in place

Last month I quite suddenly found myself sliding down a slippery slope...from a year filled with workshops and exhibitions to... nix.

Thanks to the invisible scourge (our planet doing a bit of housekeeping) I now have a small fortune in flight credits (that I suspect may never be used) and all the time in the whirled to spend with my grand-daughter.

I'm very lucky that my self-isolation takes place on 500 acres ( "don't fence me in" was always my theme song ) and also that I quite like a solitary lifetstyle (I've spent nearly thirty years as a sole parent). I know others are not quite so fortunate, so I created an online gathering I have called "in place", that offers small daily classes, readings and prompts to help people get through the days of isolation.

"in place" began as a 23 day course, but has now been extended for as long as we endure the Great Pause. Together we are sailing our armchairs around the village well.

I've committed to keep posting a little something every day. Participants are stitching on used tea-towels to create work for what was intended as an online exhibition but has also now blossomed into an actual exhibition to be held at Fabrik Arts + Heritage, in the old Onkaparinga Woollen Mill complex at Lobethal in South Australia some time next year.

We have been drawing, stitching, writing.
Presently we are dabbling in a little indigo.
We are also making a small film together (clips are coming in from all over the whirled).

There's still time to join us if you like...the Great Pause doesn't look like finishing any time soon.

For an investment of $353 Australian dollars (or you can choose a 3 to 6 month payment plan) you'll have lifetime access to the course. The Aussie shekel is at an all time low at present (last time I looked it was worth 60 US cents) and so far 24 dailies have been uploaded.

I'll keep going until the Great Pause is over (meaning we can all go dance in the streets again) or the Beast knocks me off my feet. I hope it doesn't...I very much like the idea of continuing to sail my armchair (dog willing and with a fair wind).

Want to know more?  this link will take you there.  

wandercards

goodness me.

I blinked, and now it is November.

It's been another extraordinary year.

I've had exhibitions in New Orleans, Scotland and England.

Taught in Canada, Scotland and France,

and taught myself a lot about small-scale

film-making for my online school.

The weather is still

awfully dry here in South Australia

in fact

the dams look a bit like that

lovely rusted image above.

I found a pile of dried eucalyptus leaves

in a garden in Mexico

which was a brilliant excuse

to acquire this lovely blue enamel pot.

It's beautifully light and fits

nicely into my suitcase.

The River Tay welcomed me back

(or so I like to think), and several

happy hours were spent filming

bundles drifting on the tide.

Now I'm home a while,

happily dancing with indigo,

teaching myself as much as

I can about that particular magic,

while also working on new projects

for the

School of Nomad Arts.

One of which has been released today.

Some years ago I published a very limited edition

of 'wandercards',

inspirational cards devised to offer ideas for

the exploration of the poetics of place.

There were rather a lot of enquiries about

a reprint, but in the interests of sustainability

I thought it best to make the texts available

online (saving the costs of printing and

mailing) so that people could make their

own unique sets, using repurposed materials

if they wished.

You'll find them here

gardens of the heart and a free class

what a month it's been ... unpacking and documenting the lovingly stitched contributions to Gardens of the Heart, putting the pieces together with the help of lovely volunteers and installing the exhibition at Fabrik Arts + Heritage has taken up much of my time. I'm so grateful to the h.ART group and to the new Director at Fabrik, Melinda Rankin for unstinting and generous support.

here's a wee video to give you more of an idea of how it turned out. If you live in South Australia you have until March 17 to see the show for yourself. I keep expecting Oberon and Titania to step out of the shadows.

I've also made a free class for you at the School of Nomad Arts :: 'laundering leaf prints'.
so many people write to me asking how best to wash their naturally dyed and printed textiles that I thought I'd save myself a bit of email-answering time by offering some instructions.

you'll find a link to it here

dear Martine

dear Martine

sorry for the slow reply ... I have tried several times to reply to your kind comment on the previous post, and Blogger simply would not publish. My fingers were crossed that it would work today, because it's nice to be able to engage in conversation, I think. But Blogger refused.

