Quilts I like

These were made by members of the Salvage/Selvedge group in Australia, to be auctioned to support a school in Ethiopia.

"Restrained" by Lisa Repsevicius (via)

What a difference that one light line makes! "Out of Sync" by Pat Madden

"Space Invaders" Pat Forster

"Light Rail" by Amanda Forknallt

See others at stargazey.com/salvagecatalogue/

Exercise is good for you?

At the moment, stitching has gone out the window and it's the daily painting project that's holding my interest. It's extremely pleasurable to apply paint to canvas - and to mix it to the right shade and consistency, or what I hope is "right" ... consistency is empirical, but shade is tricky, and often my mind goes blank when trying to figure out what colour to use next. I make a stab at it, or choose at random, and then the "picture" goes off in a new direction. Which is all part of the fun.

Doing this "exercise" is proving to be an eye-opener. So far the canvases haven't had subjects, but I'm starting to want ideas for Real Things To Paint ... and as a result, my photos are going in a new direction. These women sitting in companiable silence, for instance - I like the arrangement of chairs, the dark shapes, the bits of bright colour, the subtle colours ... with a tweak or two in the composition, it could be a "subject"...

Not yet - there are still many brushes to try out, to see how they work in applying the paint, and what kinds of lines they make, and how much paint is needed on the brush. Technical details. I'm keeping it simple, continuing to play. Actually tackling a "subject" seems too complicated. But my eye is taking them in. Certain poems provide possibilities. Or ... why not copy an old master - how "impossible" would that be?

That's one type of exercise ... here's another -

That's for inspiration ... you have to start with the basic stuff. There are plenty of beginners tap videos ...  the simplest move is "toe, toe, heel, heel" (not for nothing is that called Cramp Step!). Follow along with this one and you'll be getting good exercise. How wonderful to have this in a format you can pause and watch again and again till it comes right...

Here's the Nicholas Brothers at an even younger age -

The piece is called Pie Pie Black Bird - something's cooking, all right...

Some years later ...

From the 1941 musical "Sun Valley Serenade" - the other dancer is Dorothy Dandridge.

Poetry Thursday - Wanton Women by Faith Elizabeth Brigham

Wanton Women

wanton women
with wicked ways
want what weary women
wish wouldn't wander
while wed
wondering what webs
weaving wanderers weave
while wooing
wicked wanton women 

Faith Elizabeth Brigham

(via poemhunter.com)


My connection with this poem is that it was one of the "poems in the loo" at the BMJ, a subversive little project ... which my colleagues collected and turned into a very special leaving present. 

Faith Elizabeth Brigham was born in Pittsburgh, PA, in 1953, the third of seven girls - that mere fact is almost enough in itself to turn a gal into a poet. She became a professional writer in 1974, and did her first poetry reading in the early 90s. She has been much published since, and now lives in Florida. Read more of her poems at poemhunter.com/faith-elizabeth-brigham/poems/ or at poetrysoup.com

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Various bibles

An event associated with the Norwich artists book fair was a viewing of the Boleyn Bible, which is held in the collection of Norwich Libraries. It's a Wycliffe bible, an English translation dating to the late 1300s, and was copied (probably by one scribe) in the 15th century. It belonged to Anne Boleyn's uncle - he wrote his name at the top of the page:  “liber Iacobi Boolene manens in Blickling”, translated as “James Boleyn’s book, dwelling in Blickling”. It was given to Norwich Library in 1690.

There's no title page - it goes straight into Genesis. Each book starts with an illuminated page. Rebinding during the 19th century required trimming the pages, for whatever reason, especially at the top.

The bible ends abruptly, in Proverbs, with a mended page -

A bit of used parchment that was lying around at the (re)binder's was used as an end page...

Some of the "pretty bits" that lie in between -

Photographs don't do it justice - any handmade book has an aura (in Walter Benjamin's sense of the word), and a book with as many associations as this, and the turbulent context of being a translation into the vernacular, has a richer aura than most.

In the 1500s there was much controversy about and book-burning of William Tyndale's English translations of the Bible - which could be mass-produced by printing. When Henry VIII split with Rome and became head of the Church of England (and dissolved the monasteries), he decreed in September 1538 that every parish must purchase a copy of an English Bible and place it in ‘some convenient place’ for all to see and read. To meet this demand, the Great Bible, so called because of its size, was put into production, with more than 9,000 copies printed by 1541.

It was Anne Boleyn's marriage to Henry VIII that sparked the changes of the English Reformation (the Pope refused to consent to the king’s divorce from his first queen, Catherine of Aragon). Anne had an English bible in her rooms so that her ladies-in-waiting could read the gospel in their own language.

Both Tyndale and Anne Boleyn met their deaths in 1536, and it seems that Tyndale's last words - "O Lord, open the King of England's eyes" - were fulfilled by Henry's requirement for parish bibles written in English, to be read aloud in church services.

