Patchwork Object

Items

• A love letter to Rosa Flach: My Oma
  A love letter to Rosa Flach My Oma Born 1894 The bloomers from your dowry, never worn, transformed into thirty napkins. Your childhood initials stitched in every corner. My granddad’s jumper unraveled the wool steamed and straightened out, transformed into three knitted jackets. Wrapped in paper under the Christmas tree for us to open. Your ebonised table in the corner of your room. Little fingers tracing Moorish geometry. The magic of the carved wood on every surface. How did a young woman get to make such a wondrous thing? Did you have to fight for letting your imagination fly?
• A REPOSITORY OF MEMORIES
  A REPOSITORY OF MEMORIES I have always regarded windows to be more than visual portals that connect the inside-outside domains. For me they also serve as thresholds to my subconsciousness, transporting me from the ‘present,’ to a moment in time --- portals that allow access to a repository of memories. As I begin to contemplate the origins of my own creativity, I am compelled to travel down memory lane in search of moments that have nurtured me. My layered narrative of framed views, takes me to the window of my childhood home in Rawalpindi. Growing up, I was surrounded by women who relentlessly pursued various creative endeavours. For some it was by way of taking care of their families, and some did so to make a modest living, while for others it provided a sense of refuge from their stressful lives. As memory frames begin to merge, I recollect my father’s prolific gardening in the hills of Changla Gali. Teaching us, my siblings and I, when to prune and replant, how to protect seedlings from frostbite and snow. Year after year those hills have continued to bloom with daisies, hydrangeas, lilies and roses. Drastically different, in terrain and climate, I too have a thriving garden in tropical Manila. My backyard is a testament to my father’s teachings on the art of gardening. There is no shortage of these treasured memories, elements of which form part of this fabric collage. A 10x10 cm portal capturing part-recollections of deeply embedded moments, that are integral to my creative identity. Though individual in existence, my singularity is firmly rooted in the collective, creative identities, spanning generations and genders.
• Abduction
  Double-layered cyanotype photographs toned with tea on cotton; toned cyanotype on silk Abduction We agreed that lover’s locks left on bridges were a plague on good taste, but there we were: happy-tipsy on Florence’s Ponte Vecchio. We thought it a laugh when I pulled the small padlock from my camera bag. You borrowed a waterproof black marker from another couple. We squeezed our lock in with hundreds of others beneath the statue of sculptor Benvenuto Cellini. Off the bridge, we rounded the corner, hand in hand. We stopped. There was Cellini’s sculpture of a smug Perseus, sword in one hand, the bloody head of the snake-haired Medusa in the other. There was Giambologna’s sculpture of a woman struggling in her abductor’s arms. Lovers, smug in their bright cocoon, are blind to irony.
• Be//longing
  Be//longing A Window to My Home Where is my home? Where do I belong? I have been asking myself this question time and time again, and somwhere trying to find myself I learned that if there is any, it's inside me. Home means more than a place to me, it offers a feeling that is hidden in the rhythm and movement of life. Needlework is that window in my home sitting by which, I understood the feeling of being timeless in form and function, in getting lost with the cluster of lines diving the time between past, present and future. I always tend to capture myself in a conversation, a shared language with the threads where I can create an identity for myself and yet time stops when I am sitting by that window with my story wrapped within these stitches, consumed by the rhythms of connecting and unraveling someting so intimate. The quietness of the act allows me to slow down and open myself to the universe. The feeling of holding a thread has a lot of warmth to offer and it has only give me that. So, I paint my journey through these threads, traveling through the lines of anxiety and stability constantly, finding myself a home.
• Bi Ama’s Sewing Book
  Bi Ama’s Sewing Book Just as I was about to send my completed projects for this exhibition, my cousin and aunt shared a remarkable find - my paternal great-grandmother’s sewing book. Bi Ama, as she was lovingly referred to by all, passed away in 1979, when I was about a year-and-a-half old. I have no memory of meeting her, but seeing these images of pages from her sewing manual, I wanted to reverse time. I wish I could travel back to spend a while with her. These visuals tug at my heart and stir deep emotions within. Each page beautifully written in the Urdu script contains individual instructions for different sewing projects. Some additionally have design samplers sewn to one corner of the page. Bi Ama had seven children - my grandfather and his siblings - so she likely stitched and knitted items of clothing for each of them. Thoughts and questions consume my mind: At what point in her lifetime, did she compile this instruction book? Who did she learn from? Was it out of necessity or did she enjoy making things? How often did she sew? Did she have a stitching corner, or a favourite chair? Did she stitch alone or in the company of others? How did her hands move as the needle pierced the cloth making way for thread work? And on and on and on… it keeps going. The questions do not stop as the answers do not follow. This piece is dedicated to the memory of Bi Ama, her sewing book, and a lineage of creative women I am so fortunate to belong to.