What I wanted to say was that I'm glad you're still here, and that I love "bumping into you" in Europe from time to time!

And I'm so grateful for your support of my work :: it must be about ten years that we have had a connection of some kind ?

That's what I have come to realise about my work...Yes, it's about sharing the printing of leaves on to cloth and paper, and writing poetry and listening to the whirled but it's much more than that. It's about creating community.
And what is really going on, when we gather around a cauldron and make bundles, or sit around a big table and stitch; is that we are (like in old times) gathering around a village well.
There is talk, there is caring for each other. It's not just what I teach but what each person shares, too.

Which brings me to my big news.
I have so enjoyed creating classes for my online school that I have decided to create an annual version of one of my favourite workshops, 'being(t)here', that I have taught all around the whirled but which has been a little different in each version, depending on the place and the time of year, and on what I have been thinking about deeply.

The first online edition will run from March to December 2019, with eleven instalments each delivered on a new moon. It's a huge project and I'm slightly terrified and utterly elated at the same time. But that is what makes life exciting and worth living. It's splendid to have things that are really worth getting out of bed for (in addition to my delightful granddaughter and my loyal hound).

On that note, I wish you a lovely and peaceful Christmas (or any other gentle festivity you might indulge in) and Joy and happiness for the New Year.

lots of love

India

PS if your name isn't Martine and you've read this far I still wish you happiness and health and all good things for the coming year, and thank you for reading my words.

PPS Blogger has now decided it won't publish my comments on other blogs, either. Which is kinda sad, because there are a number that I do read, and it's good to leave a calling card. Guess Blogger has decided to place limits on my screen time. Good thing they aren't hosting my online classes!!!

dear 1393 (the annual report)

the glorious view over the heathlands, from Mount Chudalup

one of the remarkable wildflowers in South West
Western Australia

to the 1393 folks who've stuck by this blog over the years.
a little over ten years, as it happens.

thank you for hanging in there.

this calendar year has been a particularly full one. I've taught five times in Australia, twice in Scotland and Canada,
once in New Zealand and once in France. that's eleven workshops. seven of them were a week (as in 5 days) long, three were three days, one was a mere seven hours and one ran over two weeks.

a string-and-bundle installation
created for the sculpture park
'understory' by the participants of
the retreat to Northcliffe, WA,
in October

I made paper by hand during a brief residency at Richard de Bas papermill in France and spent time in New Orleans, dreaming up new work and collaborating with musician John Fohl.

I built a new website at a new address, and then bought back my old domain name from my former host so as not to lose all the goodwill that it had built up over the past ten years
and
somewhere in between I took a big swig from a cup of courage and
having previously resisted offers from others (the kind that read "come to our studio across the seas at your own expense, let us film you doing tricks and then we'll give you 5% of the profits") launched the School of Nomad Arts, which is giving me much delight.

I had no idea it would be so satisfying to make wee movies and create online classes.
now I know.

I'm writing this post from the beautiful gardens at Inverewe in Scotland, where I am spending the last week of November, dyeing with windfall leaves, preparing for an exhibition in their Sawyer Gallery (next June) and dreaming up more classes for my school.

unsurprisingly, the mirror tells me I'm looking a tad frayed.

it may be time for a wee rest.
time to go home, cuddle that gorgeous grandbaby and go wandering with my dog.

but it's been a fabulous year.

the week at Northcliffe, during which we spent all day each day outside in sunshine and in rain was absolutely glorious. we made a field trip to Mount Chudalup, and created an installation for 'understory', the local sculpture park. people worked on their laps or on the grass, stitching dyed pieces into a 'wayfarer's comforter', a big soft cloth to keep them safe and warm on their travels.

