Exploring damage with quarter scale blocks

I am having my usual period of doubt and inability to decide where to go with my creative ideas.  Whilst I have been thinking about making a garment with the idea of depicting damage in a creative way to communicate  both fragility and strength, I am now wondering if this is correct direction.

Man's shirt block, Japanese paper and  thread

Man's shirt block, leather and thread

The pattern for the free machine embroidery comes from earlier photos of items around my home that have been damaged and need repairing, a role that Carl once filled and now are left  as a reminder that he is not here. This has a possibility  and is something to explore, maybe take one of his shirts apart, use as a pattern and re make with similar materials as can be seen in these images. I will try and take more photographs of damage and perhaps make a series.

Whilst I do want to to use my sewing machine in this work, I may consider taking it off in a different direction - instead of creating a new garment I might reclaim an old one as inspired by these images of Shelly Goldsmith's work.

Revealing Evidence, Shelly Goldsmith

Inner Storm, Shelly Goldsmith

Ball and Collar, Shelly Goldsmith, 2012

Goldsmith is amongst the foremost textile artists working in the UK at the present time. Her work is a metaphor for life, exploring psychological states, emotions and memories associated with human fragility and loss. In the above images reclaimed clothing has been used to explore these feelings and experiences. Her work also allows us the viewer to consider their own relationship with the world that we inhabit and the residues that we leave behind. How can my work help me to explore my own relationship with damage and repair? How far do I need to go? Do I need to repair it or can I just accept the different form that it is now taking? 

So should I think about pushing the idea of a garment in a different direction - rather than a well constructed garment made with damaged fabrics, should I try to use a reclaimed garment, deconstruct and then delicately repair. Or should I strip it back further and choose poignant parts and incorporate text from the stories of damage and repair.

The Art of Mending

So where to go with my subject damage and repair? Comments are coming in from my small piece of research about feelings associated with breakages. This question was posted on Facebook and placed in the foyer at uni:

For my third year  textile module I am investigating what happens when we brake something. How do we fell? Can we simply throw away what is now lost? Or do we need to repair the pieces and find something new?

I will leave this running for a few more weeks and then look at what I have and decide how to respond to everyones comments. I expect that the things we remember and talk about will have a sentimental or emotional attachment as opposed to concerns about cost or practicalities.

Mending is a process to  repair damage when the object that is broken is still desired: this may be approached in several ways. It may be for practical reasons such as The Beatsters who mended to exist. Women were paid to repair fishing nets that could be 50 metres long and no matter how big the hole they were only paid per net. If the holes were big, the family would have to starve until the repair was made. The pay per net was about 12p

http://www.ourgreatyarmouth.org.uk

But mending is also about making sure that things we cherish / love can continue for just a little longer. Repairing a favourite item of clothing may not just be a cost implication, it might be more about the sense of safety we feel when wearing the item, the story it tells, the places we went and people we met.  

This might also be a reflection on life. The mending can create a map:  Sherri Lynn Wood suggests that this charts an unpredictable, scarred and transformed geography on the surface of her jeans.

 http://daintytime.net

Another  attribution of mending is the creation of something new - something new from something old and this can become a work of art or thing of beauty. Last year I talked about the Japanese art of kintsugi where broken pieces of ceramics are fixed with gold making the imperfect beautiful. This can be seen in these images from Pinterest. The repair has turned the object into a work of art. The marks and threads give a new strength. The first image has a simple beauty and starts the next part of it's journey as we admire the needlework. The second is from Anca Grey, an artist who makes from found objects and has an interest in things being broken. This is quite like some pieces I have been working on - making anew piece of art from something that has been damaged. The final is rather ornate and completely overwhelms the original garment. It is a complete distraction. 

French Mending

Surgery, Anca Grey

Rainy Today, Junko Oki

Mending can also be an experience, a point of communication as the work is repaired. Michael Swaine has turned it into performance art on the streets of San Francisco. Once a month he would sit in the street with his old treadle sewing machine to repair peoples clothes free of charge. People would bring him items that were worn or damaged and have a conversation about anything whilst the repair was made. I love this idea, a social artist at work repairing a hole in a cherished item of clothing - he says it is a place for "fixing the holes in our lives...to borrow thread and sewing machines and talk about life".

And also The Mending Project: this turned the repair of our clothes into performance art at the 18th Biennale of Sydney, 2012. Spools of thread were attached to the wall and an item of damaged clothing would be joined to the end of the thread. The item would be repaired whilst conversation between the owner and artist would continue for approximately 15 minutes. The piece then remained on show until the end of the Biennale after which it was collected: the damage had been repaired and was now a work of art in its own right as can be seen in these pictures:

Lee Mingwei

Lee Mingwei

Our attachments to  objects is obvious; how we feel when they are damaged will depend on the memories they provide - the places we visited or the people who they once belonged to. But also, it may just be their beauty or function, but what is interesting is how we feel when the break happens. But then, what we do with the pieces that are left.

Getting started...

We had our first group crit today at uni so thought I should just try and some up some of the points raised and think about where this project can really get started.

Thinking about my questions in my last post I have decided to start a small piece of research at uni, friends on Facebook, email and my new local 'Bromley Heath WI'

What happens when we break something? How do we feel? Do we need to repair or recycle the broken pieces? Or are we pleased that it is gone?

