Kya Soch Rahe Ho........(What are you Thinking)

 

Sometimes, I don’t know what I’m thinking. Especially when engaged in doing household chores, cooking and such stuff that I try and get over with as fast as I can, I’m rarely focused on what’s going on the mind screen. Thoughts come and go but I am too busy with the job in hand that I can rarely recollect what they were.

Often, when I’m knitting and crocheting my ‘thought-nets’, I’m also not really focusing on thoughts either. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s not always easy to understand one’s own disposition. And the essence of issues that plague the mind - the deeper and untiring dialogue with self, is usually buried under the busyness of the day. If I want to look at myself think I do, but otherwise I watch something on nextflix, listen to a talk on YouTube or a book on Audible, to switch off from the superficial chatter of the daily rubble.

Sometimes, when the rant spills over, I can’t watch or listen to anything. My head is just screaming to be heard. If I can, I write in my journal or if it’s too chaotic to form sentences and if there too much emotion, I may speak to a friend. If I don’t feel comfortable talking to anyone, I babble into my phone and record the tirade. When I hear it back - the emotion, irritation and anxiety of what’s been said -that is if I can bear to go over the whole thing again, I do get a clearer picture of the problem at hand. Of why I’m feeling stressed. If I can’t hear that stuff again, I’m relieved that my mind is lighter for off-loading it. Usually it’s stuff that’s deemed unnecessary, pertaining to a whole host of mundane things that are detracting from the essence of what some part of me wants to think about, but the mind is exhausted with itself and cannot muster the discipline to do so. Sometimes feelings overwhelm and they cannot easily be put into thoughts and words – at best disjointed ones.

I’m a reflective sort of person, so I usually begin my day, writing in my journal. I start with reading the previous entry to get a sense of where I left off, because unresolved things have a habit of playing like elevator music, that’s heard but not really listened to - not enough to recognise the melody, not unless it’s a familiar tune, when we do sing along effortlessly – if we like the tune. In trying to get through the processes of living, which requires focus on the mundane, on driving, cooking, folding clothes and other tasks - the screaming is actually this underlying background dialogue that’s unfinished and unresolved, which is demanding it’s time and share of attention.

When I start this morning dialogue with myself, if I’m in a self-reflective mood, I can write for hours. If not, I leave off where I cannot go farther with the thought. Either I’ve said enough or I just can’t quite get to any point of understanding. Often I have to leave things for the thoughts to emerge. Where a movie, a talk or something else - even the rhythm of knitting sheds light.

And, more often than not, it is conversations or interactions with someone else that really helps shed light on what’s going on in one’s own mind - a reflective surface kind of mirroring dialogue. If it doesn’t automatically occur to me, I put my attention on what about the conversation struck me, moved me, or the advice I may have given . And it’s almost always what I need to think about for myself, albeit in a varying degree or context. This then requires deeper reflection which takes me into those areas that eons of exploration leave me tired and unfulfilled, but ideas that I need to resolve to whatever extent possible, because unless I do so I’ll never be free of the distressing inner rant.

 

A net by its very nature is something to catch things. Fishermen use it to catch fish, which is food for the human body. In Goa, many outdoor restaurants and cafes suspend nets under over-arching trees to catch the falling leaves so that the foliage debris doesn’t hamper happily chomping guests.

So what does a ‘thought-net’ do? What does it catch, or prevent from imposing or entering a protected space or field of vision?

 

If I put the larger and more cumbersome nets that I’ve created over my head, as an extension of my mind - an evocation of what’s going on inside my head, then it’s a kind of trap. A net that binds me within its threads. And not unlike repeating thoughts which bind us to people, situations and circumstance. But, the irony is that ranting and venting - going over the same ideas - creating this ‘thought-net’, is also a way out of this bind.

