My fascination with the natural environment began with early childhood experiences and has grown into a deep respect for the land. Family camping trips accompanied with long adventure walks in natural bushland and deep rocky canyons and journeys into Outback Australia all left lasting impressions. I collected rocks, shells and leaves, particularly attracted to those with an interesting shape, colour or combination of both. I read topics on geology, archaeology and ancient history and dreamed that one day I would visit these places. I delight in the feel and touch of the earth; as a child, I made sand cakes and “iced” them with mud. Now, I have a garden and use biodynamic methods to nourish the living organism — soil without the use of chemicals or pesticides.
My passion for making developed initially with direct tuition and by osmosis, growing up in a household of artisans. Mum and Grandma worked as tailors and Dad as a toolmaker. Items were made, mended, reused and even recycled (before the word came into our vocabulary); it was just what we did. Nothing was wasted. Mum made our clothes; they were beautiful — dresses, coats, knitted jumpers, socks. Surrounded by rolls and pieces of fabric, patterns and various haberdashery items, there was plenty of stimuli for a creative, inquisitive child. The truth is, I was always making or building something, and this has continued whilst adopting those earlier family influences, preferring to make something rather than purchase.
I felt compelled to paint; as an 8-year-old, my first “real” painting was on a pillowcase. I made a stretcher frame from some of Dad’s remnant timber from his workshop and stretched a pillowcase over this frame. I was very proud of my “tree” painting. Later, I sought out workshops to develop my painting skills. One of these was the Meldrum School of Tonal Painting. This representational style of painting introduced me to painting en plein air. I enjoyed painting outdoors, even if this came with some technical problems working in difficult climatic conditions at times.
Colour enthrals me, particularly the colours I see in nature. Have you noticed the changes in the colours and tones across the day, the variations? These I find fascinating, and they inform my colour palette. I do numerous colour studies; I organise my materials into colour categories, making it easier to locate a specific colour.
When the opportunity arose, I pursued formal art education. I was delighted to be offered a place at the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology (RMIT) to study fine art. I was a mature-age student with a young family, so there were challenges, but together as a family, we supported one another, even if it meant doing our homework together around the kitchen table. My interest in Art History widened, and I now considered other ways to paint and to make artwork using sculpture and printmaking. My studies focused on nature, and I discovered the Northern Romantic art movement. This was a turning point in my art practice as I now began to think about the “feelings” evoked by nature; so instead of replicating what I saw in front of me, I began to consider ways to interpret nature and to communicate how I felt about nature.
“The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.”
— C.G. JUNG
When I completed my degree, I wanted to be a full-time artist, but life kicks in. So, I pursued teaching and thoroughly enjoyed assisting others to create art. As the lifelong learner, I enjoyed researching and discovering even more about art and artmaking to share with my students. In addition to teaching here in Australia, I took the opportunity to teach in England. Working overseas provided me with the excuse to visit places of cultural and historical significance that had captured my imagination as a child.
Photo by Andy Haigh
I began to walk ancient trails to immerse myself in the terrain and their history in greater detail. Routes like the Inca Trail, the Camino de Santiago and a section of the Great Wall of China. This slow method of travel allows me to lose myself in thought and to be almost one with nature — the joy of walking in the rain, feeling the wind and the sun on my face — but more importantly, allows me time to observe the surrounding environment more directly.
In 2020, I was invited to submit work for the Now Change exhibition at YAVA Gallery & Arts Hub in Healesville, Australia. The series Cast by the Climate was born. This was a fusion in my arts practice, with the 15 works each commenting on the effects of climate change. Each with its own story: works like Bleached (handpainted silk, algae, shell; 32 centimeters by 8 centimeters), which responds to coral bleaching on the ocean reefs, to Black Stump (nuno felted silk, alpaca and merino fibres, plastic, wood ash, eucalyptus twigs with paper clip; 33 centimeters by 8 centimeters), commenting on the removal of native forest timbers.
