Back in late July I went on holiday to a favourite location - Rendlesham Forest in Suffolk. We have been several times over the years, beginning when I was perhaps five or six. Its natural beauty and rich wildlife has always drawn us back. We spent a blissful ten days of camping amongst the pine trees, spending warm days cycling or walking through the forest and beyond and occasionally driving to small nearby towns. This time away from the hustle and bustle of London felt like a reset for me, not only physically and mentally, but creatively too.
Rendlesham Forest, Suffolk, UK.
Immersing myself in nature, I felt a deep reconnection with the land. The delicate and fleeting beauty of the plants and animals in the forest and fields was reinstated in my consciousness. By happy coincidence, I stumbled upon a wonderful book one day in an Oxfam in the town of Woodbridge, called British Folk Art, by Ruth Kenny, Jeff McMillan and Martin Myrone. It reminded me that every person is an artist, and art should be an outlet to explore, to play freely. Trained in couture embroidery, I often fall into the trap of 'perfectionism' - perfect stitches, perfect bead density, perfect composition, as well as using all new materials (which is not sustainable). My surroundings and this book gave me the inspiration I needed to get making, and I was itching to get back in my studio surrounded by my materials and ideas.
A snippet from 'British Folk Art'.
Fast forward to the day I write this entry, a few weeks on from my holiday, and I have spent the day in my studio. I rediscovered my joyous basket of fabrics that had been shoved in the corner, and layered them together in various combinations. I stitched in a sporadic way and used discarded materials like petals as embellishments, which was freeing and energising. I was accompanied by the highly insightful podcast 'Making Meaning' by Ruth Singer, which discusses reflective, research-led, caring practice. It actually inspired to begin this blog. Being an artist is a complex journey of ebbs and flows in creativity. This is normal and natural, and I am slowly learning to accept that. For now, I feel a new wave of intrigue and enthusiasm washing over me.
Rediscovering fabrics in my stash in the studio.
