longing(be)longing

two places have become available in the only fully residential retreat I will be leading this year, in beautiful Bretagne - Brittany, on the shining edge of the shimmering Atlantic Ocean.

this is one of the thin places of the whirled, where it feels as if you could easily step from this one to the next. 

the layers of history are dense and complex :: at our accommodation there is a fig tree with a girth so big it seems as though it could have been planted by a returning crusader

at the foot of the garden there is a path winding down to a burbling stream that wanders through a faerie-tale forest, the kind in which you expect to see unicorns leaping lightly over fallen logs or to find a strand of Melisande's hair

our workshop is called 'longing(be)longing' and will take us deeply into the investigation of the poetics of this place, one that seems to allow us to see further, hear more clearly and feel more deeply.

time slows in this place.

we will be hand stitching and dyeing, making a journal and capturing poetry as it drifts in on the breeze.

all meals are provided by our chef Geraldine (a specialist in mindful eating)

and at night, the Atlantic Ocean will sing you to sleep.

does this sound like something you need?

please contact Claire des Bruyeres to secure your place.

the year to come (and where to find me)

I’m sitting at my table here in France writing while at the distant edge of the fields the sun is beginning to think about rising. Outside a lone bird witters away to itself and about twenty big paces away from my window a brook continues its mad rush over the rocks. Today is day four of our class here – past students will know what that means. Time to bring out the chocolate!

It’s a good time of year to be dyeing in Europe. Elderberries and blackberries are ripening in the hedgerows. The first walnuts are almost within reach. The last of the St John’s Wort, that ubiquitous little yellow flower that rewards us so beautifully in the dyepot, lingers along the roadsides. Evenings are long and soft, washed clean by the occasional rainstorm.

The St John’s Wort reminds me that a few places still remain available in the two retreats that will be held in Mansfield, Victoria, Australia this year....both are limited to nine participants and are one-of-a-kind events unlikely to be repeated elsewhere.

November 9-12 'bloomin lovely' making beautifully dyed, hand-sewn bloomers, slips, scanties and undies 

November 14-17 'spring sewing circle', working on your own project with guidance from me (and support from the rest of the sewing circle – always a source of much wisdom, not to mention a good deal of laughter)

You’ll be supplied with delicious lunches, wine, fruit, chocolate and a package of useful treasures to supplement the materials you’ll want to bring. We’ll work in the light-filled garden studio at Crockett Cottage and gather our dye materials from the abundant eucalypts in the district. Poetry and drawing will add further richness to our days. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the odd small book didn’t appear and dive into the dyepot as well!

2016 is shaping to be a very full year for me with two solo exhibitions (USA and UK), a residency at the Arid Lands Botanic Garden in Port Augusta (South Australia), a tour of New Mexico, workshops in Canada and the USA, a return visit to bonny Scotland AND my mother’s 80^th birthday – so these (and the two classes at Beautiful Silks Botanical Studio) will be my last workshops in Victoria for the foreseeable future.

And why did St John’s Wort remind me?

Because most years the Mansfield district has an abundance of it. In Australia it’s a noxious weed and can be gathered with impunity, whereas in Europe it's a wildflower that I gather either with permission on private land OR when it is clear that it is about to be mown from the roadside

Please drop me a line though the contact page here if you think you might like to give yourself the reward of a retreat to Mansfield in November. I think it will be a very fine time indeed.

music to my ears

two trees entwined

moss hat

sweet meadow

one of the 490 varieties of hypericum

beautiful Austria

campanulas

on the way from Scotland to France i spent almost exactly 90 hours immersed in my first language and emerged somewhat astonished at how very much being surrounded by the sounds of my childhood/adolescence/family life affected me (in a good way).

don't get me wrong. i was born in Australia and love it dearly but when push comes to shove there is no denying that all of my DNA (including the dash of Kazakh that gave me my brown skin) is northern in origin.

so when the steward on the Lufthansa flight to Paris asked me whether i was German or American (darf ich fragen, sind Sie Deutsche oder Amerikanerin) it was with a wee chuckle that i replied "weder, noch" (neither)

i rather like being a citizen of the whirled and being able to meld into various cultures as required (even if only as a walking replica of the local compost heap). whether my rusty French will allow me to do so for the next week or so is a matter for speculation.

guess i'll report in due course.