All words were presented on a display that moved back and forth. This aimed to suggest a pendulum in an old-world clock. Time is ticking!
The colours and textures are inspired by what I refer to as an Ancient Tree, located on a property near my daughter. When visiting family, I see this tree and reflect upon its existence and imagine what it has “witnessed,” what it has or is enduring. I am in awe of its texture that gives it such a unique character, the lines, the knobbly bits adding to its grace and appeal. I muse on how and why this tree has survived, being a valued wood, but delighted that it has missed the logger’s eye as so many of its companions have not. The local birdlife uses it as a viewing post, and I am sure there are creatures nurturing their young in the naturally formed hollows within her limbs.
Photo by Elizabeth Haigh
Why a paper clip, you ask? The paper clip is metal and references tree removal that has happened for centuries but more so since the Industrial Revolution where wood fired the furnaces for steel. The paper clip has other uses — to hold paper together, paper being a material manufactured from wood/trees. May this tree never feel the vice-like grip of a paper clip.
While researching for these works, I began to source information on the CO2 omissions, and, sadly, the fashion/textile industry was one of the main CO2 contributors. The Cast by the Climate forms are constructed from fabric to bring a textile focus into the work. The bowllike shape aims to demonstrate what we stand to lose — our food security, reduced seed germination, loss of biodiversity and less oxygen in the air. The changes I have noticed in my own backyard garden, together with my surrounding landscape, have motivated me to create thought-provoking artwork.
In Australia, and elsewhere, we have endured a dramatic change to our weather patterns — some of the hottest summers on record, resulting in devastating bushfires and unprecedented floods. Both of which resulted in loss of life, homes and livelihoods, and the destruction of bushland, resulting in loss of fauna, flora and animal habitats. I use my artmaking to express the feeling and beliefs that move me.
After teaching for 20 years, I decided to focus more fully on my own art practice. I now had time to think and reflect upon my own work. Textiles began to merge into my practice as an artwork. This shift from a functional garment to a fine art was a light bulb moment for me. This altered thinking I found interesting as I now embarked on a journey into the unknown.
My approach to artmaking is a bit like bush walking — observing, learning — but, like walking, you don’t know what you will find around the next corner. I begin with an idea, then I gather detailed information by drawing, painting and photographing directly from the inspiration source. Then, I allow myself to “play” and experiment without constraints. When allowing myself to work intuitively and freely, I often find useful ideas filtering from my original source material.
“I said to myself, ‘I have things in my head that are not like what anyone has taught me — shapes and ideas so near to me — so natural to my way of being and thinking that it hasn’t occurred to me to put them down.’ I decided to start anew, to strip away what I had been taught.”
— GEORGIA O’KEEFFE
I document my ideas by sketching diagrams and writing. I have accumulated many workbooks over time, and these are a valuable resource for me. I record experiments, dye recipes and trials — including the disasters. The disasters are just as important. I consider reasons why something didn’t work and think about ways to improve the outcome. Other ideas sometimes appear from this process of problem-solving. When refining a work, I then give myself some constraints. For this process, I use what are known as the formal elements: line, shape, colour, etc. I spend time exploring ways to make, for example, different lines with different art materials. This is an exciting way to get some other effects into my artwork.
About the series Cast by the Climate: These works began in late 2019. I continued to work on these during another very hot summer; windows were shut tight to restrict the smoke-filled atmosphere wafting into the house from nearby fires. I was both angry and concerned. Angry, asking myself: How did we get to this? And concerned for every living creature. I had experienced devastating fires before — does every summer have to mean fires?
As I worked on each Cast by the Climate artwork, I channelled some of these feelings into the work. Hand sewing details onto each work helped shift my focus from what was happening outside and became almost restorative for me.
In starting on this series, I began with a brainstorm of things that I could think of that are under threat — for example, whales, trees, microdiversity. I then collated colours that were appropriate for each of these works. I hand-painted fabric, indicated in Bleached, to add small features to create interest and to re-enforce some of the characteristics of the individual topics. Further, I nuno felted alpaca and merino fibres to suggest the textures found on the bark of an ancient tree, as previously mentioned, with the Black Stump.
