SEW Region Magazine June 2015

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From the Editor


Magna Carta (An Embroidery)




A Fortuitous Escape

Clandon Park was one of the country’s most complete examples of a Palladian mansion. Built by a Venetian architect for Lord Onslow in the 1720s. Sadly it was destroyed by fire in April this year. Magnificent interiors were faithful to the period, featuring original stucco ceilings and marble fireplaces, the most impressive of which were in the awe‐inspiring Marble Hall, featured in films such as The Duchess. In 1956, the house was refurbished under the guidance of interior design legend John Fowler and contained a superb collection of 18th‐century furniture, porcelain and textiles, much of which was acquired by the remarkable connoisseur Hannah Gubbay. For textile lovers one of the houses great joys was the State bed, the hangings of which were made in about 1710. It was probably made by a royal craftsman. In 1778 it was said to be ‘A noble costly bedstead with hangings beautifully worked in a great variety of colours lined with satin and superbly finished’. They had a fortuitous escape as they had just returned to Clandon Park following conservation treatment and were still packed up waiting to be hung, thereby one of the easiest items to be saved.


The Betty Laker Award for Excellence

The Betty Laker Award for Excellence


Regional Day 2015 Hosted by Winchester Branch



Winner of the Members Competition Carol Winter


The Odiham Embroidery





My love of stitch, fabric and thread was stimulated as a child when discovering a quantity of stranded yarns and half‐completed place mats within my grandmother’s workbasket. Though I never saw her pick up a needle; nor did she ever suggest I should see what I could do with these treasures, I was intrigued. It was during the second world war, and I had been evacuated from north London into the Surrey countryside south of Reigate/Redhill. Going for walks with her actually set the scene for future creativity: trees, grasses and flowers captivated me, as did the maps in my grandfather’s study ‐ and, subsequently, reading poetry by torchlight under the bedclothes. Fast‐forward, post‐school and ex‐college: teaching speech and drama 1954‐1967 to 8‐9 year old primary school children in Deptford, south London; and then (by now married and with children of my own) at a village school near Hampton Court, Surrey. Fabric became increasingly important, fashioning costumes out of anything I could lay my hands on. As did encouraging pupils (classes of 45!) to make tiny books from scraps of paper, sketching or pressing roadside flowers, adding snippets of creative writing triggered by whatever we were discussing at the time. There never seemed to be time for my own creativity, other than making clothes and gifts for the children, or keeping endless diaries, some illustrated. For by now my husband and I were running our own magazine publishing business ‐ a 24/7 task from 1967 until 1999 when theoretically we ‘retired’. Throughout these years, books on costume, theatre, needlework, art and medieval history became an obsession ‐ still to this day I receive numerous titles for review. I recall researching and stitching a traditional sampler


for our daughter’s 21st birthday, based on our acre of garden and orchard here in the north Cotswolds; and another for my husband’s 65th birthday in 1997. I discovered and fell in love with mixed‐media possibilities in 2005; fate as it transpired. And then I turned freelance: for fifteen years commissioned to write magazine features (print and online) on gardening and travel, my husband constantly at my side to photograph the places we visited, the exhibitions and press events we covered, the garden, the creative pieces I made; anything I asked of him. There was ample opportunity for gleaning material to inspire my mixed‐media and stitch creations. There still is, even though his death in December 2014 has of necessity changed the focus somewhat. We used our motorhome or caravan as a travelling studio ‐ my lightweight, portable sewing machine meant I could stitch in the evenings whether on a mountain campsite in Bavaria, or alongside a turbulent river on the Shropshire/Welsh border. There are still marvellous moments of serendipity when attending press events, or when I am out and about undertaking research for the ‘day job’. The use of modern technology to scan and manipulate images that will become stitched paper and fabric booklets has immeasurably added to my joy of recycling and utilising ‘found’ materials. Repurposing maps and packing paper, old books, paper napkins, charity shop clothing, spent teabags, plus fabric and fibres from a stash begun over 50 years ago ‐ it’s still growing! These I invariably integrate with what I term ‘word‐whispers’ (my own free‐form verse).


Work has been commissioned for exhibitions, the most recent last month entitled ‘Pushing up Daisies: Death and Dying’ (part of Todmorden’s community festival of “conversations and events addressing this often overlooked area of our lives”). Still raw from my husband’s death in December 2014 which occurred simultaneously with my own treatment for breast cancer, I did wonder how I would cope. Tears, yes; but it is surprising where we can find strength when it is demanded of us. I could have said “no”, but would have felt personally diminished had I refused. It was in fact heart‐warming to have been at the Private Viewing and have complete strangers hug me, though I am saddened that my stitched words made two ladies cry. Now I move on, with two major projects in the pipeline ‐ at the moment in the early stages of planning ready for Autumn evenings when I’m not out in the garden. I cannot claim that in my late 70s I have come full‐circle, or returned to my roots. My love of natural history and an awareness of ‘place’ still dominates my creations; along with continual exploration of new materials and techniques; to suit my quirky ways and sense of theatre. I never stop experimenting, or asking myself, “what if??” Meanwhile, I post most days on social media (Facebook) and from time to time offer instructional snippets on one or other of my Blogs. And run the occasional workshop in my caravan studio


