on indigo and roses

before y'all get too excited that i'm straying from my windfall path...i'm not using indigo for commercial purposes, just for the luxury of overdyeing my clothes after mending so that the mends will blend in better.

and because i love blue.

it's organically grown and i paid a fair price for it so the grower wasn't exploited.

indigo vats are like people. they need to rest in between working, are not keen on being cold and they get bored eating the same stuff all the time.

it's cold here in the deep deep southern winter so from time to time (when i want to dye) i warm my vat with twigs using this very simple heater. 



although indigo can be boiled when in its blue form, overheating when it has been reduced can destroy the colour. so the heating is something i pay careful attention to

feeding my vat some honey (that had come to the unwelcome attention of some ants) made the indigo flower go bright blue. 

it worked hard yesterday so in the evening (feeding the donkey after work as the indigo master, Michel Garcia suggests) i gave it a treat. boiled bananas strained through an old sleeve. the button at the cuff is handy for attaching the bag to a "dripping stick".

the squeezed contents might look absolutely disgusting but there are people in my family who really enjoy them

more please! it's hard to get a clear pic when Kowhai is wriggling with delight. She loves pignanas especially when they have been boiled to mush

i worked a lot with indigo during my residency in Portland last year. one of the happy side effects of overdyeing ecoprints with indigo is of course that the leaf prints of (particularly) deciduous species are enhanced by the alkali that is a necessary component of every indigo vat. that said, some yellows (such as coreopsis) are quite likely to turn red. and eucalyptus can become quite sulky. you can use almost any alkali to develop ecoprints (ash water, seawater, fermented urine) but you'll find that the prints seem to blur if you haven't bundled tightly enough, as the alkali will develop ALL of the colourant that has bonded with the cloth (not just the bits you can easily see)

i also found to my delight that Persicaria tinctoria literally grows before your eyes. a bag of fresh indigo in the refrigerator had roots from most of the nodes within 48 hours. 

which offers the opportunity for selective propagation if you're into that kind of thing. or just wanting to grow a lot of indigo from a limited seed source. 

speaking of propagating, a few months ago i had to rescue a rose (Francis Dubreuil*) that had been trashed by one of the goats and used a method i had learned from a copy of French Vogue (yes, I was surprised to find it there myself) that someone had left in the pocket of an airplane seat back in 1976

the method is ridiculously simple and works every time.

fill a pot with good quality potting mix (does not necessarily have to be cutting mix, you actually want it to retain a bit of moisture). trim your cuttings in the usual way (i like to have a bit of firm growth, nip back anything that's too soft at the tip and trim the leaves from three sets of nodes at the business end)

poke them into the pot (if the cuttings are firm enough i don't even use a dibbing stick), give it a good water and when the pot finishes dripping put it into a plastic bag (yes, i know some of your will fall into shock at the mention of a plastic bag from this quarter) and tie the top up

then ignore it all until the plants inside are begging to get out

thinking now that a row of really big pickle jars will make very fine miniature greenhouses for this method. just as long as the openings are big enough to admit pots and to allow for easy retrieval of the plants once they grow

* Francis Dubreuil was a tailor from Lyon who became a rose breeder later in life. Among his abundant output was also Perle d'Or, a completely adorable rose that has so far survived our goats (touching woods as i type). He was also father to Claudia Meilland who married Antoine Meilland (who bred the Peace rose which in France was named Madame A.Meilland...but the Peace rose story is a long one and you can find it here).

an invitation

-->

Solace

We live in troubled times. The news is frequently dismal.  Sometimes it seems our beautiful blue planet is under threat from all sides and I for one feel helpless when I hear of plans to send more and more young people to foreign countries as cannon fodder.

Spending a week in the arid lands of South Australia, revisiting a place I left nearly 24 years ago, gave me quiet time away from the depressing news bombardments. Time to think. It gave me solace.

And it gave me an idea.

