I've been staring at the computer all morning willing a post to arrive with eloquance and flourish. And it hasn't. So I think I will take that as a neat little message to stop, relax, enjoy the silence of children away, and have some time to myself to finish sewing, finish knitting, and enjoy new fabric purchases.
And because it is Vessel Wednesday, A small, delicate, fine porcelain bowl by Mud, against Nani Iro fabric, soon to be a dress for myself.
Welcome to my childhood. The one of living between two cultures. The one where I was different in small ways - some of my language was different, my pronounciation was different. My clothes were different and my toys were different. No doubt there were many times I wished I was just like my friends, and had the same toys as them. But I didn't. And oh how grateful am I for that now as an adult and looking around at what is avialable for my children. I have been surprised through my journey as a mother, what I find most compelling from my childhood. There is so much I would like to re-create, and if I can, then I will. Not to try and capture something which no longer exists, but because I agree with how they were done, what they stood for, the meaning they had in our lives, or the enjoyment we got from them.
There are a number of toys and clothes items which I would love to have again for my children. Some of them no longer exist, but occasionally I come across something and leap across and get it. I grew up in Clothkits - that epinonymous british company selling clothes and accessories for the whole family in kit form - beautifully screenprinted fabrics ready to cut and sew together, the pattern pieces part of the screenprint and often with smaller scaled version of the clothes printed in left over space for dolls clothes (I mean, how wonderful a thought is that!! I used to love it, I can tell you, to have doll clothes that matched mine). I can remember pouring over the catalogues. It seemed an incredibly tangible connection back to a land I no longer lived in. It seemed also to stand for everything I understood England to be, and to a large extent still is. It is a country which nurtures small business, particularly those businesses steeped in traditional craft based industries. Clothkits was born out of the same stable which produced Designers Guild, Habitat, Heals, The Body Shop. A love of crafted items and a chance to mass produce but retain a sense of compassion and design aesthetic and quality. Clothkits as it was went out of business in the lat 80's....
But it has been reborn. And thanks to the kindness of one person who let me know about it, I can now have some of these pieces for my own children. They have just relaunched and their collection is very small and nowhere near as detailed as it used to be. I am unsure at this point how their business has launched, and what ties they have to the old Clothkits. I am wary, I have to say, about expectations of living up to what Clothkits used to be. But in the meantime we are enjoying the pieces we have ordered. Skirts, a dress, and, of course, the staple, a Cloth Kitty Kiki doll and kimono top. I will in due course go forth and buy all the outfits as they become available. It is the only decent thing to do really. For Kiki. She needs clothes. And for Pia. Who likes to take them off.
After a day of constant computer and internet problems (guess who's spending this week backing everything up externally just to be safe) and much frustration, not to mention family visiting, food to cook, atrocious light for photographs and fractious children who wont cooperate.....the shop is finally updated.
And fresh white flowers in the bedroom are always a good idea. Maybe also some Diptyque Geranium Rosa burning essence.
The first of a few shop updates - Sunday April 13th at 10pm AEST (which is about 2pm Paris time, and about 1pm London time). A small collection of pieces in a limited run of fabrics and sizes, with different pieces to follow shortly.
I feel like my little world is bathed in extremes at the moment. Deliberate explorations of colour and texture, opposed, contrasted, and all joined in what is a very detailed and exact series of things I am working on. Not necessarily precise, but all very much at the heart of how I am at the moment.
On the one hand - Extremely tactile textured pieces - the brush of woven wool against the skin, slightly harsh but tempered with cashmere and silk: the soft basket weaving texture of Silk Gima and large timber button, bold in it's description of stitch pattern: the gentle rustling of Shosenshi Paper [pictured above]creating what could at once be a Hawaiian hula skirt, or a walk through fields of corn: a tight knit weave pattern on a piece yet to be shown which is dense and very soft: dark deep colours, highlighting textural difference when worn together, their beauty in the sameness of colour but contrast of texture.
On the other hand - soft gentle pieces which flow and unfurl, cocoon and caress: A beautiful soft sock yarn from crazy4dyeing in Devil May Care colourway [pictured above] - not at all devilish, but more like spring blossoms, soon to be socks [the link to the actual pattern-for-purchase doesn't seem to be working for me] for it has turned cold and miserable: soft fine wools in a finer Concentric Circle scarf for myself, held together with a giant dragonfly button in silver - my dragonfly on a lilypad: snuggling with my children under handmade quilts to keep warm, and really thankful I put a warm fleece back to Pia's quilt because it is soooo soft and lovely.
Pieces all which somehow describe how I feel - alive. More alive than I have in months, and to touch, to acknowledge textural integrity as a part of living, that beauty can be found in that simple sensory act.
One can never have too many apron dresses.
Linnet fine, fine, linen almost like a cotton, with a Cloth feature panel front and back, and Linnet linen tape ties at the back.
Curls, models own.
