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.

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!!

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

journeying

it's nearly 9 years (next March) since Eco Colour (a book i wanted to call 'botanical alchemy' but was told the title wouldn't sell) hit the bookstores. in that time what i initially referred to as 'ecoprint' has spread far and wide. thousands of people are making a living by printing with plants.

hilariously, though i was the first to publish the technique* i usually see myself referred to as an "also ran" in various media. a recent book about natural processes in textile art listed me merely as a "practitioner" of the technique (though instructions for ecoprinting are scattered generously throughout its pages).

i've seen colleagues absorb my work into their teaching practices, and observed "fashion labels" created after people have taken classes....sometimes only a one day class.

and there are so many people out there teaching "ecoprinting" (though much of it is not ecologically sustainable at all, as toxic adjuncts are increasingly employed) that i no longer offer basic "how to" classes. it would be like having to play "twinkle, twinkle, little star" over and over again.

not much fun for me, and ergo less for my students.

which is how 'being (t)here' took root and has grown into a retreat class that embraces being fully present and at the same time exploring the poetics of place.
it gives me such joy to be able to offer something more than just a class about printing with leaves.

for me, 'being (t)here' is a way of experiencing the whirled that helps open the cracks that let the light get in (thank you Leonard, for that phrase) no matter where you are. it offers a pathway to beauty that can be rolled out whether you're in a verdant forest, a shimmering desert, an urban wasteland or your own private paradise.

we observe and see, write and draw, print and dye. we fold paper into books...  the island book fold and its bigger cousin the river book, making a journals from single sheets of paper :: without having to thread a needle.

together we make discoveries, in ourselves AND in the dyepot. the other lovely thing that's been happening is that many of the students keep in touch with each other after the workshops. sometimes they make a facebook group, sometimes a blog. others just wrestle with an email list. but they maintain the connections and forge deep bonds. it's wonderful.

i've been teaching less through institutions (though i remain loyal to a select few), and more in beautiful and sometimes unusual places. the Yellow Ferry is one of these. there is something deeply magical about being on a boat, which is why i will be back there in February 2017.
i've reduced the class numbers and though the feedback from many people is that they consider the fee too high, the investment for the class is actually the same as for the first one, it's just that i have sourced a richer collection of materials for each person to work with, with treasures such as a limited edition silkymerino dress to take home.
 as a business proposition it is laughable because the expenses won't balance against the income...but to me it is absolutely worth it for the experience we will all have.

because it is the journey that matters, in the end.

and i am loving the ride.



*you'll see references to "nature printing" that are earlier, but that is a technique where the plant is dipped in paint or dye and pressed against a substrate of some kind

wishwash

i get a lot of questions about the laundering of contact-printed cloth...should it be dry-cleaned, is the dye washfast, what's the best way of cleaning it etc

the answer, in short, is to treat your plant-dyed cloth as you would treat your own hair.

not too hot, not too cold. no harsh detergents, no greasy soap. because if you use either of those you'll need to rebalance the pH with a vinegar and water rinse afterward (which is kind of what conditioner does for your hair. they only make it gluggy so it won't run off your hand in the shower)

 

be gentle.

wash by hand or using the wool cycle on a front-loader.

i recommended Aesop's APC Fine Fabric Care on my labels, cos it smelled divine and was wonderfully gentle on cloth. so gentle, in fact, that i could have used it in the shower.

sadly though i seemed to be the only customer buying it and so they discontinued the lovely stuff.

their animal wash does the trick, but doesn't smell as nice.

the other important thing is to dry your cloth in the shade.

unless you are washing sheets, in which case peg em out in the sun and the wind.

they'll be crispy white and smell like heaven.

just remember to avoid the dry-cleaner like the plague. the process is neither dry nor clean and will have your favourite silk negligible sloshing around in a vat of petrochemical nasties along with the filthy trousers worn by a travelling salesman for four weeks and somebody else's vomit stained car seat covers.

yuk.

and have a nice day.

blooming at the Poet's Ode

it's been such fun this week
preparing for my first Australian pop up
at the Poet's Ode this coming weekend

each piece is 'one of a kind'

Alia (the one who creates the magic that is the Poet's Ode)
let me play in the front window.

when i grow up,

i would like a studio with a window like that

in which i could construct installations

and then watch the whirled go by

while i work behind

(although i would still need to keep a studio out on the paddocks

where i can potter about in blissful solitude)

making another delivery yesterday i met a client

who usually lives in San Francisco and

who had purchased the dress i showed in an exhibition

held in South Australia two years ago.

it was a bit of a thrill to serendipitously meet!