When we vent or rant - go on and on about a situation, most of us want sympathy because we see ourselves as victims of an unfair circumstance or relationship. Or we don’t have the courage to do or say what we really feel. Or perhaps we don’t have clarity and have conflicting feelings that need detailed analysis. In some sense, the situation challenges us.

I’ve often noticed this about myself that, if I’m on top of things, or matters are going well, there is no need for a dialogue. It’s only when I’m not able to get a grip on what’s going on that, the why’s and why-not’s circle around endlessly. And depending upon the intensity of the situation and emotion it evokes, I may lie awake at night, wondering why I can’t sleep despite vigorous exercise and feeling pretty darn sleepy too.

 

I was speaking quite recently to a friend, about the paradoxical beauty of our thoughts. This had occurred to me when I was looking at an embroidery pattern I had created within a series of ‘thought-nets’. The resultant ‘thought-net’ was visually attractive and led me rethink the very idea of ‘thoughts’ as being a burden. Of our ‘thought-patterns’ being something destructive. Such that new age philosophy underlines, telling us to get let go the past, to change our thoughts etc. Enticing us with absolutely miraculously solutions that almost never work quite as effectively and definitely not in the long term. Not unless we are on the brink of taking that leap by having done plenty of the work already.

 

Our thinking patterns, the template of our moral, ideas and ideals arise from societal norms, familial dictates, cultural morals and more that have evolved through individual, social, cultural, national and world events. All of which have collectively framed the psyche of our elders and educators, their ancestors and theirs: going as far back as time itself. Therefore, inherited ‘patterns’ are really not something we can get past easily enough. And, they are the real reason that the thread of ‘thought-nets’ catch us, binding the imaginative mind, curtailing the freedom of our spirits - keeping us from transforming our human destinies and exploring the potential of our human selves, even going beyond this.

My friend’s response was that negative thinking cannot be seen as beautiful, despite what the ‘thought-net’ I was showing her was proof of. She appreciated the artwork, but couldn’t correlate it with what she herself experienced when her mind is gripped with dismaying thoughts - negative thoughts in common parlance.

At one level, I agree with her. When you’re going on and on in a non-empowering way it’s enervating - for both you and the person listening to you. Fact is that negative gives power, when it’s changed through its charge into positive, and the two together is what generates energy. Negative thinking disembowels, but it is also creating an unacknowledged impetus within us, to rise above. If we were happy in that state, there really wouldn’t be any need to rant, complain or drag us and everyone around us, down the dingy steps of despair. We do that because we want a way out, but can’t see it. But lightening the load, getting consolation from friends, seeing that we are not alone in these things, lends confidence to delve within. That’s what we really want. Not necessarily advice, but solace. Not solutions that someone else gives but a means to reduce the thought load and find a way to the subtler voice of our own wise being. At times advice is sought, solution providers can be useful too but essentially the two charges of negative leading to positive - self-affirmation and feeling good, is what brings forth the energy. And in an instant the binds of the ‘thought-net’ are torn asunder. And we taste that enviable taste of freedom. Of being unstoppable.

I think that makes the process quite beautiful, don’t you?

Personal Threads: I have Sewn all My Life.... - Guest Post by Heidi McEvoy Swift

 

I have sewn all my life. I made dolls clothes when I was five, was given a children’s sewing machine at six, and was using my Mum’s proper machine at seven.  I love making clothes.  From dolls clothes I moved on to making my own clothes, and adapting and altering bought items to make my own creations. Through my college years it was mainly ballgowns that I made, spending far too much money on gorgeous fabrics and spending hours adding beadwork and embroidery.

I began working part time in theatre ten years ago.  Initially working as a wardrobe supervisor I gradually built up my role so that I now design and make costume for all the in-house shows at Theatre Royal Bury St Edmunds.

During the lockdown months this year I began a couple of new sewing projects.  Initially I was working on a project I set myself - to work with some half started embroidered tablecloths and tray-cloths I was given by a friend. These cloths were all printed with ready to go embroidery designs, and had mostly been begun, but were not finished. ‘Finishing the unfinished’ involved me re-working these tray and tablecloths from her my friends’ mother-in- law’s ‘legacy’.