Whilst I wait for the comments to start coming in I have been around my house taking photos of all the things that have been broken by my family. For example

Broken flush

broken architrave

Hole in the stair carpet

Wall bashed by door handle

My leaky new tap !!!!

How do I feel - cross that I have so many things to fix made worse because some of these repair jobs are out of my remit and even they weren't, I have very little time to try and make the necessary repairs.

These are some basic items from the home and does not include the sentimental items such as my flower vase that the boys bought for me on the first mothers day after Carl died; the bedroom lamp hat was part of a well loved pair: and a large collection of plates and glasses that were sat on the breakfast bar waiting to go away - one powerful football sent flying into the kitchen on the foot of a fourteen year old. On each occasion I felt really cross, overly so which I am reminded of by my son. My responses have probably caused more harm and been more memorable than what was actually broke.  So why such powerful feelings? To help explore of these questions I decided to start by making some free machine embroidered drawings on calico - the breakages that are real at the moment and not just a pile of pieces long since lost in the bin. As the breakages transferred into stitch I realised that this was going to be yet another exploration of what makes me me? What makes me produce work in order to try and understand elements of human emotion - and to be honest, it may just be a parody for what has happened to my family - repairing our damaged lives after loss - through the exploration of human emotions when material things become broken. 

Broken Architrave

Our Dripping Tap

Damage and Repair

I was on quite a roll at the end of last year, so many ideas and techniques tried such as drawing on felt, calico and free machine embroidery from direct observation onto dissolvable fabric. I burnt fabric and repaired the  holes with embroidery, and created something new from the damage. So now, where to take this? 

When things are damaged we either decide to just throw them away, try to repair or recycle. Whilst visiting the Ashmolean Museum, OxfordI, at the weekend I  read a thoughtful Swedish proverb that was included in an exhibition about conservation  -

 'What breaks in a moment may take years to mend'

Crockery and glasses get dropped and the damaged in seconds whilst stone statues and heavy bronze basins (Asmolean Museum) will take years to decay. Lives can be taken in seconds or disease can cause a slow deterioration in our daily actions but what is common to all is our desire to try and mend: mend a broken heart after a death or meticulously put a china pot back together.  But how can successful this can be will depend on how we view the damage: how much we need it to be back together again and how much we can manage to make do with what we have left. 

Museums can often be left with a similar dilemma - to conserve and restore or just preserve in the state the artefact is now in. Traditionally conservators aimed to enhance the damage and alter the objects or paintings that they were working with.  This might be true of the Sistene Chapel in Rome when layers of dirt, grime and candle smoke were removed and revealed unexpected bright colours. However, it has been suggested that Michelangelo had not intended that to be the case; Bob Dugan (1) supports the argument that it was not intended to be bright - Michelangelo had painted subdued colours. The conservators had  also removed the protective layer and left the Sistene Chapel opened to the elements - attacked by the humidity caused by the large number of daily visitors. Likewise was the question of wether or not to repair the broken arm of the Venous de Milo. 

Before and after, Sistene Chapel

The Asmolean also had some some examples of copper bowls that had been cleaned in an attempt to remove the corrosion - a porous surface was left with holes where no solid metal remained. The bowl on the right has not been touched - evidence of the past is preserved in the corrosion.

So questions for me to start thinking about:

- Damage that has happened, does it need to be repaired?  Will it be an improvement?

- Is a an ugly part of somethings history as much a part of the story as what is genuine and original?

- What about the new patterns, pieces and shapes that were once the object, the life - can they now take on a new role? New purpose?

1 - http://bigthink.com/Picture-This/did-the-vatican-ruin-the-sistine-chapel-frescoes

An Introduction for year three...

I am now at the start of my final year at Bath Spa University: this will be spread over two years as I continue part-time because I also work two days a week as a Midwife and take care of  my two sons. Last year ended really well (81% and 83% for my two modules)  but with work now being thrown into the mix and an impending degree show, what will happen? 

First, a few images from last year :

Now untitled

'We Should Smile More...'

These images were part of a series of work that explored my need to be perfect: free machine embroidery drawn for direct observation onto dissolvable fabric. Whilst every effort was made to draw well, stitches were not corrected once made and the removal of the backing fabric on completion of the work left the drawing to find it's own shape. An amount of fear would be evident as I lost control over my work and the threads became themselves without their support. How would I feel about the final result? Perfect, not perfect; which was best and which would I accept? 

Still unanswered, this project has now been moved to my Art module because  the idea of perfection is such an exciting area of investigation.

The other area that I worked with last year was the idea of 'Damage and Repair' as seen in these images...

This project was based on another personal subject - trying to repair damaged lives after the death of my husband (see  Art and Textiles blog - The Heart of It). Perhaps both subjects are intrinsically linked but I think they are both equally weighty elements worthy of separate discussion and investigation. 

Trying to repair the damage caused by Carls death has led me up the path of trying to be perfect, trying to be a dad and a mother at the same time whilst making sure that my degree is a worthy investment of my limited time. But is a flawless repair necessary, can we not just make the best of what we now have? Perhaps the cracks and fragmented pieces can have a  new identity, one that does not forget the past but makes the best of what we now have. And maybe some of these newly created shapes will show a greater beauty and appreciation.