but one that suits me.I still have a lot to learn about hand spinning but look forward to the challenges it brings. After a lot of research I have purchased a Tibetan support spindle that you spin using a small bowl for support and so the learning goes on.
My first weavings were on a tapestry frame loom and I often return to this for a particular way of working because of the simplicity of methodology and equipment. For inspiration I looked to abstract weavers, I knew that I didn’t want to be a pictorial weaver so I looked towards Jilly Edwards, Fiona Hutchinson and others.
When I finished my PhD I promised myself that I would learn to weave, so in February 2020 I was gifted by my family a day of learning to weave on a rigid heddle loom for my birthday at the Handweavers Studio in London.
This was an exciting day and of course I came home with a loom. As my background is in creative hand stitching, I naturally broke the rules of weaving as soon as I started and when the teacher asked if I wanted all the ends cut off and I said no, then she was sure to just let me do what I wanted instead of the scarf everyone else was making, which was great. I came home with a piece of cloth that I had created myself, I found this hugely exciting.
I began by weaving small pieces and then progressed to four meter pieces but still only a narrow width but this was fine as I could experiment freely. I looked at the American idea of ‘art weaving’ and came to the conclusion it was too ‘lumpy’ for me but do enjoy some aspects of Saori weaving. Like learning anything I have to find out what I want my work to be and the only way to do that was to ‘make’ the work.
I seem to have found a place I want to be with the weaving for now and am concentrating on explorations between materials and process with a foray into some colour
I have bought a larger loom that was delivered in the last few days, this awaits the warping up which I love. It looks a little scary to me as really I only make small pieces usually. A friend has caused me to question why I want to make bigger pieces.
We should always be questioning but also be satisfied with where we are ‘now’ with the work – so I spin and weave on.
Madame Defarge in ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ by Charles Dickens knitted into her work the names of those to be executed when the revolution began. Although this is fiction, knitting was used as a means of passing on information during the American War of Independence and both World Wars. With a series of knots, dropped stitches and pattern changes knowledge of train and troop movements was gathered and passed on
Are patterns codes?
I began to look at patterns of Ganseys worn by fishermen along the east coast of England and Scotland, also in Devon and Cornwall.
These are Gansey patterns from Whitby, Sheringham and Polperro
These Gansey patterns are all associated with place and people within this place. The code for these is the identification, both emotionally and physically, of people and place.
Can colour be a code?
Red is a colour associated with power, orange with potential danger (as in traffic lights), purple was the symbolic colour of opulence and royalty, yellow the Chinese symbol of the Emperor’s family,
Naturally dyed yarns using leaves, flowers and berries from my garden and gathered on walks around my home town during lock down last year. I used wool from Wensleydale and Cotswold sheep, also Alpaca from Somerset.
I am using the ides of pattern and colour as codes to knit a piece of work for exhibition next year.
This work is about the seasons of the year and the emotions which are evoked by them, with colour and pattern as a code for the seasons.
This is work in progress!!
Looking for inspiration and patterns…… Caroline Hibbs
Someone once said to me that looking for inspiration is like wading in mud. My first thought was ‘what a ridiculous thought;’ but after pondering over it I realised …. that is exactly what it is. During this time of Covid 19 it has been difficult to think of anything else with every media platform full of it and rightly so but it does get in the way of any other thoughts. Keeping to the government guidelines at all times this household has been going for long walks, from our doorstep, on the South Downs, and my word we have really waded in a lot of mud.
The photo shows the river bank of the Sussex Ouse … on the right the river and on the left a flooded field, the river water had to have somewhere to go! The mud does tend to force you to look down at your feet and where you are putting them! But …. force yourself to look up … and immediately you will see beautiful patterns everywhere. The sky .… its light, the clouds and the colours forever changing. The trees in winter enticing us to think of spring with the buds quietly waiting for their moment to flourish, even when they are covered in haw frost.
I constantly find I am looking for patterns wherever I go, the ancient church in a tiny East Sussex village and the other end of the scale the rusty detritus in a farm yard. The sun rising and peeping over the downs or looking out to sea to the horizon as the sun slowly appears. There are patterns wherever you look if you have the time to gaze.
Artists have painted the South Downs for many years and the artist Eric Revillous famously painted the Downs in East Sussex, the open fields, pathways, fields, pasture and the Cliffs looking down to Beachy Head lighthouse to name a few. His work is full of patterns and if we take time we will see them too. So never mind the mud, put on your boots and just go and be inspired.
I am reminded of the poem ‘Leisure’ by W H Davies …
What is this life if full of care, We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care. We have no time to stand and stare.
Online Exhibition Caroline Hibbs, Jean Kirk, Kay Swancutt, Marilyn Hall, Monika Brueckner
Caroline Hibbs ‘Marks we leave behind’
My work was inspired by the marks we leave behind that perhaps we shouldn’t.
