On the Brink, the Tensity of Change Exhibition Label

Turncoat: Conversation Piece: Nature’s gift of regeneration, 2015, wedded sari silk

Materials, merino and silk fibres, silk rods, mulberry bark, wool yarn, recycled silk saris, and other donated recycled miscellany, donated polyurethane cast fox bones, silk and rayon embroidery threads

My piece for the exhibition derives from a conversation among several local women & one bloke, regarding living in the Dandenongs, and the changes experienced sometimes over a thirty year period.  I lived in Kalorama myself over twenty years ago but then left to re-establish myself overseas.  I realized that I spent my whole time here (almost 7 years) living in fear.  I found the forest dark and foreboding but really there was no rational explanation for my fear. You can’t live with ‘tensity’ in an environment because you don’t feel at home. Eventually for peace of mind, you need to move away. To live in the Dandenongs you need to mitigate your love for the environment with fears against trees falling on your house and you, the place being razed by fire, the wind roaring like a steam engine buffeting and causing falling debris to bash your house.  And if you chop down or ring bark the trees, you’ll have land slippage with which to deal and find that may cause an entire tree to fall on your house.  I saw it happen up the road and the tree fell uphill. People have been living with these concerns since the time the Dandenongs was settled.  I also needed to fit the theme within the overall objectives of my work, and I’ve wanted to do a wearable piece based on Fred Williams’ paintings for some time now.  Williams lived in Upwey during 1968 when the Dandenongs were ablaze.  The Dandenongs show a pattern of going up in flames every ten years or so.  Fortuitously, Williams’ experience has also informed the conversation.

Allusion to a Fred Williams' painting of Upwey ablaze (fibres soft)

Fibres felted, with fox bones cast in polyurethane by Elaine Pullum

As a way into the conversation I asked invitees to bring along a piece of fabric or garment with associations to change and also something or remnant of, they’d be willing to part with to be incorporated into the felt.  Because most of the participants were women I was shown and given items such as a tea cosy, doilies, fabric used in women’s rituals, and to make baby slings.  I felt that they were very feminine items and most ordinary – the very special ones brought to show and tell by Sue were too special to part with.  To be given things associated with women’s work, handiwork, with how women pass the time (or did so in the past) or collected for their hope chests were both technically and conceptually challenging.  However, working with these as my raw materials I not only came to a renewed appreciation of the handiwork, but it also illuminated the reasons that I’m drawn to fibre and wearables.  For the very reasons that it is in general woman’s domain, women’s work (well unless you consider that some men are also fashion divas and my father made clothes), because my hand or touch, even my body, is intrinsically part of its making. Not to be overlooked is that these sorts of textiles, including my own work, are generally located outside the mainstream.

Donated materials which included a tea cosy and natting

Pre-felt was made with the donated materials

Seedlings cut from pre-felt

Observations, experiences, memories that came out of the conversation are written in the work.  I do like to incorporate stories and words into my textiles and find this quite a challenge to do with felt, as it’s so resistant to most ink and paint.  So I’ve taught myself to write with my sewing machine and with each piece my skill increases, though it remains imperfect – as imperfect as my handwriting. Since I have difficulty marking the felt fabric, I usually write freestyle using the machine needle.  In my laziness (and to experiment with effect), I have also had words printed onto fabric that I have felted in.  But the ruching that occurs in the felting tends to ruin the ‘neatness’ of the text.  It in fact distorts the text, which I don’t mind, as even memory can distort how something was actually experienced. In this instance too, because the fabric upon which the text was printed is polyester, it’s tended not to ruche as usual, though felted in.  Stitching as Rozsita Parker shows us in her brilliant anthropological study The Subversive Stitch, has since the 17th century, often been used by women in their samplers to subvert, express dissent, and their individuality.  Stitching/embroidery are feminine but also feminist.  Like those earlier samplers you may need your magnifying glass to read and decipher some of the words I’ve written on the Turncoat.

It’s interesting to notice what draws you to a particular medium. What makes me work with textiles and in particular fibre? What makes me single out wearables?  I suppose here the answer is that it feels so good (there’s a feeling of well-being) to wrap yourself in a felted garment and it’s also more intimate.  How unique to also be able to wear your story and memoir, like second skin.  I could just have easily done a piece to stretch over canvas and viewed as a picture but you’d be less likely to want to touch it and it would confine it to the gallery wall, or any other sort of wall.  Felt usually begs to want to be touched, tried on and that’s part of its aesthetic.

Conceptually, because of the narratives shared during the conversation my piece subverts the theme of the exhibition.  It is not about tension, tensity, or of living on the brink.  But about accepting the gift that can come about through change. It is about women building community, how community was built around a conversation about change – but it could have been any topic. The garment has three sections – innocence (hood); experience (the arms or shawl); revaluation (back). Innocence, encapsulates the reasons for moving to the Dandenongs, my favourite being ‘I swapped the system’s slave for art’, or ‘I moved for the trees and forest’, 'to find community'… Experience is about discovering your beautiful sanctuary can also be menacing; and revaluation/regeneration, considers that there are positives to extract from the ashes. For me living in the Dandenongs the second time around, it is about feeling at home, releasing the tension.