local colour at Northcliffe

a mere two days at home to repack my bags, and I was off to Scotland to begin a three-and-a-bit-week road-and-ferry trip with  Alison Mountain (half of the team of two that make up Big Cat Textiles) . the plan was that Alison would cook for the first retreat (at Ardtornish Estate, near Lochaline) and I would captain the sailboat, and after that we would co-present a retreat on Orkney...meaning we would take turns at cooking and at telling stories. (we are nothing, if not optimistic)

the lovely people at Ardtornish were so chuffed to have us, that we are already confirmed to return in 2020. the gardens there reminded me so much of my parents' lovely garden at Mount Lofty, before it was blackened by fire. and the house itself reminded me of Arthur's Seat, the towered house just a bit further up the mountain from us...where Nancy Harford taught me how to wash Persian carpets with velvet soap and a garden hose, introduced me to the joys of gin+tonic and told me the secret of everything... "whatever happens dearie, never lose your dignity".  I'll confess I'm not always good at keeping that in mind, but I do try.

after five glorious days expecting at any moment to encounter the Dowager Countess Crawley and her withering words around a corner, we left Ardtornish behind us in the wee hours :: driving northward to catch a ferry to the charmingly named port of St Margaret's Hope, Orkney. it was a magical sail across to this gorgeous archipelago, arriving in time for a brilliant sunset. the next day was taken up with serious (double-trolley) food shopping in preparation for the arrival of our participants.  

the Ring of Brodgar

  and so began a week of 13 hour working days, beginning with the morning porridge prep and concluding after the last dessert plate had been cleared. happily we had a cheerie helper (a rare luxury) who smiled through piles of plates and wrangled the ancient dishwasher into submission. 

thank you, Caroline! 

when she isn't disguising herself as a dishie on a far-flung island, she actually runs a clothing company. (and lest the reader thinks I've begun taking interns in return for dishes, no. I have not. both the shared workshop and the assistance will remain unique events. no applications will be received!!)

if you'd like to know more about the actual class...Jane Wheeler has described it in great detail.

and now I'm in my last week here, boiling up a cauldron at the Inverewe Gardens. I came here with the intent of focussing on the eucalypts, but the story seems to be changing as windfalls drift on to my path, squirrels skip across it and herons soar gracefully overhead.  

next year holds four in-person workshops, three solo exhibitions and a number of research trips planned to add depth to the classes I offer online. thank you for your support, whether you've come to a workshop, joined an online class, bought one of my books or simply taken the trouble to sit down and wade through this blog.

let the season of twinkle-lights begin!!

raiding the ragbag and sorting the stash

It was such a joy sharing with students from all over the planet in my first-ever online class (the Alchemist's Apron)  that I found myself dreaming up another one.

I know so many lovely dyers who simply cannot resist putting another morsel in the dyepot...and then    build up great mountains of delicious samples that rarely, if ever, see the light of day again. Which set me thinking.

It's time, my darlings.

Time to raid the ragbag for beloved discards from which you can harvest, and to sort out your stash and get ready to join pieces together to make fabulous frocks that are unique to YOU.

The class is called Conscious Clothing.  I'm literally dancing with excitement in my armchair about sharing my dressmaking tricks with y'all and I can't wait to see the gorgeous dresses that will be growing in the hands of makers around the whirled.

I've made the list of necessaries (and a wee video about dyeing while wandering) accessible to help you decide whether the class is for you. If you do dive in, the class is yours for life and there's also a Facebook sewing circle as extra support...the lovely thing is that you all bring so many skills to the table, and even though have a few reservations about FB, the fact remains that it is a very accessible means of connecting us all.

and as part of the first lesson, I've included a downloadable PDF of the wee pattern-cutting booklet I published (in a very limited edition of 100) some years ago. It contains the essence of how I make my clothes.

Will I see you there? I hope so.  At very least...do please click on the link above to read about the class. I'd love to know what you think of the idea.

the school of nomad arts

I am pinching myself ... but it is true.

I have taken the plunge.

(what on earth is she on about, I hear you mutter)

Thanks to my friend Christi Carter telling me about Seasonal Affective Disorder, (something that was unknown to me) which prompted me to dream up a February project to help keep the February blues at bay...and then her insisting I really needed to make a video for the FB group (created for those who invested in the Bagstories book)

and then the darling Bagsisters being so very kind about my filming skills (and a bit of pride myself because I was able to make a wee film without saying UM or anything naughtier).

