Algalrhythms
In December 2019, before the
world as we know it changed, I spent 5 weeks wandering the shores of King
Island. Without knowing what was to come, I already felt quite despondent about
the apocalyptic events dominating the world news. It had been a year of Trump,
#metoo, Greta Thunberg, endless gun violence, war, and terrorism, culminating
in the epic fires burning in Australia.
Interestingly, what I found on
the shores of King Island reflected this theme in some ways. My thoughts
regarding death and decay and the fragility of life, found substance in the
wealth of kelp in varying stages of colourful decay on the shores; the
skeletons of birds ripped from the skies, the bones of wallabies, and the
carapaces of sea life littering the island – they all had a beauty – and a
stillness - to them that calmed me. On reflection some time later I realised
that this was the phenomenon biophilia – an hypothesis proposed by
Edward O. Wilson that humans possess an innate tendency to seek connections
with nature and other forms of life. With that connection comes the realisation
that we too, are part of that endless cycle of life, and that every stage of it
is beautiful in some way.
A further hypothesis called urgent
biophilia (Keith Tidball 2012) posits that when disaster strikes via
geophysical events, war, pandemic and the like, humans ‘seek engagement with
nature to further their efforts to summon and demonstrate resilience’, and that
‘within the envelope of our skin is a biological entity which, through
evolution, has been tuned for survival in natural environments’. By engaging
with nature on the island and for the months afterward as I explored it through
textiles, I believe I was feeling biophilia. For those that can’t reach nature,
I hope that my imagery inspired by it may help them in their search for
connection with it, now needed more than ever.
My primary form of record
keeping during the residency was photographs, and some of these are on display with
the related works as very obvious indicators of my inspiration. Others were
more difficult to transcribe, as they weren’t necessarily an object of focus,
but perhaps more a sense – of retained movement, of decay, of disintegration
back into the earth. As the body of work grew, the distance from photograph to
work grew – firstly towards altered digital prints on fabric, then to stylised
lino prints on paper and fabric. This was a pleasing progression, as I wanted
to move away from re-creating, to expressing my own interpretation and
reaction.
My work explores the beauty of
‘tragedy’ using the many textile techniques I have used in the past decade
making wearable art works – most of them biologically inspired. Dyeing is often
a starting point, followed by free-motion embroidery, shibori shaping, needle
and wet felting, leather moulding, and now 3D pen printing and digital
sublimation printing.
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