The sole man who attended the conversation (I did invite a couple) had been raised by his mother and was comfortable among women.  He added a different dimension, not only in the X-Rays shared digitally, which I had printed onto fabric but as well, in the moral of his story regarding change (X-Rays of his broken hip.).    He spoke about the gift of a broken hip, not derived from motorbikes or his other daredevilry activities, but ironically, through falling off a stool - a gift that began a journey of spiritual awakening. Having survived bush fire, Fred Williams was taken by the regeneration after the fire.  In his paintings he showed the visible scars but also new life rising from the ashes. 

What about those bones you may ask? – I’m fascinated with bones excavated on TV shows like Time Team and History Cold Case and the harking back regardless of the centuries of change and because of change in technology we can have such brilliant insight into the past. There are there in Williams' evocation of a devastated landscape.  The dead and bare anatomy of trees that at most times regenerate with dazzling and eerily colourful foliage. The dead have a way of coming back to life to touch us, to inform us. 

Bones tell of our mortality and they are a great leveler.  Also these could be the bones of contention.  I’m not denying climate change, but I/we who participated in the conversation also point out earth’s resilience.  We may kill ourselves off, or we may through our intelligence, and coming together for conversation discover ways to save ourselves.  The planet will recover – in different form and perhaps with different life forms.

Postscript. Only 100 words are permitted for the exhibition label at Burrinja to provide a context for viewing.  Some of the artists find it too much, whereas I find it difficult to say in under 100 words what my piece is about - because there are so many layers. Feel free to inform me what you think this garment is about.  Special thanks to Lyn Forrest who donated the tea cosy, that became the seed pods, and who also suggested the title 'turncoat'.      

Public Presentation as a Studio Artist

I look forward to sharing my studio space with the visitor and explaining how felt comes together from the raw materials to the finished item.  People are curious about how felt is made. This year I gave a demonstration of Nuno felting, and offered a small workshop experience of felting a vessel. Opening my workshop is an opportunity to step away from what is sometimes a place I hole up in, blinkered, focused on making, a solipsistic experience, albeit as an artist I can say I’m interacting with ideas and materials, as well as suppliers. 

The mini workshop was nice and cozy – six people had booked in to experience using a potato as a form to felt a small vessel.  I had in mind that it was to be a foundation they could build on if they chose to go on with felting.  I started one to show how to go about it (how to lay the merino fibres correctly).  A couple of visitors came in late (because of a flat tyre), and one of the ladies really wanted to join in, so I relinquished the one I was making and gave her the hands on experience. 

Felt seems to give people a warm and fuzzy feeling – working with it, looking at it, touching the fibres.  It was raining outside and we were snug inside, most of the group coming to terms with handling merino fibres for the first time.  A neighbour who had dropped by to have a peep and was corralled into the workshop experience, suggested that I could hold felting parties for groups of youths. It’s certainly an interesting concept.   

Open Studio 2014
Sunday workshop participants showing their finished vessels

When visitors provide feedback about my work it is also a buzz.  People have made comments like ‘you give felt a good name’ or ‘there’s a lot of felt out there but this here is the good stuff.’  I got to hear about someone’s experience visiting the group exhibition at Burrinja and trying to find my work.  Some people go to see specific works and are interested in particular artists. One visitor even indicated that she had Googled me before coming.  There are many ways to show or express encouragement and appreciation, not just through purchase.

But  I have also learned that it’s pleasant to walk away with a small memento, and so this year I had smaller gift items on offer.  I also offered a felted prize for signing the visitor’s book (which seems like a chore, particularly if the visitor has been to several studios).  My winner had purchased several of my felted cards, which she put together in a photo frame as an ‘artistic landscape’.  She told me this after I contacted her about winning my draw of names out of a hat.

I had originally made a long piece as a landscape (an experiment of sorts about how certain materials would felt) and then cut it up for cards, inserting each cut piece in a picture window card mount.  I was pleased with the effect and would have liked to put them back together again in a frame as a landscape; and it was serendipity that K had decided to do that with the cards that she bought…

Each year is a learning curve.

The learning I got this year was in relation to ‘presentation’.  When the photographer visits a few months before I’ve usually done a bit of tidying up but my studio is set up for working rather than presentation or showcasing my work.  It is certainly not clean, tidy and glamorous with all the colour of my works displayed as it appears during the open weekend.

Photographer's shot
of my not so sexy table top

The photographer has remarked that my equipment can be boring and untidy (pool bubble, noodle and foot massager and he wanted these things out of the way for a shot) and I understand –printing ink and press, or an easel and paint smeared palette are definitely sexier. 