I've been sewing for other people for the last few weeks - the shop, Enfant Terrible, etc that I needed to just take some time and make things for my own child. A simple little top, made with Anna Griffin Cherry fabric, from a pattern in this book. I've had this sitting in my To Do Pile for around 8 months (the fabric was very folded and creased I can tell you, used as a bookmark. Not something I'd recommend) and I faltered about doing it thinking it would be fiddly and time consuming, but in reality it sewed up very quickly and neatly and I'd like to make more.
Except.
Except for the following parts:
The bit where I decided I needed to make this at 10.30pm, and was very tired.
The bit where I was so tired I didn't trace the pattern correctly, hence the fact the neckline now sits on Pia's waist and adds new meaning to the phrase 'gaping'.
The bit where I didn't realise that till way, way too late.
The bit where in my tiredness and grumpy haste (it's about 11pm now) I just didn't think for a moment as I turned a pattern piece upside down on a fabric with a directional print......and now the back has upside down cherries. I realised.......at 12.15am.
I'm hoping it might fit her later in the year.
Perhaps.
Or not.
It's still a very cute top.
The pieces I did for Enfant Terrible are now in stock and I hope you take some time to have a look at them, and have a look around the shop too because Shana has put together a wonderful collection of pieces.
And finally, Erin at Design For Mankind has been putting together the most wonderful e-zine about design and designers. The third issue is all about inspiring corners of artists spaces and homes, and I'm featured in it amongst some beautiful wonderful spaces, and a lot of inspiring people.
drawing:paper:lines:conclusions
If you haven't seen Kirsten's Chinese Pullover, please go and have a look. It's another piece from Setsuko Torii's book, and is knit in Shosenshi Paper - a linen fibre that looks, and feels, and sounds, like paper. I've been watching her make it, hear it, photograph it, and my need to do the same project grew with each word she spoke. With the garment finished, I knew this had to be my next project. I waited very patiently for my order of Shosenshi to arrive. As I played with it today, I wound it and drew on the table top with it - thick fluid lines of paper - broad ink strokes against the white top, and as the light catches this, it is almost as if the ink were waiting to dry - the paper has such a fine transparency to it like ink on vellum. A little piece of paper calligraphy. I think I'm going to love playing with this.
Over the last few weeks I have been developing the schematic designs for the Beach House. Let's call it, for architecture's sake, The Matchbox, because that's what it's referred to here at the moment. A long extruded matchbox made from timber. And a little bit of something else I will keep a surprise. This starting process has been really interesting, mainly because it's been living in our heads for so long, and we've talked through much of the schematic phase in conversation, that actually sitting and starting to document it has been easy and relaxed. What is coming out feels right, very tied to the block and to us as a unit and our dreams for what this house represents - not just a beach house, but an extension of our life here, a place to retreat to, to relax in, and to have the space we don't have here in the inner city. I have beside me a growing pile of yellow trace, printouts, sketches, and soon there will be details. Lines are becoming walls and doors and elevations, and fluid sketches are becoming firmer computer generated lines of solidity. Our process is very simple: finite budget gives a floor area and we're working back from there on a building cost/m2 basis. Some things are non negotiable for me, and some things we are flexible on amending to suit local builders and availability of materials. Our aim - to design and build an incredibly cost effective house and prove good design and architectural design doesn't mean $$. The spatial feel is far more important here than shadow gaps and tricky details. It is in a way the ultimate 'shack', which will have some very nice elements to it, and fabulous light, all tied together with very simple lines, horizontal and vertical, and broad brush strokes of space, light, openness and enclosed pods. This is our calligraphic stroke on our land, weaving between the trees and the bushes.
One of the wonderful things about being able to sew is:
:being able to change your daughter's wardrobe on a whim, add, subtract, not feel guilty, find something new, make something new, just because you want to. I can play with details. I can play with fabrics. I can use scraps. I can buy new things to add. I can mix and match cottons with linens. I can be flippant and carefree.
And Pia gets a new apron style dress from Nani Iro cotton which ties at the back with linen ties - fresh and light.
We use our back laneway - a left over from 19thC planning and one which I am ever so glad was implemented to begin with - as a second back garden. We meet neighbours there, the children play with other children there - they learn to ride bikes, kick balls, and it's the meeting point for motorbike rides. Our garage door is a very social place. The door goes up, the people come round.
At the moment it is also a gathering place for leaves, debris, petals and twigs, all washed down from recent rain and wind. There is a big silver gum tree next door, which has been dropping new leaves and small nuts, and I hastened to gather them for photographing. And all along the paths and roads are dried Bougainvillea petals in softest pink, the leaves incredibly thin and fragile, starting slowly to be eaten by decay. But in their decay, something beautiful and wonderful - angelic in colour and veining - is appearing.
I always watch for things under my feet. Perhaps today you will too, and you will come home with some forgotton treasure.