Je prends un demi,s'il vous plaît

the felt+stone story continues

as any experienced feltmaker will have surmised

felting on stone does not allow for much "shrinkage"

as there is a solid object at the core of operations

and therefore the felt will not have been fulled to completion

i was pondering this notion

and mentally labelled it "semi-felt"

which led to the French "demi-feutre"

[which would more properly be "demi-feutré"]

but then the German possibilities were not so snappy

..."halb-filz" lacks energy
and "halb-gefilzt" sounds positively insulting
[even though German is my first language]

but enough musing. the felted stone shown in the earlier post

which, incidentally

began with scoured, undyed white merino wool

came out of the dyepot richly cocoa-coloured

which is how i wanted it

curiously, the inside layer, close to the stone

was a rich silver grey. a cause de quoi? je ne sais pas.

but i'm thinking about it.

anyway i had a plan for this little sample

having an eye of seeing [small magnifying glass]

that was beginning to become a bit scratched through its residence in an apron pocket

and needing something soft that i could hang around my neck

to keep the glass within reach

+  +  +

demi-felt [a good bit sturdier than pre-felt]  

is delightful to stitch upon.

and stitching is a good means of securing the slightly fuzzy surface

however

in the course of stitching

the object began to resemble [in shape] the purse of a ram lamb

as the stitching had pulled it in somewhat

[in Australia the testicles and scrota of sheep are referred to obliquely as "stones" and "purses". go figure. and then think about what a sporran might originally have been made from]

not attractive

the great thing about felting with wool

is that it is a continuous and ongoing process

[also irreversible despite what people mumble about the use of Fuller's Earth and stretching]

so

i thought i would go back to basic principles and play with the notion of

"shocking" the wool

by dipping it first in very hot and then in very cold, water

which worked a treat 

as well as offering a happy reassurance about the substantivity [i made have just made that word up] of eucalyptus dyes

as you can see, no colour is leaching into that very hot water at all

before i began the re-felting 

i drew around the object on an old envelope

so i would be able to compare shrinkage [or not]

as it turned out, once it had been shocked

and then re-shaped [with the help of another, smaller stone]

it hadn't really lost much volume at all

although the stitching now sits nicely into the surface

rather than looking like the icing on a slightly strange cupcake

the next challenge was to bring the stitching [mostly glaring white, which i had initially thought would be rather nice] closer to the colour of the pouch itself

sometimes things are better when you have to discover them through investigation

rather than being glaringly obvious [both in actuality and as metaphor]

so i pootled down to the creek [sadly dry]

for a bit of windfall gathering

wrapped the pouch around another stone to help it keep its shape

[remember that wool has the memory of an elephant for what happens to it] 

and then nestled my little treasure

into a pot full of [windfall, gathered from a city carpark] citriodora leaves

which were once classified as eucalyptus but have now been renamed corymbia

by the white-coated botany-boffins

 
i poured in the water that had been used for felting

[no soap or wetting agents used, so no dramas]

tossed in the rind of a lemon that was lying on the sink

[extra acidity always makes for better eucalyptus colour - which is why the need for alum as mordant escapes me]

+   +   +

  why am i making small things?

firstly because i need a small pouch for that wee glass

and secondly,

because it's dawned on me that with the rises in airfares

and increase in the cost of accompanying bags

those of us travelling to workshops [whether as student or forest guide] are feeling the pain in our hip pockets

so

i'm playing* with ways of making small things

through which many techniques and tricks can be learned

small things are easier to finish in class

there are less materials to carry [for the student, at least]

and with the application of a little thought

all of the learning can be applied to larger objects in the student's own studio

part 3 of this series follows soon

+   +   +

*  remember the words of George Bernard Shaw...