and now i think i might like to become a window dresser

especially if i am allowed to write poems on the glass

with a finger dipped in clay

i'll be present at Poet's Ode all day Saturday March 5

and teaching a class in their inner sanctum on March 6

i hope some of you will swing by?

last call for wandercards...for now

the wandercard project has brought me great joy

kind emails have flown in from all over the whirled

remembering workshops together and other connections made

93 sets have been spoken for

6 sets remain available

at midnight tonight i'll stop taking orders

so that i can concentrate on 

getting the cards wrapped and packed

for their journeys to adventures around the globe

they'll be going to Germany, Austria, France, Canada

the Netherlands, Denmark, the UK and the USA

as well as wandering around my big island home, Australia

thank you, friends. 

so grateful for your support.

:: both images tweaked with the grunge filter on Snapseed

i've been tossed a beautiful bouquet!

just as I was thinking I'd have a quiet and cold July at home between exhibitions (in the UK and the USA) and taking up my residency at the Arid Lands Botanic Gardens...I was tossed a beautiful and fragrant bouquet in the form of an invitation to teach at the organic flower farm tended by Raquel Trejo and her partner Andrew at Scotts Head on the mid-north NSW coast.

Raquel has been my student several times, both in Australia and in New Zealand. I immediately said yes "so long as I am given a leave pass from the farm". Happily that pass has been issued 

so it is with great joy and delight that I am able to tell you there will be a 'being (t)here' retreat here in Australia in July 2016.  details below, in Raquel's poetic language...I should mention that the being (t)here class to be held at Beautiful Silks in November 2016 filled by word of mouth before it had been published to the whirled, so if you're interested, do please drop Raquel a line sooner rather than later

being (t)here

Mid North Coast, NSW,  Australia

July 2016

Journey with India Flint to a place where beauty is part of simple living and living is simply beautiful.  Spend five days being (t)here, on a little biodynamic farm, on a river, by the beach. Explore by thought and by foot the forest and the farmland of this stunning part of the mid north coast of New South Wales where the rivers wander to the sea.

Meander with India in cloth, stitch and locally gathered plant dyes on a country lane of drawing, writing, mark-making and paper-folding, to make a small and intricate workbook mapping the journey of time shared, a hand stitched cloth to enfold it, and a hand twined cord to wrap around it.

Contemplate the honesty of country life with the making and stitching of an apron, thrifted from an old shirt, with pockets for books and poems and places to tell stories, and a tsunobukuro bag to keep it safe.

There will be music and silence, poetry and times of deep listening, experiential drawing and the gathering of gorgeous nothings. Be nourished by our biodynamic vegetables fresh from the farm gardens, home baked and raw treats (with occasional tastes of real Mexico) provided by your host Raquel, and India will share her love of cooking by making a pot of soup for lunch each day.

“Turn on, tune in, drop out “ with India in an intensive masterclass focused on the deep experience of being (t)here. Places are exquisitely limited.

Dates: July 18th to 22nd, 2016

Venue: 923 Scotts Head Road, Scotts Head, NSW 2447

trejora[at]gmail.com 

keeping it simple (1)

take a piece of

cloth 

(a gift from Marion of Beautiful Silks) 

and 

a handful of leaves (swept up from the studio floor)

something to wrap them around

and

some string with which to tie them

snug as a bug

chugalug

introduce them to a pre-loved brew

topped up with rainwater from the tap

give them time to become acquainted 

and some heat to help seal the friendship

keeping it all sweet and simple 

like this beautiful poem by Mary Logue

 

and do swing back in a few days if you're curious about the result

or just follow the simple steps above

to write your own poem on cloth

the Maiwa Symposium

this still taken from a video i made yesterday captures the spirit of our class at the Maiwa Symposium this week, working on a 'wayfarer's wandercoat'
it seemed to me that dyeing and stitching cloth was only a small part of it all

the intangibles...adventure, empowerment, affirmation, acceptance, companionship, contentment, generosity (both material and of the spirit)...were present in abundance

we gathered leaves from the pavements (the area around the Maiwa East studio has everything you could want) and participants brought things in their pockets as well

we re-shaped much loved pre-worn clothing, harvested pieces from other garments to build on and extend our coats

dyed samples

and bundled the coat itself to give it a blue blessing

photo by my lovely assistant Sophena

our five days together were about beginning the building of this coat

a wandercoat that can be worn and added to on the wearer's lifejourney

that has pockets for poems, petals and passports

jewels and journals

love and leaves

(i'm hoping my students will wear their coats if they come to hear me tell stories again next year)

some of us even wrote poetry into the cloth itself

there was the daily ritual of unbundling

each precious bundle opened with respect and wonder

and on one evening
i was invited to partake of supper on a boat
during which i felt as though i were in a faerie tale
and that at any moment the boat might take off
to sail through the clouds




this advice found on the fridge at the net loft (another part of the Maiwa family) sums it beautifully. i think we did all that this week.
some students told me they had begun queuing on registration day at 5am to sign up for this class and i heard that it was sold out in the first hour of registration, which has me somewhat stunned and humbled as well as deeply grateful.