With all works, I used large tacking stitches to join fabric pieces together. A tacking stitch in sewing terms is a stitch to temporarily hold fabric together prior to more permanent stitching. The tacking stitch is symbolically used to suggest the tenuousness of our environment.
Photo by Elizabeth Haigh
I also introduced other materials to help reinforce the message about human impact on the environment, e.g., stitching pieces of plastic onto the surface of From the Ocean’s Perspective (hand-painted silk, tarlatan, plastic, shell pieces; 36 centimeters by 8 centimeters), to reference this contaminate in our oceans. On Tree Bark (hand-painted silk, tarlatan, wood ash, tree bark; 35 centimeters by 7 centimeters), I painted a solution of wood ash onto the fabric.
Photo by Elizabeth Haigh
Some works have printed imagery of trees. For these, I have used a process known as photogravure, which is a printmaking process that combines photography with traditional etching processes. I created Die Back (photogravure polymer print on silk, cotton, wood ash, eucalyptus leaves and fruit; 38 centimeters by 10 centimeters) to give visual imagery of a eucalyptus tree where the upper branches and limbs die-back when a tree is under stress by environmental factors like drought or floods.
All works contain fresh or dried plant material relevant to the actual piece. For example, the work Medicinal (hand-painted silk, tarlatan, calendula petals; 36 centimeters by 10 centimeters): Marigold (Calendula officinalis) has medicinal and therapeutic properties, thereby suggesting the loss of medicinal plants and perhaps the loss of yet-undiscovered medical cures.
Where Are the Blue Whales? (handpainted silk, algae, seaweed with pearl; 38 centimeters by 10 centimeters) is a favourite, having once observed whale migration off our southern coastline.
Where Are The Blue Whales? Cast By The Climate.
My studio companion is a 60-kg (132-pound), 7-year-old male Rottweiler. He came into our household from a pet rescue as a distressed 3-year-old. Over time, he has become a confident (sometimes bossy, particularly when mealtimes are late), caring and lovable member of the family. His nickname is “gorgeous boy,” and he knows it! He is welcome in the studio, although if he brings his bones in with him, that is a different matter. Currently, I am creating handcrafted prints inspired by the natural features of the earth’s fragile surface. I have merged the visceral qualities of textiles to explore geological stories and my own family background.
Continuing my love and respect for the natural environment, I will pursue further narratives that highlight the environmental signatures caused by our contemporary existence. In doing so, I hope others will better understand what we are at risk of losing and aim to better respect our environment.
Photo by Brian Gilkes Photography
My fascination with the natural environment began with early childhood experiences and has grown into a deep respect for the land. Family camping trips accompanied with long adventure walks in natural bushland and deep rocky canyons and journeys into Outback Australia all left lasting impressions. I collected rocks, shells and leaves, particularly attracted to those with an interesting shape, colour or combination of both. I read topics on geology, archaeology and ancient history and dreamed that one day I would visit these places. I delight in the feel and touch of the earth; as a child, I made sand cakes and “iced” them with mud. Now, I have a garden and use biodynamic methods to nourish the living organism — soil without the use of chemicals or pesticides.
My passion for making developed initially with direct tuition and by osmosis, growing up in a household of artisans. Mum and Grandma worked as tailors and Dad as a toolmaker. Items were made, mended, reused and even recycled (before the word came into our vocabulary); it was just what we did. Nothing was wasted. Mum made our clothes; they were beautiful — dresses, coats, knitted jumpers, socks. Surrounded by rolls and pieces of fabric, patterns and various haberdashery items, there was plenty of stimuli for a creative, inquisitive child. The truth is, I was always making or building something, and this has continued whilst adopting those earlier family influences, preferring to make something rather than purchase.