• Dieback
  cyanotype photograph on cotton Dieback (after e e cummings) the leaping greenly spirits of trees speak a leaf language, a susurration which is lungful, which is air, which is yes now the ears of my ears awake to the resinous hiss of the burning pine which is trial, which is fire, which is resurrection now the ears of my ears awake to the tin tremor of the aspen’s silver-bottomed leaves which is memory, which is mourning, which is melancholia now the ears of my ears awake to the window scratch of the diseased ash which is rattle, which is hum, which is future
• From Here to Here
  From Here to Here This artwork narrates the story of my brother and me, intricately embroidered to reflect our shared lives. Despite the miles separating us, it evokes the sense of belonging and warmth we have always felt. Over time, though different in many ways, we have both pursued and accomplished the dreams our parents held for us, navigating the challenges inherent in our choices. We have blossomed into beautiful individuals (LOTUS), embodying an unwavering faith to never give up. Started somewhere with somehting else in the heart, took some wrong turns with a different intention in mind, but ended up becoming the versions of our parents' dreams. The people who came, those who stayed and those who left, taught us each lesson to keep rowing till the end. Together we sail the depths of life facing the hurricanes that block our sight. With a life cycle like no other plant, with its roots latched in mud, it submerges every night into the river water miraculously re-blooming the next morning. With a fascinating will to live and unwavering faith, the lotus refuses to accept defeat ensuring the most beautiful revivals.
• Fruitpicking
  Double-layered cyanotype photographs on cotton and on silk, red embroidery thread, beeswax Fruitpicking That winter in the orchard cottage, they folded together under cobalt night and passed, in dreams, from this world to that. Then, came picking season, and things changed: One could no longer share the night’s echoes of the day’s words, could no longer tolerate the tyrannical metronome of the other’s heartbeat. One’s skin thickened, like a lemon left hanging, while the other’s grew thinner, and, like a cherry skin at the height of summer, threatened to burst into a fleshwound at the slightest touch.
• Intersections
  Titled 'Intersections', this is a collaborative piece that brings together a mother and a daughter's craft practices. Within a square of textile, my acquired skill of Pojagi (a Korean patchwork technique) meets miniature crochet - a skill my mother is exceedling good at. While both the techniques are painstaking and entail elaborate lengths of time and labour, they also stand in distinction in interesting ways. For instance, while pojagi is defined along straight lines, crochet is defined by its curvilinear lines. The piece also bespeaks inheritance and legacy of craft - how my skills are not mine but transmitted from my mother to me which I later adapt to another technique that I learnt anew, in this case, pojagi.
• LABURNUM LOVE
  LABURNUM LOVE This patchwork piece is dedicated to the memory of my beloved mother, Amma, whose inherent creativity led my siblings and I, to experiment and follow our own creative passions. Our mother always took out the time to pursue hobbies – photography, painting, sewing, sports, gardening, the list goes on. Though it is impossible to capture the entirety of her creative soul, this piece does embody some of her spirit. I grew up in a family that was committed to living with the firm belief of ‘no-wastage’ in every facet of life. One of the many manifestations of this silently ingrained way of living, led my mother and grandma to save every scrap of clothing from their sewing projects. And I am no different. Amma could always produce something out of seemingly nothing. By seeing her navigate life, I learnt (amongst many things) that creativity could be expressed as well with ‘left-overs’, as with new things. Astute observation, attention to detail, trusting the process and making the most of what one has, was important and would always yield a meaningful outcome. It was she who taught me how to sew on the very machine (that was originally hers and quite possibly a hand-me-down) which I inherited and have been using for all my patchwork pursuits. Representing the invisible thread that ties generational ideas and beliefs, this patchwork is a combination of ‘left-overs’ from Amma’s clothes, and the bunches of dangling yellow flowers were her laburnum love. Trees that lined the street, taking us home. - Parts of this writing are from a previously written piece for a quilting project that I made in memory of my mother.
