​When we last ‘spoke’ I had been knitting / felting wool ribbons from naturally dyed yarn and was working on a 2 or 3 dimensional piece using them with collected branches.  This had to take a back seat after I damaged my knee and have been immobile for 3 weeks – a case of wannabe runner forgetting her age and recent inactivity and unfitness!
Instead I worked on the naturally dyed wool gauze samples and yarn remnants, hand stitching and darning them while I recovered – a strangely appropriate process of slowing down and mending cloth.
While in Japan a few years ago I was fascinated by the Aomori Textile Museum in Tokyo which houses an amazing collection of boro (“rags”) textiles (1) from the Aomori region in North Honshu.  This region was too cold for cotton; only hemp could be grown and the people were incredibly poor.  They used every scrap of hemp they could produce, reusing, mending and layering garments for longevity and warmth. 
 
These Boro exhibits influenced my resultant wall hanging – piecing together and darning layers of gauze produced “of the land” that is local to me.  A week exposed to the elements in my garden has resulted in a further worn and felted look.

Comprised of 2 pieced layers, it is still transparent enough to allow light through and display the seams.  The following 2 photos are detail shots of the ragged holes and darning.  The wet felting that I did myself and that happened naturally outside by the elements has softened and integrated the stitching into the weave further aging the fabric.
The fabric can be hung from the ceiling in space so that both sides are visible.

This arrangement of the material gives a closer link to the boro garments of old.

References:
(1) Yukiko Kiode and Kuoichi Tsuzuki (2008) Boro: Rags and tatters from the far north of Japan, ASPECT Corp, Tokyo, Japan

A few days into UK lockdown, I decided I needed to document this time in a way that was personal and relevant to my life and art practice.  I started a diary of my daily permitted walks around my village and immediate countryside, in search of vegetation with which to naturally dye wool yarn and fabric.  I began to examine these surroundings with new eyes and a greater appreciation of just where I live.  I resolved to work with supplies I already had (feltable undyed DK yarn and wool gauze) or could prepare (alum mordants, copper water and iron water modifiers).
​

​So far I have sampled on my travels 33 different species of plant from tree leaves, flowers and fallen bark generating 69 different coloured samples - approximately the same number of days in lockdown that I have experienced.  You can read the dyeing processes in more detail in previous posts in May on this blog.

​The methodical documenting in my sketchbook has brought back memories of lab book work of a former life allowing for personal reflection as well as a much needed focus in this strange time.  I could have dyed wool roving to felt but I wanted to continue the slow approach so I knitted each yarn before felting. I have often found that as I knit I focus on the sounds around me such that these memories are more intense and, when I return to the work, they return.  I can still look at the elderberry leaf sample and remember the tv programme I was watching!   I chose to create ribbons of felted yarn – symbols of awareness and support.  On many occasions ribbons have been tied to trees and posts as powerful signs of devotion, remembering others.  This seemed fitting given the covid-19 situation.  I am still at the designing stage with these ribbons but ideas of their attachment to branches in a wall or sculptural form are forming.  This arrangement will be haphazard, reflecting the non-conformity of nature to our lockdown constraints.

​I have also begun to darn on the samples of wool gauze with the dyed yarn – an attempt to repair the situation or my personal mark of change left?  I am unsure but certainly like many of us my life will never quite be the same again.