gardens of the heart

staying at home for the summer has made so much sense.

it's given me the space (and grace) to play :: to make new work and to dream new ideas.

in January I made the wee book 'bagstories' and was stunned to find the welcome it received, and then delighted to see how the 'bagstories' group (on Facebook) so quickly became such a lovely supportive gathering of like-minded spirits.

that foray has led to me deciding that I should make a February project every year. Also, at long last, I will offer distance learning for those who suffer physical, geographical and/or economic difficulty in getting to a class.  more on that very soon.

but for now, let me tell you about 'gardens of the heart'...a  project in poetry and cloth that will culminate in an exhibition for the 2019 Adelaide Festival Fringe, that I am coordinating with the h.ART group who have been the backbone behind the establishment of an Artspace in the old Onkaparinga Woollen Mills in Lobethal, South Australia. You can sign up via the Facebook group, or (if you aren't on fb) leave me a comment below (or email me) and I will assign you a 'line number'. Why line numbers?

it's because 'gardens of the heart' is based on the three-line poetry that I have been sharing with students in recent years...which results in collaborative aleatory poetry...beautiful words gathered by chance from groups of (three) people.

each person stitches their line along a piece of cloth (450mm x 150mm  :: 18" x 6") together with the number of dots they've been assigned.

then all the pieces will be stitched together by me (and some friendly volunteers) next February to form three-line poems, which will be installed at the Woollen Mill Artspace in Lobethal, South Australia together with a cloud of suspended flowers.

are you in?

'gardens of the heart' group

the fabulous book I am reading right now

a link to the person who suggested reading it

email me to join the project (if you aren't in Facebook)

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

celebrating both collaboration and compromise

it's been a while since I had anything really interesting to tell y'all but today I have two things to talk about.
one is the fabulous scarf I was gifted when I visited the Netherlands last (northern) summer, woven from her own exquisite handspun yarns by Caitlin Bongers (she's the one with the voice of the angels who started us all singing by the River Tay a couple of years back).
the other can wait for a moment.

the scarf waited patiently while I sailed in and out of home, emptying suitcases and refilling them, patting the dog, grubbing a few thistles and explaining to my cat just why I had to leave again. it was a busy year. so much so that I consciously cleared my dance card for the first three months of this one, so that I could find some space to breathe, to prepare for the next lot of teaching and to think about what my part of the collab might entail.

I should explain that when I received this gorgeous armful of softness I was quite overwhelmed. I know what it takes to warp up and weave something, and this piece is especially beautiful. I asked Caitlin if she would mind me dyeing it, and being given permission I suggested we regard it as a collaboration.

so this week, in between working on the "other thing" that I will shortly reveal, I sat in the armchair, dogs at my feet, cats and kittens disporting themselves over my shoulders, and decided that I would knot the fringe of the scarf. such gentle repetitive work is good for quieting the mind. while working I listened to a podcast from On Being, John O'Donohue discoursing gently on beauty. it was perfect.

then I was moved to take my needle and do just a little stitching into the piece. just a little.

I soaked it in a diluted iron brew (students may remember it as 'magic potion', made by soaking rusty things in vinegar, and heavily diluted for use otherwise everything can turn black)

it was firmly bundled with Eucalyptus scoparia windfall, and then cooked in a pre-loved dark brew. (it doesn't matter what your bundle is cooked in, it's what's inside the bundle that's important)

when it cooled, I unrolled it, and it just took my breath away.  THANK YOU Caitlin, for entrusting this treasure to me. it will be joining the "essential travel kit".

and the other thing?  that belongs to the 'compromise' part of the title of this post. various people had been kindly urging me to consider making an e-course, but I simply couldn't come at standing and talking into a camera. I'm not good at doing and talking at the same time. something to do with the cerebral hemispheres.

but I do like making books. so the compromise is that I have made a wee book that is a kind of workshop-in-your-pocket (or on your screen if you take the PDF version). it's mostly handwritten rather than typed but I wanted it to feel as though you were looking over my shoulder into a notebook.

what's in it? it contains the secrets of the tsunobukuro, that magical bias stitched bag of Japan that I so frequently share with students. (little ones are perfect for buying vegetables, the in-between sizes brilliant for gathering leaves, twigs or keeping your clothes sorted in a suitcase...and I always carry an extra-large one in case I run out of luggage space.)

it is available at blurb.com and if you send me proof of purchase (via the contact form on my website) I shall invite you to the 'secret' Facebook group where, for the month of February, I shall be posting tips and tricks and one or three "how to's", and where you can post images of the bags that you make, and have conversations with fellow 'baggers' around this marvellous whirled.

thank you for staying with me and for reading thus far. 

here are some related links to explore.

Caitlin's blog

the riversong

On Being

bagstories (the book)

reira he makutu i roto i tenei wahi

ok.

I cheated.

I used google translate in the hope that it would find the correct Māori words for

"there is magic in this place"

(although I will confess that when I pasted the answer back in, and asked her to detect the language,

Granny Google came up with 🌸 Hawaiian)

forgive me. 

there IS magic in this place

...the place being the wonderful garden in the lovely Lud Valley that Judy and Michael Keylock have been opening (along with their hearts) for over seven years now, to let me play with leaves and words, paper and cloth while Chloe cooks up the most delicious food. 

we eat the food that has been grown in the garden while making colour from leaves that drift underfoot. 

there is a particularly special plant, Griselinia littoralis, that doesn't get a mention in any of the traditional New Zealand dye books...but contains a rather fabulous colour (first discovered thanks to my friend Rachelle, who bundled leaves from it during a class I taught in the Whitireia Summer School at Kapiti in 2009).  cooked in water it turns the colour of tea...but bundled it delivers the sweetest pink.

only two species occur in Aotearoa, with a further five in South America. 

sometimes they are epiphytes and live on a friend.  rumour has it they arrived with the Māori (apparently a decoction of the bark could be of use against venereal disease. hmm.)

at the end of each day I went to my favourite place (in the whirled) for a swim. there's something about diving into cold water and bursting up into air again that makes me feel like a new woman. 

and that experience is not only fabulous, but free!

wandering in the Suter Gallery on my way to the airport, I encountered a painting of Huria Matenga who looks astonishingly like my maternal grandmother

even flying in and out is a wonderful experience, as the land and the sea unfold below

though it's so very hard to leave.

which is why the four of us made sure to find a time that suited us all for a return, which looks like being in the third week of April next year (when we can once again have an open fire)

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.