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!)
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.
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
Website: www.mcevoyswift.com
Instagram handle: @mcmcswift (aka Heidi McEvoy Swift)
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