I felt compelled to paint; as an 8-year-old, my first “real” painting was on a pillowcase. I made a stretcher frame from some of Dad’s remnant timber from his workshop and stretched a pillowcase over this frame. I was very proud of my “tree” painting. Later, I sought out workshops to develop my painting skills. One of these was the Meldrum School of Tonal Painting. This representational style of painting introduced me to painting en plein air. I enjoyed painting outdoors, even if this came with some technical problems working in difficult climatic conditions at times.
Colour enthrals me, particularly the colours I see in nature. Have you noticed the changes in the colours and tones across the day, the variations? These I find fascinating, and they inform my colour palette. I do numerous colour studies; I organise my materials into colour categories, making it easier to locate a specific colour.
When the opportunity arose, I pursued formal art education. I was delighted to be offered a place at the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology (RMIT) to study fine art. I was a mature-age student with a young family, so there were challenges, but together as a family, we supported one another, even if it meant doing our homework together around the kitchen table. My interest in Art History widened, and I now considered other ways to paint and to make artwork using sculpture and printmaking. My studies focused on nature, and I discovered the Northern Romantic art movement. This was a turning point in my art practice as I now began to think about the “feelings” evoked by nature; so instead of replicating what I saw in front of me, I began to consider ways to interpret nature and to communicate how I felt about nature.
“The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.”
— C.G. JUNG
When I completed my degree, I wanted to be a full-time artist, but life kicks in. So, I pursued teaching and thoroughly enjoyed assisting others to create art. As the lifelong learner, I enjoyed researching and discovering even more about art and artmaking to share with my students. In addition to teaching here in Australia, I took the opportunity to teach in England. Working overseas provided me with the excuse to visit places of cultural and historical significance that had captured my imagination as a child.
Photo by Andy Haigh
I began to walk ancient trails to immerse myself in the terrain and their history in greater detail. Routes like the Inca Trail, the Camino de Santiago and a section of the Great Wall of China. This slow method of travel allows me to lose myself in thought and to be almost one with nature — the joy of walking in the rain, feeling the wind and the sun on my face — but more importantly, allows me time to observe the surrounding environment more directly.
In 2020, I was invited to submit work for the Now Change exhibition at YAVA Gallery & Arts Hub in Healesville, Australia. The series Cast by the Climate was born. This was a fusion in my arts practice, with the 15 works each commenting on the effects of climate change. Each with its own story: works like Bleached (handpainted silk, algae, shell; 32 centimeters by 8 centimeters), which responds to coral bleaching on the ocean reefs, to Black Stump (nuno felted silk, alpaca and merino fibres, plastic, wood ash, eucalyptus twigs with paper clip; 33 centimeters by 8 centimeters), commenting on the removal of native forest timbers.
All words were presented on a display that moved back and forth. This aimed to suggest a pendulum in an old-world clock. Time is ticking!
The colours and textures are inspired by what I refer to as an Ancient Tree, located on a property near my daughter. When visiting family, I see this tree and reflect upon its existence and imagine what it has “witnessed,” what it has or is enduring. I am in awe of its texture that gives it such a unique character, the lines, the knobbly bits adding to its grace and appeal. I muse on how and why this tree has survived, being a valued wood, but delighted that it has missed the logger’s eye as so many of its companions have not. The local birdlife uses it as a viewing post, and I am sure there are creatures nurturing their young in the naturally formed hollows within her limbs.
Photo by Elizabeth Haigh
Why a paper clip, you ask? The paper clip is metal and references tree removal that has happened for centuries but more so since the Industrial Revolution where wood fired the furnaces for steel. The paper clip has other uses — to hold paper together, paper being a material manufactured from wood/trees. May this tree never feel the vice-like grip of a paper clip.
While researching for these works, I began to source information on the CO2 omissions, and, sadly, the fashion/textile industry was one of the main CO2 contributors. The Cast by the Climate forms are constructed from fabric to bring a textile focus into the work. The bowllike shape aims to demonstrate what we stand to lose — our food security, reduced seed germination, loss of biodiversity and less oxygen in the air. The changes I have noticed in my own backyard garden, together with my surrounding landscape, have motivated me to create thought-provoking artwork.