Reflecting on Emily Dickinson’s “Gorgeous Nothings”, on the beauty of Tibetan Prayer Flags, on Claudia Grau’s lovely wishing trees and on the aleatory [impromptu or randomly generated] poetry that plays a role in my teaching I came up with the solace project. 

The notion of a collective impromptu poem, recorded on cloth, to sing in the winds.

Participation is open to anyone and is quite simple. 

Make a triangular flag or pennon [meaning a personal ensign, derived from the Latin penna meaning a wing or a feather] preferably using a piece of pre-loved cloth.

Stitch on it a word or a phrase or a sentence that might act as a wish for peace or an acknowledgement of beauty, imply a sense of stillness or simply something that  gives you solace. It can be as brief or as long as you like. A haiku, a snatch of song, a word that takes you where you want to be.

Attach ties to the tethering end of your flag as in the sketch below.

Post the flag [preferably packaged in paper* not plastic] to :

‘solace’

c/- The Observatory

PO Box 96

Andamooka 5722

South Australia

Australia


and what happens next?

 

During June next year I will be in residence at The Observatory. 

I shall spend time connecting each of the flags in the sequence of their arrival, recording the words on them as one complete circular poem.

Following this I shall prepare an organic indigo vat and on the day of the southern midwinter solstice in 2015 will overdye the flags in the blue of the heavens before installing them as a circle. if there are hundreds, then a series of concentric circles :-))

The flags will be documented photographically over time and the images and text will be available online as well as in a limited edition book. It may even be possible to make a short film. While I do not have the financial resources to distribute free books to participants, each person who makes and sends a flag will receive a limited edition postcard image of the installation, personally addressed to them and posted from the Andamooka post office. [remember to include your address if you hope for a postcard!]

It is important the flags be made from natural fibre fabrics as they will remain in place following prayer flag tradition, to dispense blessings and good wishes to the four winds...any shreds that part company from the whole must be bio-degradable. Additional decorations such as stone or glass beads, shell or wooden buttons are welcome, but please, no plastic.

Some of the proceeds from book sales will be donated to the Royal Flying Doctor Service, the remainder will go toward maintaining The Observatory. The solace project might not solve any of the world’s long-term problems; I see it more as a simple and beautiful collective gesture of goodwill...a glorious blue installation in the red dust lands.

and I hope you join me.

 

Yoda-san has.

*paper-based packaging from flags will be used in a subsequent project

notes on fieldnotes

i've put together a pocket sized [but quite fat] catalogue for 'fieldnotes', 

the exhibition currently showing in New Orleans

it weighs in at about 5200 words

no academic essays, just me telling stories about the work

you'll find it on Blurb

and thank you everyone who has sent pix for the student book

i will respond to you personally soon

meanwhile i have a bit of sorting to do!

how to run a workshop

every so often i get an email asking for advice on how to run dyeing workshops. sometimes people will ask me quite specifically [and i may say, audaciously] for teaching plans or class outlines. often i wonder whether they are writing to the right person, especially if they refer to dying workshops. i do not feel competent to instruct anyone about that.

sometimes they tell me that they've been to a dye class somewhere [not necessarily with me, i might add] and now they want to teach too; or that they "have the book" and are "ready to teach" but are wondering where to begin in terms of running a workshop.


in general i respond as follows :


dear 'X'
 
I have been working on developing my workshops over some thirty or so years and I'm beginning to think they are at last moving in the right direction.

But what works for me may not necessarily work for you. My teaching is founded in my history, informed by research and practice, enriched by continual re-examination, research and further study.

