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.  

leaf love and a month-long magical mystery tour

Would you like to join me for a workshop?

A long one that lasts a month?

Want to learn different ways of bundling to

let those lovely string marks shine on your work?

Want to know to bring saved dried leaves back to life?

Would you like to ease into a daily morning writing practice,

connect with a whirled-wide community and

dance your way through February?

Why February?

It might be the shortest month but in the North,

though we all know that the earth needs a rest before

the abundance of spring, the long hours of dark together

with driech weather can get to your soul.

And not in a good way.

Here in the South we just feel the roasting

heat of summer will never end.

So once again I have dreamed up an adventure

that can be enjoyed from wherever you are in the whirled.

It begins now, with a wee bit of prep, then goes to sleep

while you deal with whatever

the Festive Season is throwing at you 😉.

Late in January I'll send a wakey-wakey email

to remind you that the fun is about to begin,

and then every day in February

an email will fly in from me, with instructions

for the mystery project that we are making together. 

All I will tell you now is that it is both beautiful and useful,

and that we will be using cloth from your stash

and your ragbag along with whatever threads

you want to stitch with,

and all of the beads and buttons your heart desires.

You'll begin each day with quiet moments of grounding,

light a candle, do a little writing and then work on your project,

step by step until it all comes together

and you take it out into the light of day

at the end of the month.

And did I mention pie?

There will be pie.

Want to know more ?

Please click on the heart below.

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!!!

learning life lessons

it was a splendid road trip
pootling across Australia with Kubbi the One-Eyed Wonder Dog
nine hours on the road (punctuated by frequent stops to
wander in the bush and gaze at flora)
is a lot of thinking time.

there and back again is twice that.

I always learn something new from teaching workshops
but
what became crystal clear to me during the three days at Beautiful Silks Botanical Studio
is that the work I do
is also my own big life lesson.

that the act of teaching is my personal journey to be the best person (in this life) that I can be.
it isn't all roses, and it's hard sometimes to resist being catty about the way that the "ecoprint", a term I optimistically coined in 1999, has been hijacked to be anything but "eco-friendly" or sustainable.
because when I hear of the mountains of plastic and the bucket-loads of adjunct mordants being used out there I do become quite despondent.


but then I read this


"Thank you, for another brilliant, creative soul feeding workshop, that brought a group of strangers together but leaving as friends"


and it warms my heart because it reminds me of what is really important.

it isn't the brightness of the colour (though we certainly had that) or the volumes of product ... it's the connections we make when we gather together around a cauldron.



in this instance, a "second skin" class, it was also about the empowerment that comes with the simple skills of making.

I'd probably have made truckloads of loot over the years if I had just kept the botanical contact print process a secret and churned out yardage or silk pyjamas and a squillion printed wool scarves, but for me the greater satisfaction comes with seeing the happy smiles that bloom when dresses grow using simple running stitch, lovely threads and beautiful cloth. (all all we need, really, is 'enough')







in "second skin" we make string, measure with it, make a few marks with graphite and then boldly cut and sew.
no clatter of machines, just the quiet ebb and flow of conversation, and sometimes simply gentle silence.

and magic happens.

in this last class people shared so many life skills beyond just sewing and dyeing.
friendships were forged, wisdoms exchanged.

and that makes my life worth living. with bells on.

and then (fresh from the cauldron)
I was given the most magnificent present hand-stitched
with so much love, and dyed in my favourite colours.
 thank you, Robyn.
it's going to wander with me.

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...

pastpresentfuture

this year I was invited to participate in an exhibition being held for the Latvian Cultural Festival that has been held around Australia between Christmas and New Year since 1951 

the exhibition title "past present future" prompted me to create this autobiographical piece.

loosely based on traditional Latvian costume it includes an apron, a striped wool skirt, a wool blanket, a found antique linen blouse and rather a lot of bones. 

the stitched text translates poetically as "I'm walking and wondering why I leave no footprints"  and is borrowed from a poem by Janis Elsbergs 

(the literal translation is somewhat more specific)

dyed with eucalyptus, local colour infusing into something from elsewhere, from the ground up. 

the apron was reconstructed from a linen shirt and other items sourced during a trip to Latvia in August this year. 

thank you Lufthansa for the nice cotton napkin you left in my lap, which somehow became attached as well and which serendipitously made sense, as my background is Latvian and German.

the pockets full of whitewashed bones represent the cell memories we each carry within us and which I am convinced are handed down from one generation to the next.

I was born in the late 50s, and raised as a "European in exile", a child of two displaced persons from two different cultures.  

but the Australian landscape got under my skin.