• Patch by Alexandra
  My mother painted the headboard of my childhood bed and stationed it at the very top of a rundown house in Bradford-on-Avon, the creaky stairs littered with roly polies. On the days that I didn’t cry and ask to be carried up, I would race to bed and couch myself under Edward Lear’s lines: Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. The lines were built into the painting of a green-faced woman, eyes bright in the sea spray, sitting atop a sieve, and in those moments, that bed became my sieve-y sanctuary. There are two tapestries in my parents' library that are scenes of the The Lady and the Unicorn. My grandmother made cross-stitches that I profess to be my first introduction to the Pre-Raphaelites, though I don’t know where these are now or if they were a product of my imagination. But the perfectly crafted diptych of a woman, standing tall, in a magical grove, remains. Sometimes I wonder if my siblings and I are the Rossetti children reincarnated and every time I reread Christina Rossetti’s “Goblin Market” it takes on new meaning. I like Victorian art a lot, but now I like the work of Howardena Pindell and Rosie Wylie even more. As an adult, I sense the profound affect that the design and craft of women has had on my aesthetic imagination, and that I still reach toward it in my professional and personal life. So, the lines “far and few” mean to me the preciousness inherent in the simplest acts of making; that rare kind of aesthetic love that permeates your imagination and stays with you all your life long. That, to me, is an especial quality preserved by the creative ephemera cultured by the women in my family – that which is precious.
• Patch by Alexandra and Unrecorded Maker(s)
  This patch was made during the "Patchwork and Creativity Workshop", held in Cambridge, UK on 19 and 20 September, 2024. This two-day workshop used the theme of “Patchwork and Creativity” to prompt conversations about modes of being and knowing that emphasise the collaborative, the collective, the non-linear, and the potentially deconstructive or resistant forms of creativity that have not historically been privileged by Western art histories. During this workshop, participants were invited to co-create patches with one another. Participants were given access to pre-cut material and art supplies and a brief introduction to the Patchwork Object Project. They were then invited to mark the patch in any way that they felt inspired to. At three points during the workshop, participants swapped patches and continued working on patches worked on by others. Afterwards, participants were invited to identify which patches they contributed to; some participants chose to do this, some participants chose to remain an 'unrecorded maker'. We chose to use the term ‘unrecorded maker’, rather than the more common ‘anonymous’ or ‘maker unknown’ following discussion during the workshop around the fact that many women’s contributions to art and craft work, particularly work that was collaboratively made, was not unknown in its time, just not acknowledged or recorded by history.
• Patch by Alexandra and Unrecorded Maker(s)
  This patch was made during the "Patchwork and Creativity Workshop", held in Cambridge, UK on 19 and 20 September, 2024. This two-day workshop used the theme of “Patchwork and Creativity” to prompt conversations about modes of being and knowing that emphasise the collaborative, the collective, the non-linear, and the potentially deconstructive or resistant forms of creativity that have not historically been privileged by Western art histories. During this workshop, participants were invited to co-create patches with one another. Participants were given access to pre-cut material and art supplies and a brief introduction to the Patchwork Object Project. They were then invited to mark the patch in any way that they felt inspired to. At three points during the workshop, participants swapped patches and continued working on patches worked on by others. Afterwards, participants were invited to identify which patches they contributed to; some participants chose to do this, some participants chose to remain an 'unrecorded maker'. We chose to use the term ‘unrecorded maker’, rather than the more common ‘anonymous’ or ‘maker unknown’ following discussion during the workshop around the fact that many women’s contributions to art and craft work, particularly work that was collaboratively made, was not unknown in its time, just not acknowledged or recorded by history.
• Patch by Alexandra, Ruth, and Unrecorded Maker(s)
  This patch was made during the "Patchwork and Creativity Workshop", held in Cambridge, UK on 19 and 20 September, 2024. This two-day workshop used the theme of “Patchwork and Creativity” to prompt conversations about modes of being and knowing that emphasise the collaborative, the collective, the non-linear, and the potentially deconstructive or resistant forms of creativity that have not historically been privileged by Western art histories. During this workshop, participants were invited to co-create patches with one another. Participants were given access to pre-cut material and art supplies and a brief introduction to the Patchwork Object Project. They were then invited to mark the patch in any way that they felt inspired to. At three points during the workshop, participants swapped patches and continued working on patches worked on by others. Afterwards, participants were invited to identify which patches they contributed to; some participants chose to do this, some participants chose to remain an 'unrecorded maker'. We chose to use the term ‘unrecorded maker’, rather than the more common ‘anonymous’ or ‘maker unknown’ following discussion during the workshop around the fact that many women’s contributions to art and craft work, particularly work that was collaboratively made, was not unknown in its time, just not acknowledged or recorded by history.