The Great Bible has a woodblock-printed title page - "an unmissable opportunity to communicate a visual message about the new Royal Supremacy to every English parishioner." This coloured version comes from Henry VIII's own copy, now held in the British Library -

It shows the king receiving the Word directly from God. "By tracking the repeating motif of the Verbum Dei (the Word of God), every English man or woman could witness the flow of authority from God to Henry, descending thence to the clergy and to the local parish congregation via Thomas Cranmer Archbishop of Canterbury, on the left, and to the nobility through Thomas Cromwell on the right."

The best-known version of the Bible in English is the King James version, begun in 1604 and completed in 1611, and undertaken by 47 scholars - of which 90% is taken from Tyndale's works and almost a third uses his own words. Listen to three BBC programmes about its history and literary influence here.

Josef Albers

... is known for his work with colour, especially his colour squares, but it's his black-and-white work that's showing on Cork Street, at Waddington Custot Gallery, till 4 June. 

"Nearly 50 selected works testify to Albers's versatility as an artist. Albers's use of black informed his knowledge and understanding of colour. Featuring paintings, works on paper, glass works, photographs and engravings on vinylite, this exhibition promises a fascinating insight into the work of this pioneering colour theorist. "

A longer review is here. "Albers’s appreciation of complex tonal contrasts as a draughtsman, printmaker and photographer would go on to influence his own pupils including Robert Rauschenberg, Cy Twombly and Kenneth Noland. It also informed his ground-breaking and influential book Interaction of Color, Yale, 1963."

Some of his Mexican photos were shown in the recent Mexico show at the Royal Academy - here are more (via) -

Turn the Page artists book fair, Norwich

Tiny shoes and their short stories, by Karen Apps

Revisiting Silent Spring, 50 years after its publication - Chris Ruston

Gwen Simpson's Immemoratae Commemoratae uses single blank pages from old books
to honour the forgotten women of history

"Voyage" was exhibited in Dortmund last year; a boxed version functions as a touring version

Many and various offerings by Camberwell Book Arts students

Jane Glynn's cabinet of miniature books explores memories, stories, and time

 "How knowledge can be gathered and lost" - Unfurling by Jen Fox

Justin Rowe started his book sculptures while working as an academic bookseller

See more in the short video or on the Turn The Page website.

Bank Holiday Weekend diversion

A visit to Kew Gardens, ostensibly to see the rhododendrons ... but it wasn't the rhodos I photographed. We stopped by the Waterlily House to have a look at what was going on there. It's such a magic place, with the reflections of the roof structure on the water as well as the floating leaves and the flowers. Seductive, you might call it. Out comes the camera and suddenly you have another dozen or more photos. This one was taken expressly as a possible subject for my daily painting sessions -

Near the edge of the lake, the greens of the rushes (or whatever) were looking spectacular, with the sunlight from behind -

Also near the lake -

 My only pic of the rhodos -

The bluebells are nearly finished;  this is some other flower - a grand sweep of blue and white towards the river -

How lovely any garden looks in the sunshine, no matter how chilly the wind is! Later it warmed up, and when we got home we were inspired to tackle the task of planting a couple of new roses, a Lady Hillingdon and a Warm Welcome.

What, no Monday Miscellany?

It's a Bank Holiday Monday in the UK, the first of two in May - so here's a quick update to the Dogs in Quilts post from a while back -

Made by the Sewhatevers, shown at Paducah, found here.

Getting started

This was written some time ago, before the 150-hours-of-painting idea hatched itself. (Hoist by my own petard?) It didn't get published because I couldn't find images, but what the heck ... for the record, it's here: a procrastinator-recidivist talking to herself...

We can almost talk ourselves out of starting, can't we? Yet by using different words we might be able to talk ourselves in to starting...

For instance, if your fear is that you won't finish every project you start - don't call them projects, call them explorations. An "exploration" can be finished at any point!

We want "it" to turn out according to our vision, and know it won't - maybe there's something overlooked in the planning, maybe we run out of one of the materials, maybe the technique we're using isn't one we've practised enough. 

But sometimes it does all flow smoothly, it goes together "perfectly" ... and when it's done, we look back and are glad we dared to start.

Even if it doesn't go exactly as planned or hoped, there is value in carrying on, taking it to the end - you'll no longer be afraid to ruin it - it's ruined already, right? - so you will be braver and try things just for the heck of it. Who knows what might happen? 

At the point of despair, when the project becomes an exploration, you realize it looks different from the projected outcome. This is when the fun starts, because you have no choice but to "act like an artist" - interacting with the work, rather than forcing it down the path you had decided. It didn't want to go there, so you can stop and look at this stubborn thing and ask what it needs. It may give you a choice - don't let that stop you, just do something ... then ask the work if it wants more of that, or if it wants something else. At some point, you (and it) will decide it's finished and can be sent on its way alone.

It takes on a life of its own for you, the maker. Even if it's being so stubborn that you're still dissatisfied at the end of the day, and chuck it in the bin, take a moment to reflect on where, and perhaps why, it went wrong ... how will we improve if we don't learn from our mistakes?

The big problem is when fear of starting means you've left the starting too late, and anything going wrong is fatal. This is where a little forethought, a little self-brainwashing, is useful - "I'll just try this first thing on a piece of cloth that happens to be just what I might be using for the final project" or "I'll make four squares as samples and check how they'll fit together".