All of this gave me the confidence to create a virtual campfire that I am calling

the School of Nomad Arts.

it is the place you can go to learn and to make, all while curled up in your armchair, wearing your favourite jimjams and without having to brush your hair if you can't be bothered.

the first ever class is

the Alchemist's Apron

starting on March 22 (but open for enrolments now).

care to join me there? I hope so.

at high noon on February One

at high noon on February One this year (central standard time.... a silly zone really, half an hour different from the actual meridian on which South Australia sits and initiated by a bunch of businessmen in 1899, when the speed of communication/travel was so slow it didn't make a difference anyway), the 'bagstories' group on Facebook will revert to secret.

why is this important? it's because on that date (as soon as I return from a family airport run) I shall be posting the next instalment of instructions for a lagniappe project I am guiding purchasers of the 'bagstories' book though for the month of February. (it's a project that is not actually in the book, as it would have added too many pages and thus too high a cost to the consumer.  It is an invention of my own that has roots in Japanese traditions and a few nods to other cultures...that I am very excited to share)

corner snippets

those people who have already bought the book and let me know (via forwarded receipts) that they have done so, have been admitted to the group and are busily preparing a small collection of stitched cloth squares in readiness. well, mostly cloth. One is working with Japanese paper and another will doubtless be using her lovely shifu.

another way of joining is to find the bagstories group (there's a link at the bottom of this post) and to show your proof-of-investment by cutting and pasting details from your receipt into the space that FB provides for answering questions.

squares

I know this is a slightly fussy and irritating beginning...but I think it's worth the effort, as it means you'll have lifetime access to the bagstories group and can continue your conversations there long after the February project is done. Already I'm seeing that people are planning to meet over cauldrons here and there. I'm hoping others may gather for stitching sessions (or coffee, or a cocktail)... the more different people we meet, the more we find we are the same at heart...

'bagstories' already has members from almost all over the whirled...including Iceland, Brazil, Germany, Australia, Ireland, Scotland, England, the USA, India, Canada, New Zealand ...do forgive me if you're in and your country is not on the list yet! forming peaceful friendships through bag-making. This is making me enormously happy.

thank you, Jadranka Brown, for this picture...me. Looking very much like my grandmother.

so whether you invest in a hard cover, a soft cover or the pdf version of 'bagstories', I do hope you will join me for the month of February, making gorgeous bags, having conversations across the whirled and sharing your lovely work.

thanks for swinging by. here are a few side-steps you may enjoy...

the bagstories book

the bagstories group

jetsamflotsam

in wild air

how time works in Australia

lagniappe

disquiet

my exhibition 'disquiet' :: observations on a changing landscape

formally opened at Murray Bridge Regional Gallery yesterday, July 23 and runs to August 26

Fulvia Mantelli, Associate Curator, Anne & Gordon Samstag Museum of Art, University of South Australia kindly did the honours... and has agreed I may publish her speech in the catalog that I'm putting together (which may not necessarily be available before the exhibition closes - good things take time)

meanwhile here are a few images 

'counting the days'

'drawing the line' detail

'riverbed' detail

'washbowl'

'waterhole' detail

group theory

we are on beautiful Maui
a sacred island where time slows down and turtles wander up the beach
where the days seem to drift gently but the week
has rushed by





















we have written poetry
made drawings, stitched, dyed
made things new to us that appear to have taken up some ancient island essence
gathered shells and made string



there are thirteen of us + me
which makes fourteen (+ our fearless leader, Sharon)
so fifteen in total

nine are recidivists, four are new to me
there are three sets of friends (in two of them, one of each has met me before)
and a mother and daughter (there were nearly two family groups, but my Ma didn't make it)
there are five Australians, ten Americans
two dual nationals (one American Australian, one Latvian Australian), and two Australians who emigrated to America
among the returners, three came to New Mexico , one to Whidbey Island
one to Inverness, one to Santa Barbara, one to Odessa and two to a class in Australia

my mathematical genius (and conscientious objector) grandfather would have had great joy in devising a Venn diagram.