Instagram became my saving grace during this lockdown.  It’s a platform that I have no love of, and had rarely dipped into its possibilities, despite having set up an account about 5 years ago.  Working in total isolation is so very hard. Some kind of audience is necessary, so I started to post images of work I was making on Instagram.  At this point, I was embroidering images to do with lockdown on cloth, to be a kind of diary, but frankly I was struggling, it seemed too banal, and possibly too kneejerk.

Groundwork Gallery's #doorstepenvironment challenge appeared on my Instagram feed at the very end of April, and initially appealed as a displacement activity for that first day! The work the gallery specialises in is environmental, so somewhat removed from my textiles work, however the themes interested me and I decided to engage with the challenge anyway, but adding in my own proviso that I had to include stitch.   This led me to start of a whole new project looking at things on my own doorstep and garden, in a new light.  

I embroidered images, borders, words and phrases relating to the daily prompts and photographed them. Sometimes I made textile frames for landscapes, embroidered words onto my own clothing, or worked directly onto plants.

 The ‘stony path’ prompt, alluded to in the last post above, was a reference to Herman de Vries. And his exhibition in 2017, which was named after Ian Hamilton Finlay’s garden in the Scottish borders.

I love wordplay, and often incorporate words in my work, and this became another of the connecting factors between the pieces I made.  The beauty of Instagram, and indeed photography, is that the photograph is the final image, which is something I had never quite appreciated before and this became hugely liberating!  The pieces I was making in stitch no longer had to be ‘finished’, the image presented is enough.  I ended up working right through the 30 day challenge list of words and phrases, each a prompt that inspired a whole range of thoughts and inspiration, some more than others.  This in turn has led to some very productive lines of exploration, which I am still processing and making work from.  I have thoughts of where I can go from here, and maybe I will, or maybe it will all turn into something very different. Isn’t that just how it goes?

I am sharing some of my favourite pieces here, some from the challenge, and some made since and more recently.

The challenge gave purpose to some work I was already trying to formulate, and cemented some thoughts about presentation and accessibility. I had been trying to work exclusively with stitch and textiles, so decided to include that in each post as my personal challenge.  I did not intend to do all 30 days, but gradually realised that it was a good way to keep focused on work at a time when everything was very difficult in so many ways.’

 

This was the first time I sewed directly onto the plant.  The theme was ‘Wild food’ and apart from dandelions and nettles there was nothing remotely edible in my garden.  I knew I was going to use the word ‘eat’ and the strawberry plant was the most obvious choice. It also reminded me of William Morris. 

The theme was ‘Today’s revelation’ which proved challenging to me. How do we receive a revelation?  I used the words ‘look’ and ‘listen’ as instructions.  I captioned the piece ‘Take a little time, you have plenty’.

 Looking skywards is such an uplifting thing to do when the sky is so very blue and cloudless.  The Cordyline is so sharp and pointy it really leads your eye up.  Mind you, if you looked down on it  would poke your eye out! The golden yellow thread both alluded to the sun and complemented the variations in the leaves.

I have always loved the phrase ‘there’s no use crying over spilt milk’.  The phrase today was ‘Spillage’  and putting ‘don’t cry’ on the cloth to clean up the milk seemed a perfect message as we were stuck in this lockdown situation, with people complaining about how the situation was being handled.  It was very satisfying sewing onto the dish cloth, and it still sits on my sink, reminding me.  Later that day I spilt wine and couldn’t resist making the companion piece! (go and find it!)

“Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams”

('The Cloths of Heaven' by W.B Yeats) 

The theme was ‘Hard surface’ which the slate certainly provides.  The harshness of the sun emphasises that,  and the softness of the rose petals presented such a perfect contrast.  The petals were much more delicate to stitch on to and tore so easily I had to sew very carefully.    The phrase ‘tread softly’ comes from the Yeats poem and is often on my mind.  The petals were strewn like dreams at my feet.