A soul descends into hell when it jokes with death. And so my prophesy that was never meant to be, came true. Creating my theatrical dream coat with its winter's skeletons of bare trees, I metaphorically in the late summer of 2014, wrapped it around an unknown cancerous breast. It was as if the fabric was laced with mind-numbing digitalis, pain – relieving willow bark and sleep – inducing opium. Yet it was not me who died, but my beloved husband, whose photographic images I had “borrowed” for the coat. And he is not here for me to say I am sorry, or to ask for his forgiveness. (ASM 3rd May 2015)






Helping promote the Embroiderers' Guild at the Region's Exhibition







Seen on TV



Talking Threads



A Salutary Lesson



Memories of Walking the Thames Footpath We began in 2011 and finished the Thames path in 2012 having done it in stages and not always in the right order. We sometimes took 2 cars for the more remote countryside section towards the source, often taking taxis from our car to the start of the day s walk but went by train on the London stretch. Just a few memorable moments, as I think of them, again not in order: Leaving one car at the 'Rose Revived' at Newbridge on the day of the wedding of Kate and William, the pub was offering champagne but as we knew we would be driving to the start of our walk we had to decline . The second car was left at The Ferry Inn at Bablock Hythe where we would start the walk on that day. That pub was festooned with bunting in red, white, and blue and we were invited to sit on the sofa with the landlady to watch the proceedings. Getting to Kelmscott on the wrong Wednesday so unable to visit the William Morris house, had to make do with a splendid lunch at 'The Plough' pub instead. Seeing masses of freshwater mussels on the bank in the Oxford area, but no sign of the otters which must have eaten them. Walking from Lechlade we were almost corralled as the landowner had put an electric fence and barbed wire adjacent to the towpath which meant we were walking on a narrow strip between the fence and the river. Rather spoiling the experience early on. Treading carefully round the banks covered in hemlock, between Abingdon and Clifton Hampden, very very poisonous. Disagreeing as to which signpost to follow in Abingdon, I chose the correct one [ of course!] and a weary husband had rather a long walk back to the car when he realised his mistake. The Thames Path signs don't say in which direction they are pointing and contrary to popular belief, it is possible to get lost or walk in completely the wrong direction along a waterway. Thinking of 'The Forsyte saga' when at Mapledurham lock wondering where Soames Forsyte's new mansion was meant to be. Having to walk through a housing estate on the outskirts of Tilehurst as the towpath was closed to all comers due to maintenance. Getting lost in outer London when the river disappeared from view and the signposts were missing. Enjoyed an illustrated talk in the Armenian Embassy in London by an Armenian friend, Armen Kiureghian, about his artist father Sumbat Kiureghian who made the journey in 1949 from Isfahan where he lived, to England via Venice with my Uncle Stan Foster who lived in the Old Boathouse, Hurley.


Diverting to the Railway museum in Didcot to see a newly restored Great Western Railway engine, the 'Edward 2' but apparently painted in the wrong colours for historic accuracy. Walking to Greenwich, seeing the Cutty Sark having a coffee in the Millennium Dome and getting a river boat back to the embankment. Passing Hampton Court, but not going in this time, we went once in our own boat which we moored on the river bank and just walked in to the garden from the river. Diverting to Green Park to see the Bomber Command Memorial. Because of the Olympics and the need for training, the path was diverted away from the Eton rowing lake, we were not the only people confused by the lack of signs. Mind you the others were Australians so maybe they were holding the map upside down! The Public records office at Kew was closed, although this time we only wanted a loo! The London stretch was the most exciting with so much to see from Tate Britain, the Houses of Parliament, the South Bank, Westminster Abbey, St Paul's Cathedral, the London Eye and many other landmarks familiar to us all. We were surprised to find on reaching the incredible Thames barrier that the mileage was 4 miles short at this end, being 180 to the source and 184 from the source to the barrier, so choose carefully which way you want to go, those extra 4 miles could be the last straw. A journey we would recommend to anyone, but take your time and enjoy it. There are not as many pubs on the riverside as you would hope, but the experience is nevertheless unforgettable.


I once again spent a day at this Textile Festival, based in Stroud and the five valleys around it. It is quite extensive, with various exhibitions, workshops and special events and two weekends of open studios, both in Stroud itself and further afield. Although the emphasis is still on textiles, other disciplines have been included this year. At the Subscription Rooms, in the town centre there was an introductory exhibition featuring a piece of work by each artist participating in the Open Studios; this was helpful in selecting which to visit! The Museum in the Park had an exhibition entitled ‘The Power of Ten’ featuring several textile artists, a sculptor, weavers, printers and someone who set seed heads in concrete! There was a wide variety of exhibits with lots of interest. I particularly liked Shuna Rendel’s fibre structures and three ‘mantles’ (apron shaped) by Caroline Dear, made from birch twigs, rushes and dandelion stalks from her croft in Skye. At the Lansdown Hall, the Quinary Textile Group plus 3 additional textile artists showed a range of work relating to the concept of ‘Location’ in it’s widest form. My visit coincided with a ‘meet the artists’ event. I visited several smaller shows/studios in Stroud before venturing to Woodchester (in the Nailsworth valley) where two former mills were the venue for very varied group exhibitions including more textiles, etching, jewellery, books, willow weaving, ceramics and more. Lack of time and dependence on public transport prevented me visiting other venues; my original plan had been to spend a couple of days in the area but this was not possible. The Festival is an annual event, taking place in May and I have always found lots of interest, both textiles and other items so I would recommend a visit. There is another Open Studio event in early December this year.






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