I began to try and draw one, but it turned into a paeonie.

the marvellous thing is that this group melded remarkably quickly into sisterhood.
the talk is easy, the laughter flows close to the surface :: I feel deeply blessed that the work I do brings me together with people whom I hope I see again

I am also hoping to return to Maui, but who knows where or how the winds will blow, the way our precious whirled is going...

another gem

good heavens.

look at the date. it's been over a month this time.

that's because i have been away here

making food influenced by the landscape

and also some big splashes

and revelling in the light

now i am home where between storms and howling winds i am momentarily taking a break from trying to discover why (although the sky has been falling) we have no water in the tanks; to deal with the emails i haven't tackled on my batphone while i was away from the magical all-surrounding wifi.

and in the inbox i found this ::

1. How would you describe your work? 2. What is the best piece of advice you have ever been given? 3. When do you know/decide when a piece of artwork is finished? 4. How do you organise your time, what is a typical day? 5. What kind of environment do you work in? 6. In what way does the natural environment inspire you? 7. What advice would you given aspiring textile artist about to embark on their career? 8. Which artists inspire you, and why? 9. What books have you found useful and would recommend? 10. What would you say is the best natural mordent when eco printing on cotton? 11. I am looking to dye recycle fabrics/clothing what advise do you have?

sic. as in, i have pasted it here, unedited.

i did attempt to write back politely, if briefly...but now, fuelled by caffeine and cold weather and the rage induced by a nameless person stealing a pile of wood (cut laboriously with a chainsaw by my daughter) before it could be gathered in 

i am going to give it a proper go.

1. How would you describe your work? 

 this is copied and pasted from my website. i think it's pretty clear.

i use ecologically sustainable contact print processes from plants and found objects together with walking, drawing, assemblage, mending, stitch and text as a means of mapping country, recoding and recording responses to landscape - working with cloth, paper, stone, windfall biological material, water, minerals, bones, the discarded artefacts and hard detritus of human habitation, the local weed burden. the work has been described as using " the earth as the printing plate and time as the press"

2. What is the best piece of advice you have ever been given?
 if i may quote Maggie Smith's character from the Second Best Marigold Hotel
"never to give any"
 

3. When do you know/decide when a piece of artwork is finished? 

 if i had the answer to that i would have become a successful painter

instead of working into my paintings until they became mud and then giving up in disgust

4. How do you organise your time, what is a typical day? 

i wake, gently, in the morning and the housekeeper brings me a cup of tea. the resident masseur rubs my toes with fragrant oils. i luxuriate in a hot bath for a few hours, dress in some romantic and frivolous outfit, pick roses until it's time for lunch and then loll on the porch swing in a pile of cushions working my way through a pile of books. later i put on a freshly starched apron and totter into the kitchen to create a three course meal made from food gathered in my walled garden. 

(much later someone else does the dishes)

5. What kind of environment do you work in? 

everything is perfectly organised and easily found. there is not a speck of dust, no cats have played wildly with my best silk threads and nobody has peed where they should not. the fridge in the studio magically restocks itself, a pile of fresh dry kindling is always to hand and the interns are up before dawn sorting windfall leaves into neat piles, arranged by colour and size.

6. In what way does the natural environment inspire you? 

in every way. 

(today it is mostly inspiring me to go back to bed where it is warm.)

7. What advice would you given aspiring textile artist about to embark on their career? 

 think twice about supplying work on consignment to boutiques in glamorous locations that expect you to post it to them free of any charges, then put 250% commission on the work and when it finally sells, pay you at their leisure up to 12 months later. consider becoming a lawyer. or a gardener. it pays better.

8. Which artists inspire you, and why? 

those who make a living from their work.