When makers feel the materials under their fingers, something kicks in and creative things start to happen. While our hands are working, it all moves along. The work speaks to us through our fingertips. This is why simply refolding your fabrics is one way to get started on a quilt, why writing the date on a page is a way to get started on a diary entry or a poem, why choosing a special sheet of paper and sharpening your pencils is a way to get started on a drawing.

Which brings us to the usefulness of starting rituals. Stepping over the threshold of the studio, or sitting down at the desk, how do you know you're ready to start work? This may depend on your history of starting work - your past success rate - which might by now be tied to some small, almost superstitious bit of behaviour - having the favourite coffee cup in hand, or tidying the desk to look "just so", or spending 15 minutes looking at an inspirational book or checking your studio log or sketchbook. Some people have ongoing "mindless" projects, stitching or a small observational drawing perhaps, that get their hands involved with their materials.

... and now [early April] I have this crazy idea of getting comfortable with paint. The paints, the canvas, the brushes and palette knives, even a few prompts for those blank moments, are to hand. The starting ritual is easy: set the timer for 30 minutes,  squeeze out paints, pick up a brush, GO. It's an exploration ... to be added to, changed, painted over, the same day or the next session. In between: a digital archive, a record of the process.

And just to mention the importance of stopping. PING goes the timer ... finish what you're doing - or leave it midway, to be easier to pick up again next day. Then the clearing up  and cleaning of brushes, the re-organisation of the work space. Making it pleasant to get back to next time.

Daily painting - the wrinkly one

It was all vaguely colouristic and then returned to white and was sanded down and some blobs added... then it got a bit landscapey and at the moment it's trying to go back to those washes of colour. "What" to paint next??

Some close-ups -

Graphoguide alphabetique

"Methode Jean-Pierre Bonne" - a model for French handwriting. Imagine it used for couching...

I wanted to use these letter forms on a kitchen hand-towel - but couching didn't seem the way to go, because of what happens on the back, loose ends of the thick thread taken through, very untidy.

First, though, adjusting the size to fit the space available. (The alternative was to spend time learning how to do the script, but I'm a coward when it comes to calligraphy.) I made little images of separate letters, cropping the original image, and then lined them up in InDesign -and

printed out jpegs of the words at different sizes till it seemed to fit the space -

Next, the embroidery ... one towel blue and another red ... but how to transfer the lettering? "Do the easiest thing" seems sensible - so I traced the letters onto some some fusible tear-away stabilizer and ironed on the front, then tore it away once the embroidery was done -

A note of caution - on the loopy fabric, the stabilizer must be removed Very Carefully, or the loops pull out. For the second towel, I applied it with light touches of the iron here and there - a much better result on removal.

Poetry Thursday - The Ice Cart by Wilfrid Gibson

"Polar Night" by Sylvia Whitehouse, based on "The Ice Cart"

The Ice-Cart

 Perched on my city office-stool,
 I watched with envy, while a cool
 And lucky carter handled ice. . . .
 And I was wandering in a trice,
 Far from the grey and grimy heat
 Of that intolerable street,
 O'er a sapphire berg and emerald floe,
 Beneath the still, cold ruby glow
 Of everlasting Polar night,
 Bewildered by the queer half-light,
 Until I stumbled, unawares,
 Upon a creek where big white bears
 Plunged headlong down with flourished heels
 And floundered after shining seals
 Through shivering seas of blinding blue.
 And as I watched them, ere I knew,
 I'd stripped, and I was swimming too,
 Among the seal-pack, young and hale,
 And thrusting on with threshing tail,
 With twist and twirl and sudden leap
 Through crackling ice and salty deep --
 Diving and doubling with my kind,
 Until, at last, we left behind
 Those big, white, blundering bulks of death,
 And lay, at length, with panting breath
 Upon a far untravelled floe,
 Beneath a gentle drift of snow --
 Snow drifting gently, fine and white,
 Out of the endless Polar night,
 Falling and falling evermore
 Upon that far untravelled shore,
 Till I was buried fathoms deep
 Beneath the cold white drifting sleep --
 Sleep drifting deep,
 Deep drifting sleep. . . .

 The carter cracked a sudden whip:
 I clutched my stool with startled grip.
 Awakening to the grimy heat
 Of that intolerable street.

-- Wilfred Gibson
Wilfrid Gibson (1878-1962) is a British poet who drew inspiration from the lives of ordinary provincial  families, particularly the poverty of industrial workers and farm labours. First published in 1897, he left his native Hexham after his mother died and spent time in London from 1912, co-founding a short-lived "Georgian" poetry magazine, New Numbers. He was a friend of Rupert Brooke and later one of his executors.  During WWI Gibson was in the army (managing to join the fourth time he applied) but never left England. By the end of the war his reputation was in decline, eclipsed by the Ezra Pound/TS Eliot school of "Modern" poets. Later he lived in Gloucestershire, continuing to publish a book every three or four years and going on reading and lecture tours.

"plunged headlong ... through shivering seas of shining blue"

"the grimy heat / of that intolerable street"

Sylvia Whitehouse is an artist living and working in north London and exhibiting regularly in London and elsewhere.