Fire

I have been a way for a week, and returned home Saturday.

Sitting in Melbourne airport on Saturday I was talking to Barry as he prepared our place in response to a bushfire down below.  He was checking the generator, sorting out pumps, extending hoses.  Friends came around with extra hoses, friends offered to pick me up from the airport so Barry could stay and keep an eye on things and friends offered us a bed if we needed.  The emergency bag was packed and in the car, and the bath was filled with water.

It was no fun being so far away and unable to stand alongside as we worried about our place.

He did a grand job preparing to protect our home.

As I flew north from Melbourne I watched the firefront from Newcastle north.  It felt at times like every ridge was joined in fire and some were severe.  I wept as I read a story of how a nursing home in Noosa couldn't be evacuated, so police and firies formed a human shield around it through the night to keep the folk safe.

Clouds amongst the dense smoke.

I was collected and delivered home just after the wind had changed direction and taken the fire away and to the side of us.

Fortune.

The tension of the afternoon watching the fire, hearing the relentless waterbombing helicopters collect water, dump, return, and into the evening as the red line was ever present, has left me tired and not up to much creating; so I simply unpacked my bag, did some washing, put things away in the studio, folded some cards and got some thoughts together.  Not much creativity flows from anxious times.

This morning the fire had been dampened and the wind had dropped.

This afternoon the wind roared again and it took off once more - across grasslands towards us, but  then was stopped.  It's a stop start, up down, worry relax dance we have going on, but we are safe, unlike so many others.

There redline dance last night...

I am in awe of, and full of gratitude for, the front line fire fighters and the helicopter pilots who have kept us safe.  The fire remains active about 2km away from us and we remain on watch.  But we are safe.

Thursday Thoughts...

“The book was sent to me and because books and doors both need to be opened, I opened it. A book is a door; on the other side is somewhere else”. 

Jeannette Winterson

I like how this quotes suggests that Ms Winterson feels compelled to open a book.  If they arrive within her orbit, then they must be opened.

I am imagining that they don't just sit there piling up on a shelf or by the bed without having been glanced at, if not actually read.

I imagine a little rifle through; a glance at the opening lines; flicking pages and checking out some dialogue perhaps, scanning the chapter headings?  And then they may well go into a pile, but they must, at the very least, be opened.

I like that.

Clearly the symbolism is simply that they are openings.  That books, when opened, lead you somewhere else and what lies within them (as with a door what lies behind or beyond it) cannot be determined without opening it and moving through it.

Sadly, you can't absorb books by osmosis or by simply reading the back and front cover, although a times I have wished for just that!

Opening a book does indeed lead you somewhere...

I have always wanted to know where this door leads; what lies behind it...at Sandside Beach near Reay.

Some good news

Whilst we were away I received confirmation that the State Library had purchased two more of my artists' books for their collection.

Their collection is a prestigious one and I always feel honoured when they purchase my books - and in particular, it feels extra special when the books they purchase are special to me.

The two books were: Peace Emerging and I would have loved a sunburnt country.

These books were part of the Compassion exhibition at Nambour's Old Ambulance Station Gallery during June and July.

As ever, with official collections, selections are made at the time and then decisions are made about budgets and capacity to purchase, as well as alignment with the collection's goals etc.

So about 6 weeks after the show closed confirmation arrived.

On return I completed the paperwork for the books - for the record so to speak - as well as copyright licenses for the use of them and have sent them off, so it's all official now.

I would have loved a sunburnt country...

And one of my Peace Emerging...

In addition, Barry's Precious Library of Peace was purchased as well, so the two of us will be in the collection together which is rather wonderful!

I like that this means that anybody interested in peace or refugees or women book artists or whatever little quirk of interest might lead them to my books, can now arrange to visit and view them; hold them and handle them, at the State Library of Queensland.

And thanks very much to Ken and Ardleigh the convenors of the exhibition for all the hard work they did to promote and facilitate the purchase.

I still have to update my personal paperwork, CV and website, but all in good time...

Overwintering process

Of all the things I have done of late, this wee book is one of the ones that at first, looks like nothing much; yet I know how many processes went into it and how much I thought about them all and how hard I tried to get them to work subtly and without distracting from each other.

I hope at second glance some of this is apparent.

From the start, I wanted this to be a book where I tried to bring together a range of processes. I did that and I think/hope it worked.

I began back in January with the covers.

The words are about ruddy turnstones, the birds, and I loved the description of them turning over stones to forage for food beneath.  The cover is a simple, embossing, white on white. I prepared a collagraph plate and just never inked it.