This is the last image in a series of three photographs which show the deterioration of the rose.  I sewed the word ‘alone’ on the fresh leaf in response to the theme word ‘isolation’, but did not use it.  I often feel bad about cutting flowers, artificially shortening their life.  This was a beautiful rose, then it is sad to see its decay.  By the time we get to this, the last image, the word ‘alone’ implies that loneliness causes decline.  Perhaps it does....

This image was made as lockdown was relaxed and I went for a walk in the abbey gardens.  It was so good seeing a different environment, but also felt a little scary as there is no knowing now how the world will change.  I left the leaves in the pond for others to come across.

Following on from the doorstep environment challenge I have found myself working more onto plants both in my garden, and out and about.  Often it is the damage on leaves or plants caused by insects and birds that calls me to make an intervention, other times words, or fragments of song or speech lead me to a make a piece.

I have called the collection ‘Passing thoughts’ as that is what they are.  If I were to attempt to define what each image is trying to capture that would be it.  Passing thoughts.  A lifetime of listening, and reading, of words in your ear, your head, in your life, on the radio, in song, in passing.  The words that accompany you, stick with you, earworm you. These are the things that come out of the blue to make an image.

The piece ‘Not moth’ looks at the holes in the Bergenia.  Something is eating it up.  Working with clothes as I do it is not unusual to be upset by holes appearing in woollen or silk garments, but I know exactly what makes those.  I thought of darning the Bergenia leaves, but instead, outlined the holes in blanket stitch, drawing attention to them while I considered the damage.  I next patched some holes, with offcuts of other leaves, using panto-like stitching as a nod to what I might normally be making if at work.   

Once you start looking at damage on plants it is everywhere.  Some of it actually very beautiful, bringing new colours and texture to the leaves, sometimes the culprits are right there, aphids, caterpillars, wasps laying eggs, taunting.  Or rather, just getting on with their lives really!  

Having acquired a set of old handkerchiefs I had in mind all the words we use associated with handing a handkerchief to someone, phrases of consolation, and compassion, and the uses for a handkerchief.  ‘It’s going to be alright’ is central to the handkerchief featuring the most damaged leaves.  While sewing the words ‘plagued’, ‘diseased’, ‘wounded’, ‘maimed’ and ‘blighted’ to label the leaves, I was thinking about the whole situation with Covid19.  

I left the handkerchief under a shrub in the soil.  For five weeks it stayed there weathering whatever came at it there on the soil.  At the end of its lockdown, there was very little of the leaves left, some were completely gone, some staining and dirt marking the cotton.  Having now laundered the handkerchief, it bears the stitches, the words, and the marks permanently.  I think the world will bear the marks of this pandemic too, no matter how hard we try to make it better.

Some of the other work I have been making is leading me back to my love of costume and clothing and maybe as the autumn creeps upon us this will be the most natural direction to pursue.  First steps are the embellishments I applied to the white linen jacket I made in May for another project.  While the leaves in the images relate to what was happening in July, I have further plans for this garment.  I hope I get around to sewing them

 

Heidi McEvoy Swift, graduated in Textiles, from Central St. Martins in 1985. She has since, worked as a motif and garment graphics designer, been a lecturer in textiles in FE, run workshops in various arts and crafts as well as taught sewing. On hindsight, Heidi says “ during my textile design course I made up handprinted or knitted fabrics into garments and should probably have actually studied fashion.” Originally from Liverpool, Heidi, her husband and two sons, now  live in Suffolk, UK. Despite residing there for more than half her life, she confesses to not being “in love with the flat dry prairie like landscapes. Even though the “lack of rain is a distinct advantage to someone who would most happily be in sunshine all year round.”  

Website: www.mcevoyswift.com

Instagram handle: @mcmcswift (aka Heidi McEvoy Swift)