"we don't cease to play because we grow old, we grow old because we cease to play"

siLverLiniNgs

 Warrnambool TAFE have cancelled their May workshop with me [with only three and a half weeks notice...hmmm] - this means that the only other opportunities Australians will have to take part in a class with me on home turf this year will be at the Natural Dye Symposium in Melbourne next month.

shall be taking those trusty boots to the US [twice], the UK and likely also France in the second half of the year

i'm teaching a class at the wonderful Geelong Forum in September[class full, thank you] but there are places left with other [and excellent] tutors. click on the link to find them...

and the sparkling silver lining in that cancellation is that i can get my garden in shape for some filming in June and make new work for an exhibition in Cleveland, Ohio for October. a door slams...windows fly open!!!

indigo blues

those who know of my commitment to bio-regional dyes

may express some surprise on reading 

that i've been dabbling with indigo

but after observing the demonstration by Michel Garcia

[at ISEND 2011] i must confess that

i was very keen to see if i could replicate the process

so i brought home some powdered indigo

[purchased from Maiwa, who seem to be 

doing the right thing by their suppliers]

thank you Michel Garcia 

for so generously sharing your methods

it's proof of an excellent teacher

when the information 

[despite being delivered in French, 

not my first language] 

was clear and concise enough for me to comprehend 

and easily recalled to mind some 12 days later

on the other side of the whirled

ISEND 2011 - the Wrap

It’s been a big week at La Rochelle

Here’s what I feel like at the end of it

In summary for those who weren’t able to attend

Here’s a quick wrap of the ISEND 2011 Natural Dye Symposium

The pre-dominant preoccupation was with indigo and with shellfish purple. Even though assured that the local species were a predator of the oyster farms and therefore fair game

I still have my reservations

On the last day there was much talk of the need for regulation

For labelling and authentication and for a whirled data bank of plants together with recipes and details of books where the information has been published

[although somebody voiced concerns about books being copied and what author's rights might be infringed]

There was talk about industrial scale production

All very well

But what about the plants themselves?

It seemed to me that still, after many international meetings

There’s still little public acknowledgement about the need for plant protection

There are laudable efforts to cultivate dyes as crops [especially here in Europe] but in economically challenged countries I suspect food production may be more important

New sources of dye are being discovered [especially in the rapidly diminishing tropical forests]

But very few are expressing concern about wild harvesting

It doesn’t matter how abundant a plant is in the wild

The dinnerparty cheese theory will get it in the end.

You haven’t heard of the dinnerparty cheese theory?

Let me explain. It goes like this. Let's say I discover an unprotected common local plant and make a dye being careful to take only 10% of the population. My friend Betty-Lou loves the colour. She goes out and collects some too, but only 10% of the population. Then Ella who lives across from Betty-Lou is blown away by the amazing cloth drying on the washing line in the front yard and wants to learn about it too

You can see where this is going. The plant group gets whittled away, bit by bit. Each time each person thinks they’re being responsible by only taking 10% but, just like the last morsel of cheese at a dinnerparty, that plant is doomed to disappear.

So here’s what I think. Learn the names of your local plants. Do the research. Identify the weeds, because those you can harvest with impunity. Think very carefully about the consequences of the others. [The students at Massey University, Wellington NZ are doing great work with weeds such as Berberis darwinii and Ulex europaeus but I have reservations about their use of plants from the Chinese Medicine shop…who knows where or how the latter were harvested?]

