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

still breathing

I apologise for the decreasing frequency

or

perhaps that is

increasing infrequency

of postings here.

blogger makes it tricky to interact with the readership, you see.

I can't respond to your questions, the platform simply won't allow it.

but I can still tell a few stories.

 

it's been an extraordinary year

(they all are, really) with wanderings that have included exhibitions in one of the busiest locations in the UK, as well as one of the more remote (but seemingly with lots of lovely visitors).

a day after 'leafpoems :: treeclooties from here and (t)here' concluded at the Inverewe Gardens in Scotland,   'incomplete journeys' opened at the Festival of Quilts in Birmingham ... truly two extremes!

and presently I have work in 'borderline' at Fabrik, in South Australia,
as well as a chapter on my work in a beautiful new book

'True Colors'
by
Keith Recker

most of next year's workshops are up on my website

and I am very happy to say that the 

School of Nomad Arts

is blooming beautifully.

thanks for hanging in here.

if you have something that needs an answer, drop me a line.

there's a wee icon at the foot of my website

that will let you send me a message.

cheerie,

India

wayfaring in the outlands

regular readers will already be aware that I adore Scotland, so it won't come as a surprise if you can hear me dancing around my studio from a distance

because today I can finally share two classes that have been some months in the planning.

from the river to the sea(loch) :: finding your wild heart on the western edge

November 10 - 14, 2018

and

wayfinding between time in the outlands…

November 17 - 21, 2018



getting to each one involves a bit of an adventure and a ferry ride, but that is half the fun.


you'll find the link to the contact details here (please scroll to the bottom of the page)

refuge

'lifeboat'

Lately there has been another tsunami of posts on the interpixies by various people operating in the creative arts whirled, complaining about copyists.

The funny thing is that many of them derive a living from having either copied someone else's work from a book, poached a successful business model (in one case, together with the email list!) from an associate or are directly teaching exactly what they have learned in a class.

I stopped giving printed handouts in the year 2000, when someone at the textile forum who had not actually been in my class, helped themselves to a copy and then advertised and presented the class (verbatim) a few months later.

Sometimes people still ask for them...and I can't help but raise an eyebrow when they add "because I've been asked to teach the class to   my quilt group/local school/in a workshop   next whenever.

I have been teaching creative classes of one sort or another since 1986 and have participated in many (over thirty) classes as a student, most recently one with the lovely Lorna Crane. Next year I'll be back at Shakerag...as a student. Will I be sharing directly what I have learned? No.

I choose to attend classes that will add to my practice, in a kind of personalised ongoing post-graduate professional development program. Sometimes I learn more about the practice of teaching than about a specific technique. Either way, the experience is invaluable and improves the way I present classes, but indirectly so.

That's because the experience is filtered through my life, not simply reproduced.

'landgarland'

So when people ask me outright to explain exactly how I make my personal work (which is what happened at the opening of my current exhibition 'refuge') I politely decline. There's enough information freely available about 'ecoprinting' online and I don't care if you are "just a painter and unlikely to use it" because I'm sorry but my bullshit detector redlined when I saw your partner's ears pricked and alert. I wouldn't have explained it anyway. To say that it's a contact print is enough.

Also, I am now wise to the practice of inviting people to lunch to talk about the possibility of working with their firm...and then having your brains thoroughly picked. Lunch is not a sufficient payment for my time (and airfares). I prefer my own cooking most times anyway. In future, persons wanting to "consult" will need to substantiate that interest with appropriate reimbursement for my time and travel. Your lawyer isn't going to drop in for lunch to tell you exactly how to manage a situation either. The other thing I will not allow is prospective hosts to "sit in on a class" to see how it will "fit with their program".  I'm not so much green as I'm cabbage-looking.

On the sunny side, I do love teaching, and that is why sharing the class 'being (t)here' makes me so happy. It changes with each location, and grows as I dream up new techniques and practices to add. Each one is different from the next. The poetry writing, though it fills some with trepidation, has become a rich and fulfilling part of the event. Participants still learn how to print on cloth and paper, but also develop more confidence in drawing and writing. Many tell me that they come away from our time together with a deeper knowledge of themselves and with a clearer vision of where they want to take their own work.

Things like that fill me with a deep satisfaction, gratitude and the feeling that my time on this wondrous planet is not being entirely wasted.

Next year will take me to France, Canada, New Zealand, and Scotland

(look for an announcement soon about

"wayfinding between time in the outlands…" in Orkney)
 as well as (a little closer to home) Queensland and Western Australia.

Maybe I'll see you somewhere out there?

'Albertine' doing her thing

where did the day the week the year my life go?

the title of this post is running like an earworm in my head.

since we last met

I have been in the west of Scotland

and also in the west of Australia

both beautiful.

I took a few days on my own after teaching at Newburgh (the two reddish pix are details of 'shibusa felt', followed by printed paper and then some stitched and dyed organic eri+cotton cloth (acquired from Maiwa)

we had students from all over the whirled...both coasts of the USA, as well as the south-west, Australia, New Zealand , the Netherlands, Sweden and Switzerland, as well as lovely locals.

all gathered together in happy community around a dye cauldron

(and the delight, for me, of bilingual teaching...good practice!)

then I sailed for Harris

where I exhumed last year's bundle

and made a small film

and thought about music

it was hard to tear myself away

but journeying through the Wester Ross brought other delights

notably the extraordinary Inverewe garden, just north of Gairloch

where I spent a happy morning dodging midges

before driving onward for a glorious studio visit

exploring common ground with my friend Kerstin Gren

home again

I was called west, to the Dryandra Woodland

where we had to step carefully, with tiny orchids underfoot

and were required to apply for a permit to gather windfalls

(which, technically, all leaf printers in Australia gathering anywhere that is NOT private property, are legally required to do)

and where we found the perfect pot, with only one small leak that was successfully plugged with clay, scraped from the edge of a nearby dam

now I'm home again, briefly

and thinking about next year.

because I can no longer teach in the USA

(the current regime is not keen for wandering dye-stained gypsies)

those who wish to spend time with me

may like to hop the pond to Scotland (November next year) where

plans are afoot for some new explorations (details to follow)

or

or Norway (September)

when I shall be adventuring with Arts and Cultural Travel