travel

Stitch, pierce, repair

I have been using stitch for lines and for texture and have been thinking about how the stabbing of the needle into the cloth brings something extra – it expresses a kind of violence, perhaps a kind of necessary pain which simultaneously pierces and repairs. Stitching, as in mending, strengthens. But it also perforates and weakens. A piece which has no functional purpose except to be displayed on a wall can be very fragile, unlike a garment or serviceable cloth which must withstand handling and use. As I stitch, I damage, I restore.

Closeup snow walk

Stitched handkerchief from Instagram image. Work in progress for ‘Liminal’ exhibition, March 2016.

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How to find the way in

In the Wandoo Conservation Park

After finding bones and bark in the Wandoo Conservation Park west of Beverley

110420131247I drove back through the farm lands; fence posts whizzing past, paddocks on both sides.

Murray Bail said that the indent of a paragraph is like the gate to a paddock. It is the way in.  For a long time I have been looking for a way in to a piece of cloth. What is the gate or indent that allows entry? Otherwise it is too much like a painting or photograph, it is just there, take it or leave it, dictating instead of revealing and relating.

The reader can’t take in the paragraph instantaneously, the eye must move along the text, even retrace and repeat if necessary. A visitor to a paddock also has to enter and traverse the paddock. Think of seeding or harvest, going methodically over the paddock ground. As grazing sheep do in their own practised way.

A painter would argue that to properly see a painting the eye must move across the surface. True, but it is possible to have an instantaneous, complete impression in a way that is never possible with text, or land, or the complete qualities of a textile.

To journey two (detail)How to get beyond the surface, to cross over the selvedge or hem.

Is touch the way in?

The trip home


On the road through the bush

On the highway out of the city, the bush goes on for miles and miles.

Stone and brick building down a side street

The old buildings are surprisingly substantial for such a small town.  It didn’t meet its founders’ aspirations.

At the cemetery

After visiting dad, and collecting lots of fallen gum leaves

Paddocks of stubble lined the dirt road

I drove out of town, through summer-dry paddocks.  Two wedge-tail eagles soared out of sight on thermals.