I installed the work yesterday.

it was the last piece to go in, the rest of the exhibition had already been  hung.

frankly my work looks rather 'out of place' compared to the rest...everything else is precisely formed/woven/wrought/cut/stitched/shaped...I think it sticks out like the proverbial bull terrier's testicles.
but
I guess that's the truth as well.
and if it isn't true, it isn't worth doing.

look deep into the heart of a flower

photo by Christi Carter

if you bother to follow this blog then i probably don't need to spell out my thoughts on politics...suffice it to say that given my family history
and the stories i have been told by both sets of grandparents
each of whom chose exile over compromise
the results of the American election
coincidentally announced in Australia on the anniversary of Kristallnacht
fill me with foreboding.

what can i do about this? not a great deal
except
continue to live life to the best of my ability
continue to be care-full for my fellow humans
continue to hold true to the path that has been given me

now, i am surer than ever
that bending my work to the poetics of place
paying attention to being present, in 'being (t)here' as a way of life
rather than simply teaching "how to print leaves onto things"
is the way i must go.

yes, it means continuing to fly about in planes (windsurfing takes too long and my journals get wet) but that also means planting more trees at home to mitigate my share in the emissions
and because so many of you have kindly told me, both to my face, in emails, and increasingly in beautiful hand-written letters
that giving yourself the gift of time
(in a place that is not necessarily home)
to explore the small wonders of the whirled
through dyeing, drawing and writing
has made life better and richer for you,
i plan to continue doing this work.

because it gives me hope, too.

this past month i wandered to the remote western isles of Scotland
found deep magic there
took time to re-examine aspects of what i offer in 'being (t)here'
sat on the wild hillside and sang aloud
walked barefoot in the cold waters and refreshed my soul
brewed dye samples from gatherings around me

and thought about the return to my beloved Bay in February.
decided to make it smaller, more intimate
and to give the participants and even more beautiful collection
of things to work with, to experience and to take away with them

there will only be spaces for seven people this time
working with me, being fed by our chef (my daughter) Violette, and being guided in Yoga and breathing by my friend Shelley Boles

three places are already reserved.

please contact me here if you'd like more information

i'm also returning to New Mexico in 2017....in the spring and in the fall

and now, if you've made it to the bottom of the page, give yourself a beautiful moment. take a deep breath. look deep into the heart of a flower.

mindpond

as those of you who have spent time in a class with me in recent years will know, I have a daily practice I call "mindpond". 

one of you even went so far as to suggest I write a book about it. I duly drafted a manuscript while on the train from El Paso to New Orleans earlier this year. 

but yesterday, flying down from Vancouver to San Francisco 

I decided against that. No point in pulping trees when I can publish it here. 

The practice is simple, and has its roots in a workshop I took in 2009, learning to throw porcelain on a wheel. it struck me that the process of coning and centering clay offered possibilities for someone (like me) whose brain often scampers off somewhere else when it should be concentrating on things that are closer. 

Here goes. 

Stand with your feet nicely apart (tadasana :: mountain pose - as I understand it, is good). 

Breathing in, raise your arms slowly in a wide arc until your hands meet above your head. Stretch your 'wings' as far as they can comfortably go. 

Lower your arms (still in an arc) while breathing out. 

Roll out your shoulders, let your arms go soft and your hands heavy, let them sink towards Mother Earth. 

Imagine a beautiful pond in your mind. Give it whatever surroundings you like. Take a lovely pebble and toss it in. Watch the splash, and watch the ripples spread. 

After a while, imagine the ripples coming in to the centre again. 

Take your time. 

Watch as the water in your pond becomes still and calm. 

Take a few good deep breaths, open your eyes again (I find mine tend to close during the practice) and step into the day. 

I begin and end each day with this practice, whether alone or in the company of a class. 

I offer it to you. 

blue seas blue skies blue daze

from Mukilteo i took the ferry to Whidbey Island

and discovered

to my great delight

that our studio space was positioned in a most romantic place

Camp Casey

on the coast, by the Salish Sea

with a forest behind

and remarkable fortifications to explore

the buildings were spare and beautiful, white walls, wooden floors

and with a room above the studio that we could use for installations, poetry readings, the occasional dance...and a good space in which to practice my lovely Native American flute

the beach proved a marvellous studio space as well
and falling leaves from the forest behind coloured cloth as well as paper


and such beautiful stones


from Whidbey I came to Vancouver, which seems to be a city of stone stackers

at Maiwa East we worked on our aprons, wrote poetry, received the blessing of blue

and made string

some of the string found itself transformed

and all of it became blue in the course of time

eucalypts, as ever, seem to be incurably fascinating, and a student was very happy with her work (below)

especially when combined with local colour

in our class at Maiwa we had a songbird
here's one of the songs she sang for us (or rather, to the indigo vats)
unaccompanied and with the voice of an angel
and may i say
her version eclipsed the original, and the Sarah Mc Lachlan cover

i'll be on my way home soon
dreaming blue dreams way up in the sky

ripples in the mindpond

clouds in sky and field

one way

another way

and one more

stars underfoot

possibly too beautiful for words

there's something particularly lovely

about being able to wander

without shoes

and also

about being in place

taking the time to be fully present

feeling the wind on my skin

listening deeply to the music of the birds and the sea 

and the grasses and the small stones

and a flower opening slowly

more and more i feel this kind of slowness and mindfulness 

is where my work is leading me

discovering years ago

that eucalypts could print vibrant colour

(it was 1991 that i found eucalyptus leafprints on an eggshell

and began to put two and two together)

put me on an extraordinary path

and the longer i walk it

the more it seems that really

in the end

it's all about paying attention to this beautiful whirled

wherever we are

and no matter what other agenda is being perpetrated

just being (t)here,

it works for me.