~ Fabrikant ~: research

Friday, August 24, 2012

On the need to make things with my hands

In preparation for my move to Somerset (see previous post) I have resigned from my 'day job', and I am putting together extensive handover notes for my successor. As I work on my own, and as this was a new post when I took it on, the majority of what it's necessary to know to do the job resides only in my head, so it is vitally important that I pass it on in some tangible way. As I have been spending the last couple of weeks (in stray moments between frantically trying to tie up the loose ends and finish off all projects before I leave) thinking about the job in more detail than usual, I have been musing on how I have felt about this kind of work, and why I am so anxious to move on to other things.

It is no secret to those who know me that I have been increasingly unhappy in my 'day job'. Some of the reasons for this are structural - frustrations about the systems, ethos and resourcing of the organisation - and to do with my reaction to those structures; and also the way the workload has expanded to fill my entire week when what I thought I was taking on was a small part time job which would enable me to finish my art course and work as an artist. But for the last eighteen months or so, there has been the realisation of a deeper issue. Looking within myself to find out what makes me tick has been an uncomfortable, disruptive but enlightening experience.

I have come to the conclusion that I have a profound need to make things with my hands. I need to be working in a way that combines the intellectual, the artistic and the practical, and not over-emphasizing any one of them. In learning styles analysis, my preferred learning style is Visual, but with Kinaesthetic coming a strong second - not the profile one would expect for someone with my academic background. My 'day job' has tended not only to be entirely conceptual and abstract, but also to take up so much time and energy that I have been less able to make things. I think it is significant that at times when the job has been particularly stressful, I have felt a particularly strong need to do practical things such as knitting or painting furniture. For me, making has become therapy, healing and wholeness.

Fundamentally, if I am not making things (whether that be art or 'things') I am unhappy. This has been the case since I was a small child. Acknowledging this has been difficult, because in our culture, being educated away from the practical and towards the cerebral is more highly valued, and having achieved that, why on earth would I want to 'go back' to the lowly business of making things?! But however great the satisfaction from being good at my job (and there have been things I have been very proud of doing well in this role), what has been lacking is balance - and until recently enough self-awareness! I cannot know how things will turn out in the next stage of my life, but I must make sure that I do not let any one aspect - academic, artistic, kinaesthetic - take over. Brain, eye and hand must ALL be exercised. Already I am finding that much of my art involves research and historical investigation. When I train as a traditional upholsterer, one element of the assessment will be a paper on the history of furniture design. The freelance work I am hoping to do will be more conceptual and abstract, but should be balanced by more time and energy for the artistic and practical.

I am reading a lot at present about the idea of craftsmanship, critiques of the ideas of the Arts & Crafts movement, Bauhaus etc. When I have a clearer idea of where my thinking fits into all this, I will post further musing. These may of course have some bearing on the contemporary debate about the future of 'vocational' versus 'academic' education, which is again looking to be come a contentious issue.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Research visit to St Fagan's textiles collection - women makers lost in history

Many thanks to Elen Phillips and Sioned Williams, curators at St Fagan's (National History Museum of Wales), for a fascinating and very productive research visit today. I am doing some preparatory work on a piece (which will probably evolve into a collection) of work based on some vintage French linen I have acquired, seeking to tell the hidden story of generations of anonymous women whose only footprint on history is the stitches - embroidery, mending - they have left behind in the textiles they worked on. I am looking to use authentic motifs and techniques in this work, and St Fagan's is definitely the place to go to research this.

The collection is enormous - Elen had selected 6 large archive boxes of samplers, dating from the late 18th to the early 20th centuries, for me to look at, while Sioned brought along a range of domestic linen (including mattress covers, sheets, handkerchief cases and tray cloths), mostly 19th century, from all over Wales. Some of the domestic linen even had letters enclosed in the folds of the fabric, written by the donor and giving the history of the item. A beautiful silk jacquard hand towel (apparently unused) was part of a trousseau given to a 19th century bride in Machynlleth by her father.

I found the experience very moving - many of the samplers were made by very young girls - Mary Ann Baker aged 7 years (19th century), Mary Lewis aged 9 years (1797), Sarah Brigg aged 9 years (18th century), Ruth Davies aged 13 (1855). Some of the samplers in the collection are unfinished, and one in particular pulled me up short: Accession number 41.86/6 Unfinished sampler 19th century. This one has a trailing thread from the last stitch - why was it never finished? What happened to the maker? In a time of high juvenile mortality, did she die before she could finish her sampler? The name of the maker is usually in the lower part of the sampler, and she stopped two-thirds of the way down, so we do not even know her name. I think something from this sampler will have to find its way into my work.

My particular favourites were a blackwork sampler (unfinished) from c1800, and one worked in red threads on linen, also unfinished (this seems to be becoming a theme!) from some time in the 19th century - the motif of oak leaves and acorns centre right is very reminiscent of the National Trust logo!

I'm very grateful to Elen and Sioned for making my visit possible, and I shall definitely be back to do more research in this wonderful collection. I don't think the availability of this fantastic research resource is widely enough known - I know I have only seen the tip of the iceberg, but I was overwhelmed both by the richness of the collection, and the helpfulness of the curators.