The back ground of the pages references the indentations made in sand by sting rays.  I had seen these myself at Heron Island, and I converted some images to solar plates and worked hard to print subtly, in the colour of sand.

And then, the words themselves.  I knew I wanted it to be small book, that could be held in the hand - delicate if you will.  And I took possession of some tiny 8pt Granby Light type earlier in the year and thought that would work perfectly - the lines just fit across the pages.

The ink I mixed to be a ruddy/rusty colour to reference the birds.

Rather than putting a verse on a page, I chose to put one line on each page, which sort of encourages you to read the the book slowly, but also involves turning the pages, like turning the stones...

At some point in the process I decide the shape of the inside pages holding the words could be different. It could be circular like a compass, and then within the book, the words of the poem would be set apart and made special.

Of course working out how to cut a circle and leave enough to stitch through the gutter/spine meant a few trials!

Lastly I wanted to reference the compass marks of the poem and played around with inking and printing them; or using lead type and stamping them on by hand.  As ever, I ended up going for the subtle approach.  Perhaps its too subtle, but I stamped N, S, E and W on the circular pages in the position they are on a compass. One on each page as you move through the book.

I made sure to leave some breathing space pages between the cover and the words, and letterpress printed the colophon on the back of one page and we were done.

So despite its apparent simplicity it is a complex wee thing. My favourite kind of simplicity!

I shall post a bit more about the finished book once I am confident it has landed at its destinations across the country and the world.

Thursday Thoughts...

“The past is always tense, the future perfect.” 

Zadie Smith

Such a clever play on words by Ms. Smith!

We can probably all find our way into it by acknowledging that we have at least heard of the past tense and the future perfect tense.

We may not know the exact definitions of them, but we can recognise they exist.

So she cleverly uses them in other ways,  and yes its fun to be clever, but then you ask yourself does it work?

We all know the world and our experiences are extremely complex, so no one size shall fit all, but definitely for some, the new meanings which appear probably hold true.  For some of us the past is tense - a place of regret, or sadness or trauma.

For many of us, the future is perfect - because hopes and dreams and desires are yet to be tarnished, disappeared or lost.

I think it can work and it just generally made me smile that you can play with words this way.

This book is titled "We have bee-n warned" a very simple play on words, about how much we need bees.

Pockets are political

Having been away, we had missed much of the marvellous activity around the Kyoto Hanga printmaking exhibition at Caloundra Regional Gallery.

Luckily, we were able to visit it on Saturday before we headed further south and I am so thrilled that we did.  It is a truly exceptional printmaking exhibition and we are so honoured to have it showing locally.

My print "Pockets are Political" is part of the show and I have blogged about it previously here.

As part of the activity around the exhibition there were several artists' talks.  Of course, being away meant I couldn't attend and talk about my piece, but my good friend and printmaker extraordinaire Tory Richards undertook to speak on my behalf.

She let me know that my words had been well received and had indeed made many more people think about pockets - which can only be a good thing in my books.

So in honour of having visited the show finally and seen my wee piece hanging in amongst such stunning work, here are the words Tory spoke on my behalf, and of course, my print.

POCKETS ARE POLITICAL

I reignited my enjoyment of dressmaking and sewing in 2016. I had learned as a child but began afresh with ideas for drafting patterns and modifying clothes and basically enjoying creating my own clothes.

Early on it became clear to me that the clothes I wanted to make or modify all had to have pockets.  The absolute glee with which I showed people my pockets and the thrill I felt when I had created a useful garment were beyond my understanding.  Why on earth should I be so delighted by the application of a pocket to a frock?

It made me giddy and dizzy and every time I wore a dress I had made I would show people “it has pockets!!”

It dawned on me slowly that too many of my clothes lacked functional pockets. Pockets were entirely absent, ridiculously sewn closed, or too small to carry essentials like my mobile phone.

“Ridiculous!!” I thought and so I tried to understand why we don’t have pockets. And I discovered that pockets are political and pockets are a feminist issue.

For too long, women’s clothing has been seen as decorative, not participative.  It is made to be looked at, not to be used. It is for women to be admired, not for women to be able or active.

It’s about Form not Function.

Men have functional pockets. Women have handbags. But a bag is not a pocket. 

Pockets are internal and secret; a territory of your own. Bags can be stolen or lost; you have to remember to take a bag with you, and you also spend time rummaging to find things – like your keys.

Men carry the tools they need for public life in their pockets, on their person. Women’s tools are external to themselves.

And anyhow, a lot of women’s clothes are designed by companies who have a vested interest in us buying a handbag (which they also design and sell) to carry our things in rather than simply providing us with pockets. 

