DAY 02

SATURDAY AT DRUMALIS

We welcomed the rain. Perfect sewing conditions. I had set up the room with my own story in textiles, to share and inspire.
Saturday was the full immersion. The day the cloth speaks and the hands listen. The day the machine becomes a pencil and the fabric is chosen.
I invited the group to feel the fabric. Notice the weave, the drape. Count the colours through the tweed.

The blank piece of fabric was daunting. Where to start? 

I played Enya quitely. I suggested a few exercises from ‘Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain’ by Betty Edwards. A new way of seeing. 
We listened to Jo Andrews’ Haptic and Hue podcast, Series 7, Episode 63 — ‘The Intelligence of the Hands and the Creative Brain.’

Yvonne used free motion embroidery on her Bernina 1008.  Pat sketched the Burren on her Bernette machine. Layering into her landscape of limestone, slashing into the stones to reveal the vibrant native flora. Helen sketched a familar floral scene on her Janome and added shoes made from maps.  A lovely translation of her journey. Fabrics, yarns and threads were shared across the table; beading and needle felting wove their way in.

Lorna used a natural dyed silk scarf as her base, fraying the edges when before she would have cut them neatly. She navigated family roots between County Down, Mayo and Navan.  Anne upscaled and took on the whole island with each county a different colour.  Each day she wore a beautiful dress she had made to match the colours she was using. Karen‘s Ireland immediately took shape when she used her parents curtain fabric as her base. The memories started to roll in.

Lucy explored layers of grey leather and imagined sea urchins from french knots. Janine looked at Ireland through the eyes of the strong warrior Irish women.  Each county had its own fabric, and had a connecting stitch.  Outlined in gold braid and using paint to surround the green with blue water. The colour contrast was striking. Anne approached the theme with a view from her window in County Down.  She used Harris tweed from her mothers offcuts combining silks and leathers.  Using needle point to create the clouds. Selvedges became fields, gold cord became hay fields, and raw silk became ploughed fields. She left threads uncut, ribbons for water flowing outside the edges and embraced the irregularity.

Each member took their own path — and that was exactly what I had wanted to happen.  I moved through the room  — watching, encouraging, demonstrating. After a long day, we sat down our tools and rested. 

By Saturday evening, the room was full of work that had not existed that morning.