But with the bubble wrap and noodle cleared from view what is also lost is the surprise and cleverness of felt making in the ordinary tools that have been adapted for the purpose. And of course – there are my hands too, with cracked and chipped fingernails. I make it all by hand after all.   

When the photographer visits next year I either need to glam my studio as though it’s for the open days, or make more of the fun videos/photos.  Imagine a studio shot with me holding a pool noodle!

The latter might depend on (partner) Philip, as he’s the one with the ideas when it comes to the camera.   I liked that he videotaped and shared on Facebook how the experience of visiting my studio would be, from coming down The Lane following the trail of balloons he’d tied moments before, to opening the studio door and finding me preparing for my demo. It was as though I had international visitors who all got a chance for peekaboo.  And they seemed to enjoy it – people from overseas shared and encouraged those they knew in Melbourne to visit.

The virtual experience is not entirely the same (because you haven’t got that body in space experience and you can’t touch or try on) but it whets the visual appetite.  My work is so visually tantalizing with all the colours and textures that it draws the visitor in.  First reactions are usually with regards to colour – and also touch (superfine merino and silk is unusually soft). I wanted to give the visitor a finding ‘treasure’ experience – with an explosion of colour and textures and at first I considered using an old chest for display but in the end I opted for a kaleidoscope of colour upon rods and an (accidental) clothes horse, as greeting.  It’s challenging to come up with ways to display felt scarves and wraps that doesn’t give too much of a shop feel, because you are stepping into my studio and not a shop after all. 

In 2013, the first year I opened my studio to the public I felt overwhelmed with the amount of visitors.  This year the inclement weather may have kept people away but  I enjoyed the slower pace and that I got a chance to ‘receive’ everyone who called in and chat and show and tell.  I feel dismay when people walk in and out and I haven’t had a chance to even say hello and welcome. 

I’ve been asked whether it’s worthwhile and ‘was it a success’?  I’d answer in the affirmative to both questions.  Artists don’t just need the opportunity to make an income (which is one of the objectives of the Open Studios program) but they also need the social interaction with other people.  We need to educate the public about what it is we make, how we make, and perhaps what calls us to making – only then will there be a greater appreciation of our contributions to the community. 

We’re often told to ‘get a real job’ and making is a real job, even though artists’ incomes don’t often reflect the ‘real’ or enable us to survive in the real world. Consequently, many of us continue to make, as a hobby.  I don’t know what the answer is – as consumers, some of us don’t think twice about spending a couple of hundreds of dollars to have our hair done or invest in that new tech gadget but when it comes to buying something handmade or a work of art, we fluff around about it and in the end decide to head down to wherever it is we can get a bargain rather than invest in arts and crafts.  Encountering this sort of attitude is tough and often depressing.  I would like the consumer to think of one of my felted pieces as being an investment – something they may spend several hundreds of dollars to buy but will wear for the next decade or so, and if they grow tired of it, can pass down to someone else to enjoy.  My felted garments and accessories are not made to be disposables, and if looked after properly, can endure for a long time.  As a maker I invest in research and experimenting, which enables me to make good felt and ‘give felt a good name’. 

A hearty thank you is owed to Burrinja Cultural Centre for supporting the program and enabling artists in the Dandenong Ranges to interact with and educate the community ; ‘present’ who they are and what they do; and even on occasion, earn some bucks, all without having to leave their studios.  

Open Studios Tension Exhibition 2013 - "Ten Fabrics Gathering"

Tension Exhibition 2013 - "Ten Fabrics Gathering"

Last April (2013) I participated in the Open Studios in the Dandenong Ranges program where 35 artists’ studios opened for one weekend.  The artists also contribute to a group exhibition whose theme was ‘Tension’ punned around the fact that the program was in its tenth year.  Open Studios is co-sponsored by Yarra Ranges Council and Burrinja Gallery and all the artists' pieces were on exhibition for four weeks.  The visitor was encouraged to start their tour of the open studios from the gallery, take in the group exhibition, and enjoy a coffee at the café while planning their route through the Dandenongs.

To coincide with the program I decided to ‘open’ my studio in the making of my ‘Tension’ piece, which naturally is executed in Nuno felt, by treating you to a series of six videos of its making. 

Part 1 is shown here and if you would like to see the full series you may do so by following the information below.  (Note: the videos are named "Nuno Felt Semi Circular Wrap as I didn't have the "Ten Fabrics Gathering" label when recording them.)

Access to Parts 2-5 Plus Video Extra

I love making my Nuno pieces and I have invested heavily in buying books, trying different processes and learning tips and techniques along the way. The video above is part 1 of a five part collection plus an additional helpful tip video.

It takes some time to plan, create and produce a video for your enjoyment and information. Originally, Parts 2-6 required purchase.  But I've recently decided to make them freely available on YouTube.  Thanks for your interest in my work. 

Happy viewing, Joni

Open Studios in the Dandenong Ranges