Threads of Time - project Alchemy, Astrology and Medicine

Last October I saw a leaflet at the 'Needlecraft' shop in Hemel Hempstead, inviting textile and mixed media artists to take part in an exciting project organised by the Hertfordshire Archives and Local Studies library. I really needed a new creative challenge, so I signed up for the first meeting at the Local Studies Library in Hertford. The project involves documents from the Wittewronge family collection as inspiration for pieces of textile art to be exhibited at HALS in June 2014. 

Needlelace from the Wittewronge collection DE/Lw/F32

HALS

I was surprised to see that over 30 women had turned up for the meeting and another date was planned for the people who couldn't make the initial meeting. We viewed some of the old documents, which included some old maps and beautiful handwritten scripts.
Being a Dutch expatriate myself I was particularly interested to learn that the Wittewronge family originated from Flanders, part of The Low Countries which was occupied by the Spanish in the 16^th and 17^th Century. Sir John Wittewronge (1618 – 1693), the grandson of Jacques Wittewronghele who fled Ghent with his family in 1564, even altered Rothamstead Manor, which he bought in 1640 to include Dutch gables.
I love a bit of history, especially if I can bridge time and discover connections to myself. So I was quite keen to have a look at some of the other documents in the Wittewronge collection. After looking on the website of the National Archives I discovered to my surprise a series of documents entitled 'Alchemy, astrology and medicine' (see here for a link).

This made me very curious and excited as I have a life long interest in these subjects which inspires my artwork on many occasions. So I arranged to come and view the documents whilst my friend Jackie was attending the second initial meeting. I have never been to the archives before, let alone handling old documents. I couldn't help to be excited when I imagined that someone almost 400 years ago wrote these documents and studied the subjects I am interested in.

Documents on alchemy, astrology and medicine.
 Ref. HALS DE/Lw/Z6

Apart from 3 printed almanacs from the 1640's the other documents were all handwritten treatises in French, Dutch, English and Latin. Difficult to read and understand but with some interesting marks, doodles and pictures.
 

Doodles in a treatise on alchemy Ref. HALS DE/Lw/Z6

There was one page with an alchemical formulae drawn on it. It contains 2 female names, one spelled exactly as mine. How intriguing, but what does it mean? Perhaps the owner tried to work out which of the 2 women were most compatible to marry him. A recipe for a love potion!

 

Alchemical formula for marriage? Ref. HALS DE/Lw/Z6

I love the mysterious looking alchemical symbols and definitely like to incorporate these somehow in my project.

I also like the look of old manuscripts and books, antique and yellowing pages, disintegrating book-covers and so on. I haven't really started to design or work on anything yet, but I am collecting lots of ideas on my Pinterest boards, which you can follow by clicking on 'here'.

I have been fascinated for some time in mixed media as used in 'altered books' and assemblage art, but I have never made anything myself in that manner. I have signed up for a workshop with Paula Watkins at the Embroiderers' Guild on altered books in February and hope to use this towards my project.
So watch this space.

Under the weather

I had all intention to write at least once week, but I haven't been feeling all that great in the last few weeks. First a tummy bug and then some problems with my eyes. Anyway I don't want to talk about my ailments and there has been enough talk about the weather lately, especially with my mother-in-law in Guernsey. For having been snowed in on a island that far south is a bit more unusual then snowed in sheep in Cumbria and Scotland. Although I do feel genuine sorry for all those sheep and people affected by this cold and snowy weather.

 A view of the park near our house.

The good news is it will not stay forever like this, because nothing stays the same, as everything is always in the process of change, which brings me to some textile talk.

I am in a small group of textile artists, which comes together once a month, rotating at each others house.
We haven't got a name, although I call it the Wednesday Stitch group. We stitch, chat and network, drink coffee and tea, eat biscuits and cake and set ourselves some challenges every now and then.
One of our current challenges is to make an unfinished piece of work about the weather, which is then passed on to the next person who changes it by adding, taking away, cutting up, reassemble and so on. It will then move on to another member and so on until it comes back to the one who started it. The idea is to become more flexible and 'let go' of what we consider to be our creation. Accept the change, go with the flow and be not so precious about what we think we own.
It's a damn good exercise, even more so if you take it further into your life and apply it to other aspects of your existence......

Anyway for my piece I wanted to create some fabric design which not only evoke the weather but also uses the weather in creating it. So I decided to use the Cyanotype, a photographic print method using the sun. I had a packet of already impregnated fabric, so all I needed was a sunny day, work out a design, lay it on the fabric under a glass plate and leave it outside for the recommended time. Rinse and voila.