• Patch by Alice and Unrecorded Maker(s)
  This patch was made during the "Patchwork and Creativity Workshop", held in Cambridge, UK on 19 and 20 September, 2024. This two-day workshop used the theme of “Patchwork and Creativity” to prompt conversations about modes of being and knowing that emphasise the collaborative, the collective, the non-linear, and the potentially deconstructive or resistant forms of creativity that have not historically been privileged by Western art histories. During this workshop, participants were invited to co-create patches with one another. Participants were given access to pre-cut material and art supplies and a brief introduction to the Patchwork Object Project. They were then invited to mark the patch in any way that they felt inspired to. At three points during the workshop, participants swapped patches and continued working on patches worked on by others. Afterwards, participants were invited to identify which patches they contributed to; some participants chose to do this, some participants chose to remain an 'unrecorded maker'. We chose to use the term ‘unrecorded maker’, rather than the more common ‘anonymous’ or ‘maker unknown’ following discussion during the workshop around the fact that many women’s contributions to art and craft work, particularly work that was collaboratively made, was not unknown in its time, just not acknowledged or recorded by history.
• Patch by Ann
  What an interesting project! I liked making things from a very young age and years on. My mother let me be in charge of Christmas decorations etc and in a craft shop she would buy anything I thought I might need. - She would knit all the vests and tops and shorts for me my sister and my three brothers - usually all in the same colour so she could spot us all on the beach... - Then the family fortunes changed and she had to go out to work so I took on the job to knit for the family. I used to persuade a brother to walk in front of me so that I could knit as we walked along - we lived in the country 2 1/2 miles from school. - In my teens I knitted a very complicated jacket for my Mother as a Christmas present - a collar with a mitered edge and inset pockets! At teacher training college I realised you could knit schulptural things. I knitted pillars and boats and lamp shades and fun designs to frame and put on the wall - houses and views etc and then on to abstracts first enjoying the colours and textures. This little sample includes mixed yarns or dyed yarns including wool, mohair, cotton, metalised (wrong word) and acrilic based on an original design of wool shop shelves where the wool is stored for sale. That design was a silk painting of squares in outline and many shades of the same colours in each square - mine actually and from there just circles floating...
• Patch by Anna
  This piece is typical of the way that I currently work with stitch and collage. The paper background is taken from collaged images in a series of sketchbooks that I have been working with for about thirty-five years. I do very little ‘sketching’ in my sketchbooks, but use them as a way of storing found images I want to keep. Sometimes they are saved just for the colour, sometimes the images are chopped up and reassembled into grids or abstract montages. This forms the foundation for the stitches, and dictates the colours used in any individual piece. Colour is everything to me, not just in my creative work, but in how I experience day-to-day life. The stitching is the part I love most of all. I’ve found that blanket stitch works as a flexible building block, a simple, practical stitch that creates line and structure. The colours of the background interact with the stitches, inviting the eye to wander around the piece. Stitching feels like a fundamentally feminine creative process, historically practical, but also beautiful. Portable and easily worked on during ‘in between’ gaps in daily activities. The colours used here are those of a domestic space: my kitchen. I have come to realise that this making and stitching is something that connects me not only with my mother, and her mother – women for whom sewing and colour were such a source of pleasure. But it connects me to a community of makers, known and unknown, stretching back through time and across the world. So much skill, history, and beauty is contained in the act of working with a needle, and this is me, in the present, stitching.
• Patch by Anne
  This patch is inspired by Joanna Southcott, the Devonshire prophetess. She grew from humble beginnings to having worldwide followers. She believed herself capable of supernatural powers and the ability to prophecy the Day of Judgement. At the age of 64 she believed herself to be pregnant with the new messiah who never appeared. She died not long after. Although in my opinion she was misguided in her beliefs you have to admire her tenacity and cunning? Southcott left a sealed wooden casket of her prophecies, with strict instructions to open it only at a time of national crisis and in the presence of all the bishops of the Church of England. The box is still sealed! Two patchwork quilts that she is reputed to have made remain in the museum in Exeter. They contain secret symbols and curses against the then King, George III. Her name is embroidered with her own hair. Sometime ago I saw @slowunravelling (Julie Bancroft) a call out for her External Partner Project: Earth scraps.’ After burying a bundle of cloth in the earth she was left with many scraps which she asked participants to create with. I thought this was a wonderful opportunity to include a project within a project. Like the prophecies in Southcott’s box this small fragment was buried, albeit in the earth, but it has at least revealed its secrets.