Each of us finds our own way into our own reality. The one sure thing I can tell you is that your work will be a clear reflection of you.  

go well

India

 

today as i was happily bundling away and stitching on my blue cloth while waiting for the billy full of bundles to boil i found myself pondering the subject of teaching in more depth [one of the great benefits of an artist residency is being given the gift of time, not just to DO, but to THINK] and so i made a few notes that i thought might be worth sharing

the first classes i taught were at remote communities out along the East-West railway line that crosses the middle of Australia. at the time i was employed by the Arts Council of South Australia [now a mere shadow of its former self] as their exhibitions officer.

together with South Australian artist Yasmin Grass and R.I.C.E. i travelled out on the Tea and Sugar train with an exhibition of colourful clothing set up in one end of an old railway carriage and a lino-printing workshop at the other. at night we unrolled sleeping bags and slept on the floor of the show. that was back in the 80s. sadly the Tea and Sugar doesn't run any more.

we taught at places like Tarcoola, Cook and Barton. at the first stop, Tarcoola, there was a one-teacher school and as i recall the teacher disappeared off to the pub after unloading all of his 15 students on to us. i guess he didn't get many days off.  it was "seat of the pants" flying and a good learning experience all round.

at the beginning of the day all i really knew was "more about lino printing than any of the students". by the end of the day i was beginning to get a grip on crowd management, had learned to make sure that we would have a first aid kit next time [cellophane tape and toilet tissue aren't the best emergency response for cut fingers] and had developed a mildly ridiculous comedy routine that helped get the clean-up done at the end. nobody bled to death, everyone had a printed T-shirt they were happy with and we had managed to foil the class clown who was busy carving an expletive into a piece of lino with the intent of inking it and placing it underneath fellow students as they were about to sit down. it was a creative idea but he'd forgotten to reverse the letters so it would have looked pretty silly anyways.

but back to the subject...how to run a workshop

know your subject inside out. that means understanding things yourself before you attmept to present them to others. in the case of dyeing with plants it means being able to identify the plants you plan to work with, knowing their properties and understanding the chemistry.
taking a few classes or reading a book does not make you an expert. practice and research and study will help.

prepare. i have a good friend whose motto is "luck is for the unprepared". i find it takes me at least a day of prep for each day of teaching, and a good bit of time spent after class thinking about what went well, what could have been improved and what really needs to change before the next time 

take care of your students and help them to learn how to do things safely and sensibly.

repeat things from time to time [we learn to remember by repetition]

be a student yourself. i take at least two classes each year as a student. they may not necessarily be classes that are obviously related to WHAT i teach, but they help me to learn HOW to teach in a more engaged [and i hope engaging] and effective way

if you want to use something in your teaching that you've learned from someone else's class, ask their permission first. and when you do share it with your students, acknowledge the person you learned the skill from. #

listen to your students. you can learn a lot from them, not only interesting information but about how they understand [or don't understand] things

keep on reading, researching, experimenting and learning in your chosen field.

and keep on asking questions.

the truth is you can never know too much about your subject. and the last word [for now] goes to Bill Shakespeare.

to thine own self be true.  

and while we're talking about workshops...there's a three day class with me near a beach on the Otago coast on new Zealand's beautiful south island at the end of April next year that still has places...in fact, so many places that they're thinking about pulling the plug on it. if enough people sign up in the next few weeks it will go ahead, otherwise i'll be spending more time at home in the studio...polishing up my skills!

# i shall be forever grateful to Nalda Searles [who taught me how to make string] and to Sandra Brownlee [who kindly let me borrow her idea of a "clothesline talk"] ... by combining the two ideas i've derived a useful and amusing means of presenting information to students and keeping it available to them for the duration of the class

finding my feet

it has dawned on me that it is the first time since 1985

that i am living in a dwelling on my ownsome

[note ownsome, not lonesome]

the faculty here at the Oregon College of Art and Craft

have been so kind and welcoming that i feel as if i have been here for more than five days

but that's all it is, so far

even so

the studio walls are filling.