I used plastic snowflakes from a cut up Christmas tree decoration ( I use to rummage in stores after Christmas for any possible 'finds'), feathers to present the wind, small wooden shapes of the sun, moon, and stars - think sunny days and clear starry nights, wooden cloud shapes and a raindrop, a carton leaf stencil to indicate autumn and some starry sequins for seeds blowing in the wind.

I had no idea what the next person could do with it and although curious I didn't really care what would happen to this piece of fabric, possibly because I didn't spend much time on it, so I didn't feel a strong connection to it.

But then I passed it on to Gina and this is what she did with it:

The weather (vane) pigeon

I know it is not finished but I absolutely love it and because of my love for the bird as a symbol I felt immediately strongly connected to it - which means, I know, I have to 'let it go' one day.
Gina obviously knew about my interest in the symbol of birds and wanted to honour that. It did however strike me that she told me beforehand what she wanted to do with the fabric as she wanted to be sure that I was OK with it. I experienced a similar  hesitation working on her weather piece, a beautiful winter veil.

For much better pictures look at her blog here.

I didn't want to cut it up, certainly not after reading the comments on her blog. I also didn't want to alter or add to it directly as it felt like I would dishonour her work by doing so. So I took the very safe option of creating a 'new' piece as a background and attached it to the back of her veil.
I used a bit of commercial dyed fabric, which looks like sky, a piece of hand dyed linen and some commercially dyed purple.

It was all a bit boring and not very creative but I didn't know what to add, so I left it for a few days. By then I had bought the Stitch magazine, which had a project article to make this wall hanging with a tree by Sam Packer. I know it is cheating, not drawing my own tree, but why spend more time when someone created a perfect tree template which fitted exactly on my piece of fabric?

As it was (and apparently still is) winter, I left out the leaves and the birds, which had not flown back yet from warmer climates.

But I had seen the first snowdrops, little white bells ringing the message that Spring it on its way. It was just before my birthday when I was out with my daughter, Ilana, for a museum visit, lunch and a spot of retail therapy in Great Missenden. She told me that she remembered that her dad used to tell her when she was very young that when the snowdrops were out it would be mummy's birthday soon. So I thought the snowdrops would present a bit of me and a message of new beginnings for Gina, waiting beneath her Winter's veil.

 
The single buttonhole stitch in a thick white thread seemed to lend itself well for these little bells.
The temptation was great to keep on adding things to it, but I was mindful that there there are 3 more people who need to put their mark to this work. So here it is:

 

Now, go and visit Gina's blog, read her side of the story and enjoy some better photographs.

Catching birds and 'letting go'

I haven't done any 'meaningful' textile work since Kiama passed away, my head was just not in the right place for it. I did however felt the need to do some creative therapy. Something 'textily' which doesn't involve much of my brain. So over the summer I started to do some crochet. I love doing crochet. Well you would do, wouldn't you, if you like me managed to crochet about 10 metres of café curtains during night shifts as a nurse in the 70's? 

I can't show the curtains any more, but I still have the booklet with the pattern in it.

 

 And this gives an idea of how they looked.

Anyway I wanted to do something more modern and trailed the internet and found this lovely bird pattern  by Lucy on her colourful blog Attic24.

So I made several of these little birdies with cute dangly legs and buttons.

They are hanging now from some wrapped and decorated branches from another, earlier project, which I will tell about another time. The branches are in a vase on the diner table and give a continues happy and colourful display, especially during those dark days and when we don't have real flowers in the house.

Initially I wasn't aware of why I chose to make birds, apart from the fact that they looked cute, but then I realised that somehow they symbolised a kind of ascension. Kiama 'flying up and away', to other realms perhaps...  Interestingly Ilana, my eldest, had started to doodle birds at the same time, so we also wondered if these birds were symbolising a part of our grieving process. Another layer of 'letting go'.

This brings me to another story. Just a couple of weeks before Kiama fell ill she phoned me one day with the question: "Mum, do you have any suggestions on how to catch a bird? I want to catch a bird and then let it go." She told me that it was for a short film, she wanted to make for an art competition, in which she wanted to present the concept of 'letting go'.  Oh the irony of this, as we keep on seeing the signs.... with hind-sight!

Anyway, I never heard anything more about this project until after her death, when one of her friends posted a very short video on her Facebook wall. It showed Kiama laughing and cautiously trying to catch some pigeons at the market place in Norwich. We later also found some journal writing about it and some sketches of birds flying of bicycles.

Responding to her half-Dutch roots Kiama had a love for bicycles and cycling. Many of her art, social and uni projects had to do with bikes. So the sketch on the right is there for even more striking, with the fallen bike and the bird flying up to the sky, especially when you know that it is the last proper sketch in her latest sketchbook!