Hand stitch, cotton cloth and thread, 100 x 80 cms
Look carefully and-
See patterns all around you.
Beautiful or not
Marks are everywhere
In spray paint, scratched or gouged.
On walls, doors and trees
Love tokens on trees
Cave paintings there to thrill for-
millions of years
All left by …. humans
Marks are Here:Now and Were:Then
And will always be.
Jean Kirk ´Being in the moment´
This work is about being present in the moment, fully aware of life as it is now.
The main body of work consists of a number of ten centimetre squares, knitted in four ply wool and coloured with natural dyes. Garter stitch forms the background, small stocking stitch squares, embedded within, speak about being present ‘in the moment’.
The second piece is a three metre strip knitted in four ply natural wool. Differing needle sizes vary the tension; the moment we have may change, but we should always be aware of it.
Kay Swancutt Woven : Time
This work is about time; time taken, time being, time valued, time spent and time validated.
The time taken to choose the materials, slowly selecting the warp, warping up and winding the shuttles. Importantly being present when the weaving is taking place.
Weaving is a meditative time and the relationship between the materials, process and me is a closely guarded time.
The piece is a visual record of the experience and the quiet simple work is the reality of the experience that talks about the flow that occurs when in the present moment.
Marilyn Hall Locked in: A moment in time
This work holds a moment in time. A memory. A walk along a beach;
items I collected became my inspiration and shells and pebbles suggested a colour palate.
Natural dyes obtained from my garden were used to dye pieces of repurposed cloth. Randomly selected and stitched into patches they hold the memory of the walk and the quiet, reflective time spent stitching.
Ceramics imprinted with the patches and shaped over the pebbles make ‘vessels of memory’ which become a permanent recollection of time and place.
This work acts as metaphor for footsteps taken along my creative journey.
Monika Brueckner Here : Now
The human body is a kind of vessel
storing and giving up – there are secretions and secrets, several openings in the light or in the unknown dark; inside the container are more and more smaller spaces – folded, structured and colored, an exciting unknown place – an existence. We are here.
The inside opens up new exiting views. Unknown spaces metamorphose into a magical world by looking through a microscope. The unfamiliar can be uncanny and blurred and at the same time fascinating.
Our body is the home of our soul and this has as well aspects which we hide, don’t want to look at but also loved and positive ones. What we show depends on the now, the moment.
The River Avon – Shakespeare’s Avon – runs through our village. Shallow and wide, it provided an easy crossing here, one of only two between Warwick and Stratford. The river rises up near Naseby, flows for 85 miles to its confluence with the Severn near Tewkesbury.
Most mornings before breakfast I take a walk through the village to the river. It is constant but ever changing as the varying weather transforms the river.
The waters rise and fall, flooding the water meadows in spells of wet weather. It brings debris which becomes stranded on the banks, small islands and overhanging branches. Much of the debris is natural material – logs, branches, grasses, leaves. But occasionally refuse becomes caught up – an old pallet, a sofa, plastic bottles.
I wonder how a sofa has found its way to the island by our bridge. It will wait there until the next big flood when the rushing waters will collect it and take it on the next leg of its journey. One day when it arrives in Stratford it will be removed before the sight of it offends the tourists.
There is wildlife on the river, I stop and wait quietly and see what each morning brings.
Mallards are resident along the river, swans often raise a brood of cygnets here, the heron – very, very shy – is usually seen standing fishing, and if we are really lucky a kingfisher or two might make an appearance. A streak of iridescent turquoise dashing past just above the water level. This week there was a small, white egret which is a first.
In the bushes and trees along the bank can be seen all kinds of birds including warblers, tits and once a little goldcrest.
On one of my walks a few weeks ago I noticed an old, rusty fence post lying by the bridge.
It lay there for a couple of days tempting me. How did it get there? It certainly hadn’t floated on the river but there it was, stranded .
The temptation was too great, I carried it home all the while wondering where it had come from, which field it has been in, how old was it, who had made it?
It is all too easy to forget the person who made an old discarded item, who used it, who maintained it. I want to pay tribute to those people by embedding the memory of the post in cloth.
I have a cotton scarf that has been in my store for a while. Strips can be wound round the post and left to see what marks appear.
I want to stitch into the lengths of cloth with a yarn whose colour is sympathetic to those of the cloth. With this in mind I have decided to wrap some fine linen yarn around the post so that it will take on a similar colour palette.
Now that I have some cloth and yarn that have taken their colour from the post I can begin to work with it. I will post some further images as the work progresses.
I have just put away my natural dyeing work for a few winter months. These are some of the colours which resulted from my experiments during the Autumn; I hope this work will be the basis for a new exhibition in 2020.