THIS IS WHY I’M SO VERY KEEN ON WINDFALL HARVESTING. And even with windfall harvesting, if doing it out in the wild we need to consider how our removal leaf litter from the earth may affect the local ecology and proceed with care. That means taking a modest selection, not a wheelbarrow full

We had a lovely guided walk by the seaside, looking at local [wild] dyeplants [fleurs sauvages] as well as a few introduced species but I gulped when I heard the guide suggesting people should eat the flowers of Robinia pseudoacacia. The species is poisonous. We were shown Rubia peregrina [wandering madder] – but I’d hesitate to go collecting it in the quanitites needed for a dyebath as the colour [like that of the traditional madder] comes from the roots.

So DO NOT, ON ANY ACCOUNT [and sorry to shout but it’s so important] go out and gather anything you can’t identify. It might be toxic, protected or simply so slow-growing that the population won't be replaced in a human lifetime.

I’m still shuddering at the presentation of that unidentified collection of lichens and dye samples in the poster section of the symposium. Of even more concern was that it came from a group of people purporting to be professionals, one of whom was making a case for industrialisation of production methods.

One of the industrial possibilities that I can see [in addition to companies like Couleur des Plantes and large scale indigo and madder cultivations] would be the use of eucalyptus leaves that are dumped when plantation trees are felled for timber and paper production.

But because eucalyptus still isn’t really taken seriously by the academics of the northern hemisphere [it’s not one of the old-school dyes, you see], or the southern hemisphere for that matter nobody really wants to know.

Perhaps it’s the sheer simplicity of the eucalyptus dye process that throws them. leaves + water + heat = dye  

And when applied to protein fibres, no mordants are needed.

You’d think that in countries like India and South America, where eucalypts have been introduced and become a weed, using the leaves would be a doddle [rather than some of the very complex methods I’ve seen to make brown this week]

So while it’s been very, very interesting to hear the stories and see many beautiful examples of work; I think I’ll keeping exploring my bundle-dyeing using bio-regional windfalls. I’m really only dancing on the tip of the iceberg there.

The most exciting demonstration I was privileged to watch was that of Michel Garcia, reducing indigo with simple ingredients like fructose and henna. It was worth crossing the oceans just for that. Respect.

Oh and one last thing…in case anyone out there is thinking about where the next ISEND meeting should be held

I’m suggesting San Francisco, USA would be a splendid location.  They have fascinating collections at the Asian Art Museum and the de Young Museum [the latter situated conveniently in Golden Gate Park along with the Botanic Gardens and the Science Exploratorium].  Across the Bay the Permacouture Institute and several Art Colleges have already established practices in plant dyeing and there’s another splendid botanic garden in Berkeley.

If someone over there wants to begin planning and doesn’t mind having this Australia-based gypsy on the team, I’d be happy to put my hand up to help – especially if the next meeting were to take WEEDS as a focus.

There’s a list of EXOTIC PEST PLANTS OF GREATEST ECOLOGICAL CONCERN IN CALIFORNIA that is updated regularly. [They have an excellent check-list for the assessment of potentially invasive species.] So far as I’m aware, most municipal/local governments have plant lists of this kind. 

Comparing these records internationally and exploring the dye and fibre potential of the plants listed would, I think, be a really sensible research project.

Here endeth the rant for the day.

the thin veneer

Within the walls of the conference hall and on the tidy plaza that surrounds it there pervades a gentle and harmonious atmosphere.

People have gathered from around the whirled to share their joy in, knowledge of and commitment to naturally derived colour.
In the quartier St Nicolas it’s a little edgier. In addition to the usual grannies taking their Totos for a gentle outing and the gilded [but slightly younger] visiting matrons carrying their canine accessories in outsize handbags [a curious way for what was once a predator to be travelling] there are also a few less savoury elements roaming the streets.

In the square outside the Monoprix [a supermarket that seems to be the only place to buy milk but which I regret to advise smells like an open drain] two tribes of seedy-looking persons engage in a loud and pugnacious confrontation. I suspect they are saying unkind things about each other’s mothers. Each side is attached by sturdy chains to a selection of muscular and vociferous mongrels whose visible masculinity is clearly intended to endorse that of their respective owners who themselves are thrusting their chests out like cockerels in the fowl yard. The obscenities and provocations are loud and continuous. Perhaps they are able to breathe through some other orifice.