9. What books have you found useful and would recommend? 

'Eco Colour' and 'Second Skin'. theOxford English Dictionary. also 'Holidays in Hell' by P.J O'Rourke and pretty much anything by Rebecca Solnit

 10. What would you say is the best natural mordent when eco printing on cotton? 

'mordent' is a musical ornament, a little wiggly thing that indicates the way a note should be played. i think i would find it tricky to use in a dye process 

11. I am looking to dye recycle fabrics/clothing what advise do you have?

hmm. as i understand it that is an acronym for a department in the US Homeland Security division.

if it's advice you're after, then here goes ::

know the plants you are using, and their properties

do not be seduced by toxic adjunct mordants

think carefully about wild harvest and whether it's worth risking a plant population just because you want pink. or some other colour.

do not steal all of the red/gold/purple leaves from underneath trees in public parks in the autumn/fall. they are there for everyone to enjoy (and usually taking leaf matter from a Botanic Garden is illegal anyway)

develop your own style. 

another gem

good heavens.

look at the date. it's been over a month this time.

that's because i have been away here

making food influenced by the landscape

and also some big splashes

and revelling in the light

now i am home where between storms and howling winds i am momentarily taking a break from trying to discover why (although the sky has been falling) we have no water in the tanks to deal with the emails i haven't tackled on my batphone while i was away from the magical surrounding wifi.

and in the inbox i found this ::

1. How would you describe your work? 2. What is the best piece of advice you have ever been given? 3. When do you know/decide when a piece of artwork is finished? 4. How do you organise your time, what is a typical day? 5. What kind of environment do you work in? 6. In what way does the natural environment inspire you? 7. What advice would you given aspiring textile artist about to embark on their career? 8. Which artists inspire you, and why? 9. What books have you found useful and would recommend? 10. What would you say is the best natural mordent when eco printing on cotton? 11. I am looking to dye recycle fabrics/clothing what advise do you have?

sic. as in, i have pasted it here, unedited.

i did attempt to write back politely, if briefly...but now, fuelled by caffeine and cold weather and the rage induced by a nameless person stealing a pile of wood (cut laboriously with a chainsaw by my daughter) before it could be gathered in 

i am going to give it a proper go.

1. How would you describe your work? 

 this is copied and pasted from my website. i think it's pretty clear.

i use ecologically sustainable contact print processes from plants and found objects together with walking, drawing, assemblage, mending, stitch and text as a means of mapping country, recoding and recording responses to landscape - working with cloth, paper, stone, windfall biological material, water, minerals, bones, the discarded artefacts and hard detritus of human habitation, the local weed burden. the work has been described as using " the earth as the printing plate and time as the press"

2. What is the best piece of advice you have ever been given?
 if i may quote Maggie Smith's character from the Second Best Marigold Hotel
"never to give any"
 

3. When do you know/decide when a piece of artwork is finished? 

 if i had the answer to that i would have become a successful painter

instead of working into my paintings until they became mud and then giving up in disgust

4. How do you organise your time, what is a typical day? 

i wake, gently, in the morning and the housekeeper brings me a cup of tea. the resident masseur rubs my toes with fragrant oils. i luxuriate in a hot bath for a few hours, dress in some romantic and frivolous outfit, pick roses until it's time for lunch and then loll on the porch swing in a pile of cushions working my way through a pile of books. later i put on a freshly starched apron and totter into the kitchen to create a three course meal made from food gathered in my walled garden. 

(much later someone else does the dishes)

5. What kind of environment do you work in? 

everything is perfectly organised and easily found. there is not a speck of dust, no cats have played wildly with my best silk threads and nobody has peed where they should not. the fridge in the studio magically restocks itself, a pile of fresh dry kindling is always to hand and the interns are up before dawn sorting windfall leaves into neat piles, arranged by colour and size.

6. In what way does the natural environment inspire you? 

in every way. 

(today it is mostly inspiring me to go back to bed where it is warm.)

7. What advice would you given aspiring textile artist about to embark on their career? 

 think twice about supplying work on commission to boutiques in glamorous locations that expect you to post it to them free of any charges, then put 250% on the work and when it finally sells, pay you at their leisure up to 12 months later. consider becoming a lawyer. or a gardener. it pays better.