• Patch by Audrey
• Patch by Beau and Unrecorded Maker(s)
  This patch was made during the "Patchwork and Creativity Workshop", held in Cambridge, UK on 19 and 20 September, 2024. This two-day workshop used the theme of “Patchwork and Creativity” to prompt conversations about modes of being and knowing that emphasise the collaborative, the collective, the non-linear, and the potentially deconstructive or resistant forms of creativity that have not historically been privileged by Western art histories. During this workshop, participants were invited to co-create patches with one another. Participants were given access to pre-cut material and art supplies and a brief introduction to the Patchwork Object Project. They were then invited to mark the patch in any way that they felt inspired to. At three points during the workshop, participants swapped patches and continued working on patches worked on by others. Afterwards, participants were invited to identify which patches they contributed to; some participants chose to do this, some participants chose to remain an 'unrecorded maker'. We chose to use the term ‘unrecorded maker’, rather than the more common ‘anonymous’ or ‘maker unknown’ following discussion during the workshop around the fact that many women’s contributions to art and craft work, particularly work that was collaboratively made, was not unknown in its time, just not acknowledged or recorded by history.
• Patch by Beau and Unrecorded Maker(s)
  This patch was made during the "Patchwork and Creativity Workshop", held in Cambridge, UK on 19 and 20 September, 2024. This two-day workshop used the theme of “Patchwork and Creativity” to prompt conversations about modes of being and knowing that emphasise the collaborative, the collective, the non-linear, and the potentially deconstructive or resistant forms of creativity that have not historically been privileged by Western art histories. During this workshop, participants were invited to co-create patches with one another. Participants were given access to pre-cut material and art supplies and a brief introduction to the Patchwork Object Project. They were then invited to mark the patch in any way that they felt inspired to. At three points during the workshop, participants swapped patches and continued working on patches worked on by others. Afterwards, participants were invited to identify which patches they contributed to; some participants chose to do this, some participants chose to remain an 'unrecorded maker'. We chose to use the term ‘unrecorded maker’, rather than the more common ‘anonymous’ or ‘maker unknown’ following discussion during the workshop around the fact that many women’s contributions to art and craft work, particularly work that was collaboratively made, was not unknown in its time, just not acknowledged or recorded by history.
• Patch by Bruna
  I'm an Anglo-American-Canadian and have always been acutely aware of the ever varying in ever subtle ways that social 'niceties' (are they nice?) are imposed on women and the female voice. My creativity, such as it is, is drawn from a sideways on, broad/broad's, gal's, dame's perspective.
• Patch by Caroline
  This patch was inspired by the colours and drama of an early autumn sunset in a wide open sky. Observation and chance visual encounters are a constant source to express feelings. The two white crosses represent crop marks to show how a small piece of the world is fashioned into a creative piece. They are deliberately temporarily sewn to show how vision and expression can move and develop from place to place, time to time.
• Patch by Christine
  For this quilt project, the quilt square that I made uses a fabric with an ambigram printed on it that when viewed from one way says Save Me and when flipped upside down says I’m Fine. The origin of this ambigram is a depression and suicide prevention campaign by an organization called the Samaritans of Singapore to highlight to subtlety of depression and how people will sometimes use the words I’m fine to mask their true feelings. This ambigram gained recognition when a young girl named Bekah Miles got it as a tattoo on her leg and posted it on social media. The tattoo read I’m Fine to those looking at her but from her vantage point viewing it upside down read Save Me. This girl’s poignant social media post sparked a nationwide conversation on depression. (https://www.facebook.com/remiles14/posts/10207864868406352) I actually did not see that campaign or the subsequent social media post. I came upon this powerful ambigram through my favorite musical group BTS. BTS have 2 songs; Save Me from their album The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Young Forever and I’m Fine from Love Yourself: Answer. These 2 songs so perfectly capture the essence of this campaign. BTS are able to lyrically capture this complex dynamic of calling out for help in Save Me and then bringing the listener to realize that you are the only one that can truly save yourself. I’m Fine offers the perspective that as long as you are breathing then there is hope. The lyrics are not about denying pain, it’s about acknowledging it and pushing past it –through lyrical juxtaposing moments of despair with vows of fine-ness, the song exposes the common defense mechanism of presenting a façade of strength when one is anything but fine. This ambigram and these songs have had a significant impact on me and the way I think about my own struggles and outlook. The music gave me tools I didn’t even realize I needed to help pull myself up and out of negative thinking. It has also made me more aware and more alert to look beyond the surface of what others say to me which has been impactful in my practice as a nurse. I hope by using this fabric and through this quilt project, I can add my own creative contribution to raising awareness to this campaign.