i shall have to grow taller

or find a ladder

in order to make the most of the space

i have been wandering and gathering surface textures

as well as a few words

marvelling at the wonder of the leaves

gathering

and then bundling them up

with happy results

and i had a somewhat larger bundle going

a little ambitious for the pot

but a quick flip solved the spatial issue

then

later today

 a kindly former student

took me to the Japanese Garden

afterward

i felt as though someone had taken my soul out

given it a good scrubbing in a hot bath

fed it a lovely warm bowl of chowder

and tucked it in again between freshly pressed sheets

that had been dried in the sun

then read it the most beautiful bedtime story in the whirled

NB the chowder [mentioned above] did not have any koi in it

so now i am back in my wee cottage

reading this splendid book

which i found at Gold Beach

where i called in on my journey because the nice woman at the coffee shop down by the cannery dock makes the best ever double shot moccha frappes, except that it was Sunday and her day off [and who shall blame her, it was a glorious day] and the coffee shop was closed

anyway

on pages 14 + 15 there is good advice

i'm glad i bought it even if i did pay rather more over the counter 

than i would have from the Book Depository

if you live in the North-West Pacific and like food 

it's essential reading

and

the philosophy applies to dye gathering.

except that windfalls don't get much of a mention.

north by north west

i didn't take many pictures in San Francisco this time

too busy

listening to the sounds of the city

the glory of foghorns

parrots around t-hill

the whirr of humming birds' wings

the slow drift of the fog

the espresso machine as it unleashes my Africano into the glass

at Cafe Trieste

where

two older men address each other lovingly in Italian

i sipped my coffee

and

thought about friendship

and how much certain friendships mean to me

while reading "World enough and Time"

a book i was introduced to by my friends John + Patsy Sangster

on Lopez Island.

i think

i may make this book compulsory reading

for all workshop attendees.

after coffee i headed north.

i could simply have driven up the Interstate 5

but

it doesn't go anywhere near the edge.

i love the edge

so

i took the 101

which took me through Fortuna

and past this magical old cinema

i took this photo for my friend Shelley

i wanted to build a fort for her

but

it was really really cold.

so i went wandering instead

while wandering

i began to fill my pockets with stones

having a vague plan in my mind

to use them in Portland

+

looking down at my pinny

with its bulging pockets

i remembered that somebody

[contemporary of Virginia Woolf ? or other rejected lover somewhere?]

sewed stones into her dress

and then walked into a river

it would be so easy to do in a place like this

in the fog

where

footprints would soon be awash

and

the continental shelf drops away in moments

however

that was not something i was about to do

the water was far too cold

and i am enjoying the wild ride of this adventure we call 'life'

far too much

 

+

 

then a figure emerged from the fog

wandered over, making greeting noises

showed me a handful of exquisite polished stones 

pulled from a pocket

fished one out

and gave it to me saying

"take this one, it's a lovely amber colour and have a good day"

 

the stone looked like a piece of cold honey

reminding me of the eyes of a friend

[they are like those of a wolf]

honey coloured unless sparkling with excitement

when they suddenly turn green

 

 i was already having a good day

but that reminder made it even better

+

later i saw mollis azaleas

growing right beside the ocean

in Australia these plants are mollycoddled

and protected. otherwise they shrivel in the hot north winds.

here they grow like weeds. sigh.

wandering further north

i found evidence of my people

so

i left a mark of my own

 

and now i am in Portland

for six weeks.

bliss.

in which the river strengthens its spell

work from my residency by the river shows no sign of slackening

during the day i am a happy participant in Sandra Brownlee's class

working on Tactile Notebooks

my personal therapist sleeping next to me on the stoop

before and after class hours

[besides a spot of cooking]

i sort fragments, draw and write.

some of the drawing takes place in mud

i have been working on a short film together with Tracey McConnell-Wood

that is to say, Tracey is actually doing the real work [of filming]

and recording sound

while

i wander in and out of shot.

last night i stitched and dyed until late

so that this evening

we had something to unbundle by the water

the sky was absolutely fabulous

[and the dress that came out of the dyepot fits me]

this beautiful object is a steel drum

made by Jason Shearer here in Newburgh.
the dress was bundled around it in the dyepot

[if you'd like to buy a drum like that, please send a message with your contact details via the contact page on my website and i shall forward it to him]