We often have no pockets in our clothing. Try explaining the joy of buying something that has pockets in it to a man. 

They look at you oddly and soothingly say “ahhhhhhh yeah, that’s great”. Never ever have they experienced navigating the world without pockets in their clothing. Even styled and sexy male dinner suits have pockets. 

Pockets are the perfect metaphor for privilege – they are taken for granted by those who have them; and the disparity between male and female clothing and pockets is simply another construct, like gender.

We sometimes get non pockets – sewn up pockets. Is there anything more frustrating than realising too late that your pockets are sewn closed, bound shut and their potential for functionality made frivolous and simply decorative yet again?

If we get pockets they are smaller and less functional than men’s pockets – we can barely fit a phone in them. Men’s and women’s phones are the same size. But only one gender can fit their phone in their clothing and on their person.

Front pockets in women’s jeans are on average 48 percent shorter and 6.5 percent narrower than front pockets in men’s jeans.

Men’s pockets: 100% fit iPhone X; 95% Samsung Galaxy

Women’s pockets: 40% fit iPhone X; 20% Samsung Galaxy

By restricting the space in which women can keep things safe and retain mobility of both hands, we restrict their ability to navigate public spaces safely. A security or swipe card having to be withdrawn from a closed wallet within a handbag delays access to home and safety.

Possibly most importantly, mobility and independence are hallmarks of pockets – pick up your phone, your wallet and your keys and you can go anywhere. You can move quickly and have freedom of movement as well – your hands are available for doing things! 

Pockets speak to the issue of preparedness and our ability to move through the world comfortably and securely; to be able to move around in public and be confident that you have what you need with you and can reach it easily.

Pockets are political.

Books about to fly

I have been involved in a wee book exchange this year - working with the poet John Bennett's words as part of bookartobject 5.

The works will go on show at Coffs Harbour in New South Wales in early December, so I am about to send mine out to the other participants as well as to the Gallery and the poet himself.

Once they start moving around the word and arriving I will post more about mine; but until then I did spend some lovely time preparing and packing them on Friday.

here they are - all of them wrapped and packed and sitting on the type case that houses the type I used for the text (Granby Light 8pt - that is, very tiny!!!)

The coloured thread links to the words about the birds inside; and I embossed my mark on a wee card of introduction which is tucked inside the parcel.

I do love the way the random threads line up.

I managed to find a reasonable colour-matched pen for writing my note.

I addressed them with just a touch of calligraphy.

And tomorrow I shall post them!

Thursday Thoughts...

“Inspiration is for amateurs – the rest of us just show up and get to work”. 

Chuck Close

This is such an interesting idea from somebody who was clearly a professional artist. It was his job and he did like most workers do and by the sounds of it he showed up to work most every day.

I know it is different for me and I imagine for quite a lot of folk who would see themselves more as part-time artists.

I know for sure that the work doesn't get done unless you show up - this I totally agree with!  If I am not in the studio nothing is going to be made (things might be happening like reading, planning, photographing, paperwork, exhibition submissions and so on), but I know the work won't be made unless I show up.

In his eyes I am clearly an amateur as most of the time I do need to be inspired to make something.  I am not a production line and I am not just doing things because I can.  I need to respond to something, to take an issue or concern or worry or delight and bring forth something that represents it. My work has to mean something to me.

I am not sure that this alone makes me an amateur.

I also prioritise a range of things in my life - art is one; but so too is family, community, friends, house and garden...

Am I wrong to think there might also be a bit of male artist privilege at play here?

Women will always inspire me...

A full heart

Or my heart is full...

We have arrived home safe and sound, and are settling back into the rhythm of things, a little sleepy at times, but well on the way to 'normal'.

One of the things I keep an eye out for as I wander here or there, is hearts, and I have found them in many unexpected places and taking many forms, and this trip was no different .

On a gate in Edinburgh

And on a wall in Edinburgh...

One of the ropes for tying down fishing nets had fallen this way, and if I cropped it, there was a heart.

The door handle on the fabulous boat shed on Loch loyal looked heart-shaped to me.

A manhole cover at Sumberg Lighthouse on Shetland hid a heart.

The mosaic on a wall in Lerwick, Shetland was more planned.

On a wall inside St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall, Orkney there were a couple.

This is one of my favourites - a rock on the walk to Armadale broch.

Our door stones at the cottage - I collect rocks and pebbles and stones that appear heart-shaped to me; and the group is growing.

 A leaf heart in Singapore.

And now we are home and my heart is full. Another door stone heart and peace.