There is a bitter aroma in the air composed of urine [not just canine], sweat and adrenaline. It is not a brand of aftershave I shall be seeking out anytime soon. A few of the dogs belonging to the passing throng offer an occasional polite woof to the fracas as well. People edge nervously around the situation or stand at the edge of the square awaiting developments. We move on.

In the park a group of people are cheering and applauding. Perhaps it is a performance of some kind? No. It is an ‘organised’ dogfight. Again we back away.

Dusk falls, people gather at tables. We decide to test a local restaurant, having so far prepared all of our meals from fresh market produce thus far. After duly inspecting the various offerings we settle on one we think looks promising. We order a Kir Royale each [delicious] and elect to share a plate of langoustines. La Rochelle prides itself on the local seafood so we are doubly surprised when the long-suffering crustaceans appear, clearly in the last stages of exhaustion, having been [we deduce by the flavour and texture] cooked, frozen and thawed on their drawn-out journey to our table. They certainly hadn’t been coaxed from the net that day. On the bright side, the bread was delicious.

My daughter then had the salade calamars [also ex freezer and oddly bouncy] and I had a pastry-lidded fish stew. Not bad, if a trifle overcooked and thank fully free of winkles. Back in our apartment we wash away dinner with a gin and tonic followed by copious amounts of tea. In the streets below, people eat, breaking what sounds to be rather a lot of plates and glasses in the process and also wander off to their homes and hotels. Chatter rises and falls, gradually becoming louder. We expect it will peak shortly after midnight, as it has most nights except Wednesday, when the revellers were still singing loudly and tunelessly at 5.21am. I know because I looked at my watch. Blearily.

Back to the story. We repair to our respective beds and attempt to dispose ourselves in the arms of Morpheus despite the racket in the street. I doze fitfully but am called rudely back to uncomfortable consciousness by the sound of breaking glass. Lots of it. Someone is idly but repetitively tossing bottles at a wall. As you do when you can’t sleep. Some sound empty, others full. The noise of tinkling and shattering continues awhile until eventually it attracts the attention of a passerby who erupts in howls of very French rage, sadly unintelligible on the third floor [I might have learned some new words] and chases the perpetrator down the street. For the next twenty minutes howls and thumps and pounding feet can be heard in the empty streets.

There is more breaking glass. More howling. The whole thing continues like a ghastly groundhog day until the streetcleaning robotty thing comes and attacks everyone with a watercannon. And wins. I wonder if this is what hell might be like. Maybe La Rochelle needs a visit from Buffy.

I hired the apartment thinking it would be an interesting experience of life in France. I was right.

pluridisciplinaire

bonjour!
i am in La Rochelle, France
and have learned not just the shiny big new word above but several other new ones.
the ISEND conference is certainly living up to expectation
people and things of all colours and accents abound
so
as i have unexpected internet access
i'll share some of them with you

they include views from the small apartment where we have established base camp

i tell myself they look better than they taste

some familiar frocks 

work in the ISEND exhibition by Marjory Salles

exotic adornments

an exquisite darn on a brocante find...

but these last two images are of something that made my lower mandibles hit the ground with a bit of a thump

a display in the poster section of the conference showing some very beautiful

dye samples from lichens. 

 it wasn't the beauty that made the jaw drop

rather

that someone went out and harvested all these lichens

without identifying them first!

and then

was not at all embarrassed by asking [on the poster] for anyone who could identify them

to fill in the names.

rule No:1

identify the plant.

if you know what you're looking at you will also be able to determine if it is [for example]

protected or poisonous

but to go harvesting lichens [some of which might only grow a millimetre per year]

without knowing what they are...

i would prefer to err on the side of caution.