I Hit a Wall on show

On Friday B and I headed off to the big smoke (Brisbane) on the train (for 50c each way!) to see an exhibition called Dearly Departed, at the State Library of Queensland.  The Library has put together an exhibition around death, dying, loss and grief and has sources lot son fascinating items from heir collection; the original layout maps of cemeteries, stonemasons tools, journals of nurses and doctors; and all many of things related to how we mark death and the grieving process.

I was thrilled to learn that my artist' book I Hit a Wall  had been selected to go on show alongside so many other precious items.

I have written about its progress before (plenty of link backs in that previous link) but here are the words that accompany it in the collection (but which are not display in the exhibition):

I hit a wall 
2024

After the year that was 2020 I regretted not creating any work that spoke of, or to, the pandemic.
In 2021 I thought I would pay attention and just note down key events.
My Dad had gifted me a number of my mother’s handkerchiefs and I thought to embroider a journal of sorts onto them.
I began by writing down events in my own handwriting, transferring them onto a hankie, and then hand embroidering my handwriting.
I had no idea what 2021 would hold and that in fact, it would be busier than 2020 had been.

Each month I would capture events, and start stitching.
It took all my creative time to try and keep up with policy shifts; quarantine; border closures; contact tracing; gatherings; social distancing; access to vaccines; short sharp lockdowns…
It was exhausting.
I persisted.  
But then.

There was too much. I was too tired of it all.  I felt numb and overwhelmed. I felt weary.
I transferred the month of August onto the hankie but couldn’t start stitching. So much happened in that month that I had to do the criss-cross writing so often seen in old correspondence where the written lines went in two directions. I felt it would never end.
And I submitted to a sense of overwhelmedness and simply stopped.  

I hit a wall.

Leaving this artists’ book partially completed represents us all at the tail end of that year. I had thought I might pick it up and complete it, but I haven’t been able to.  Like everybody I probably just want to park those times, not re-visit them in detail.

Reading the handkerchief pages of this book, I am amazed to recall the daily drama we dealt with.

But I hit a wall and have now simply tacked the pages together and it is complete just as it is…

31cm(h) x 31cm(w) x 1cm(d) closed; 31cm(h) x 62cm(w) x 1cm(d) open.

Cotton handkerchiefs and embroidery thread, Pilot Frixion pen

There were different themes across the exhibition, and my work was part of the Pandemics, epidemics and quarantine.

There is an interesting virtual tour of the exhibition for those who can't get to Brisbane, and here is a screen shot of my work on display.

Back to the book itself, August was the month that defeated me - so much happened and I felt overwhelmed by the thought of trying to capture it all, let alone sew it all.

And by October, I had nothing.

This remains a book that I am proud of, and that has a special place in my heart and in my mind. They were such difficult times, and with this book, we remember them.