there are places i travel to that i really like to return to

Maiwa is one of them.

happily i will be back at Maiwa next year, am off to lovely Lopez next
and will offer the last of my Australian extended classes at Mansfield, Victoria in November this year  after our journey into the arid lands in October

there may be the occasional shorter one offered when possible but presently my dance card is fairly full until the end of 2017...with some very exciting adventures on the horizon including a voyage up the Amazon and another along the coast of Croatia

for which i had better build a few more pockets into my own wayfarer's wandercoat... so that more people can slip poems into them
(as the lovely Suri did yesterday, thank you)

this beautiful poem by Mary Oliver that had not yet wandered across my path

down in the ninth

 

 'being (t)here' in the lower ninth was so absorbing i hardly took any photographs at all. but here are a few...we walked along the levee

and wandered through the streets

finding several enormous pecan trees whose inhabitants were cheerfully hurling unripe nuts to the ground

those nuts made a fabulous brew

as ever, the bundles were a source of joy. we worked with cloth and paper

experimented with kitchen-sourced mordants and spent time considering words in gentle poetic forms

New Orleans water has a quality all its own. the reaction to the spent gladiolus flowers was particularly beautiful. that blue came instantly

we had interest from a pair of goats who seemed keen to join us in the studio

not to mention a rather lovely cat who happily rolled in our poetry after hours,

rearranging the words to his satisfaction

at one point he took centre stage on the shared work table and cheerfully faced each offered camera in turn so that everyone could enjoy a photo opportunity

i'd like to thank each of my students for being t)here, for sharing your stories and for adding to the general pool of wisdom. 

1000

i see to my surprise that this is the one thousandth post. i can't even imagine that many marbles. no wonder i haven't finished writing that novel.

i've been tweaking my website this evening, finally adding the class details for Mansfield in November...undies and bloomers (by demand) in one session, with another devoted to independent work (on the project of your choice) in which i act as consultant, keep a series of dyepots simmering for you and make lunch every day (gluten free vegetarian). there'll be some nice wine, good cheese and yummy chocolate as well.

those of you who have spent time with me before know how i feel about nourishing the inner bear.

Marion of Beautiful Silks has very kindly offered a 10% discount on materials for class participants. we've been good friends for at least a decade and a half now so i'm also very happy to be going back to her lovely Botanical Studio on my way home from Mansfield

i'm also offering a paper dyeing day at Poet's Ode on my return from the USA early in October, before i head up to Wirrealpa to prepare for our wonderful outback retreat there later that month.

maybe i'll see some of you at some of these...

meanwhile, if you are an Australian size 10-12 and interested in acquiring the garment above, do please drop me a line (i love it and would wear it myself but i'm just too sturdily built). it's silk, dyed with eucalyptus

same town, new eyes

yesterday i had to take the trusty Augustus

down to Murray Bridge for a grease and oil change

i love that i can take backroads there

through familiar bits of wide brown land

some visitors have described our roads as brutal

frankly most times i'd rather putter along on the dirt than hoon along the freeway

(unless i'm in a pony car. that's a different matter. entirely.)

after we dropped Augustus at his day spa

Kubbi and i faced a day on foot in the great outdoors

(they don't offer loan vehicles if you have a furry friend) 

also, we needed to carry supplies (drinks and snacks)

because unlike the customs prevailing in Europe 

where dogs are welcome even in restaurants

Australian canine companions are discouraged from darkening the doorways of local businesses

no matter how pretty they are

so it was a chance for me to discover that town through 

a different set of eyes

and accompanied by a different set of feet.

there's an evil local weed called caltrop

which has horrible and vicious spikes and is unavoidable in several places.

 i had to carry the Kubblet across several infested areas to avoid having her paws stabbed

we walked to the big river

met some other pups

and there was a splendid romp

(which was too much fun to be part of to waste time messing with a camera)

sat in the shade under one of the bridges for which the town is named

and watched corellas pretending to be pigeons

and also showing off by performing acrobatics and hanging upside down

and then went back for another swim

wandering about aimlessly

making the odd drawing

playing with feathers and bark

and an enthusiastic pup

was rather fun

(though i had a pile of work waiting at home)

and now i had better get on with it