8. Which artists inspire you, and why? 

those who make a living from their work.

9. What books have you found useful and would recommend? 

'Eco Colour' and 'Second Skin'. theOxford English Dictionary. also 'Holidays in Hell' by P.J O'Rourke and pretty much anything by Rebecca Solnit

 10. What would you say is the best natural mordent when eco printing on cotton? 

'mordent' is a musical ornament, a little wiggly thing that indicates the way a note should be played. i think i would find it tricky to use in a dye process 

11. I am looking to dye recycle fabrics/clothing what advise do you have?

hmm. as i understand it that is an acronym for a department in the US Homeland Security division.

if it's advice you're after, then here goes ::

know the plants you are using, and their properties

do not be seduced by toxic adjunct mordants

think carefully about wild harvest and whether it's worth risking a plant population just because you want pink. or some other colour.

do not steal all of the red/gold/purple leaves from underneath trees in public parks in the autumn/fall. they are there for everyone to enjoy (and usually taking leaf matter from a Botanic Garden is illegal anyway)

develop your own style. 

in Odessa

sounds like the title to a novel set in the cold war, doesn't it?

(you might want a cup of tea or a gin, this post is about as long as a novel)

sometime late in 2014 or early in 2015 (i forget exactly when)

i received an enquiry through my contact page

asking whether i would be interested in having a solo exhibition

at the Ellen Noel Art Museum, Odessa, Texas

i thought about it for twenty seconds and answered "yes, please" 

but whenever i mentioned the plan to others, 

in response to a "what are you doing next?" question, 

i'd get some very strange answers

such as

"i was born there but left as soon as i could"

or 

"there aren't any trees"

which was a bit off-putting.

so i'm here to tell you that my Odessa adventure was absolutely fabulous. 

i met some of the kindest people i have ever encountered there, 

was warmly welcomed

given free reign (and every support) to create my installation

and 

liked it so much that i have promised to go back.

they have a replica Stonehenge 

(not created as a tourist trap but with a really good backstory)

and there ARE trees.

also the most glorious collection of mid-century modern architecture

(which just happens to be my favourite architectural period) 

AND the water, though undrinkable, is miraculous in the dyepot.

the water in the puddles is useful too. 

i marinated a piece in it, prior to dyeing (using local colour)

during my stay i also guided a group of young people taking their first steps into natural dyeing, through the Teen Art Residency program, a splendid initiative of the Museum's education section

though we only had five half-day sessions we made string, dyed samples, stitched (by hand) hoodies from pre-loved t-shirts, printed paper, cut an apron from a shirt and even dyed Easter eggs, though obviously that feast didn't fall last week

and then we worked together to install their exhibition

and here are a few more snaps of mine

a big and heartfelt thank you to 

Daniel Zies :: Curator

Annie Stanley :: Education and Outreach Coordinator

 Edgar and Eric at

 Black Tulip Design

for their generous donations of eucalyptus for the exhibition
and "green waste" for the residency

and to everyone who so kindly welcomed me.

i loved every minute i was there. 

and i'll be back.

+

coincidentally, as i was composing this post, a missile wandered in from Maya Stein. 

...perfect.

(at which point i should also say thank you, Christi, for introducing me to her!)

at the entrance

I've never believed what they say about strangers. I have walked into
a Nebraska town so many miles from home and been fed ambrosia salad,
offered a place to sleep. In Centennial, Arizona, they asked me to read poetry,
opened a bottle of wine to toast my arrival. There was a living room in Houston
where a woman I'd never met shared a difficult secret, and her eyes softened
in the telling. There are doors we insist, despite the risk, on keeping open, and doors
we insist, despite the risk, on walking through, and I don't want to imagine a world
where the houses stay shuttered and silent, and the front stairs splinter, and the bell
goes rusty from disuse. So there is no other choice but to clamber up, point our heart
at the entrance, press the buzzer, and wait for who will come to let us in.