In Australia, and elsewhere, we have endured a dramatic change to our weather patterns — some of the hottest summers on record, resulting in devastating bushfires and unprecedented floods. Both of which resulted in loss of life, homes and livelihoods, and the destruction of bushland, resulting in loss of fauna, flora and animal habitats. I use my artmaking to express the feeling and beliefs that move me.
After teaching for 20 years, I decided to focus more fully on my own art practice. I now had time to think and reflect upon my own work. Textiles began to merge into my practice as an artwork. This shift from a functional garment to a fine art was a light bulb moment for me. This altered thinking I found interesting as I now embarked on a journey into the unknown.
My approach to artmaking is a bit like bush walking — observing, learning — but, like walking, you don’t know what you will find around the next corner. I begin with an idea, then I gather detailed information by drawing, painting and photographing directly from the inspiration source. Then, I allow myself to “play” and experiment without constraints. When allowing myself to work intuitively and freely, I often find useful ideas filtering from my original source material.
“I said to myself, ‘I have things in my head that are not like what anyone has taught me — shapes and ideas so near to me — so natural to my way of being and thinking that it hasn’t occurred to me to put them down.’ I decided to start anew, to strip away what I had been taught.”
— GEORGIA O’KEEFFE
I document my ideas by sketching diagrams and writing. I have accumulated many workbooks over time, and these are a valuable resource for me. I record experiments, dye recipes and trials — including the disasters. The disasters are just as important. I consider reasons why something didn’t work and think about ways to improve the outcome. Other ideas sometimes appear from this process of problem-solving. When refining a work, I then give myself some constraints. For this process, I use what are known as the formal elements: line, shape, colour, etc. I spend time exploring ways to make, for example, different lines with different art materials. This is an exciting way to get some other effects into my artwork.
About the series Cast by the Climate: These works began in late 2019. I continued to work on these during another very hot summer; windows were shut tight to restrict the smoke-filled atmosphere wafting into the house from nearby fires. I was both angry and concerned. Angry, asking myself: How did we get to this? And concerned for every living creature. I had experienced devastating fires before — does every summer have to mean fires?
As I worked on each Cast by the Climate artwork, I channelled some of these feelings into the work. Hand sewing details onto each work helped shift my focus from what was happening outside and became almost restorative for me.
In starting on this series, I began with a brainstorm of things that I could think of that are under threat — for example, whales, trees, microdiversity. I then collated colours that were appropriate for each of these works. I hand-painted fabric, indicated in Bleached, to add small features to create interest and to re-enforce some of the characteristics of the individual topics. Further, I nuno felted alpaca and merino fibres to suggest the textures found on the bark of an ancient tree, as previously mentioned, with the Black Stump.
With all works, I used large tacking stitches to join fabric pieces together. A tacking stitch in sewing terms is a stitch to temporarily hold fabric together prior to more permanent stitching. The tacking stitch is symbolically used to suggest the tenuousness of our environment.
Photo by Elizabeth Haigh
I also introduced other materials to help reinforce the message about human impact on the environment, e.g., stitching pieces of plastic onto the surface of From the Ocean’s Perspective (hand-painted silk, tarlatan, plastic, shell pieces; 36 centimeters by 8 centimeters), to reference this contaminate in our oceans. On Tree Bark (hand-painted silk, tarlatan, wood ash, tree bark; 35 centimeters by 7 centimeters), I painted a solution of wood ash onto the fabric.
Photo by Elizabeth Haigh
Some works have printed imagery of trees. For these, I have used a process known as photogravure, which is a printmaking process that combines photography with traditional etching processes. I created Die Back (photogravure polymer print on silk, cotton, wood ash, eucalyptus leaves and fruit; 38 centimeters by 10 centimeters) to give visual imagery of a eucalyptus tree where the upper branches and limbs die-back when a tree is under stress by environmental factors like drought or floods.
All works contain fresh or dried plant material relevant to the actual piece. For example, the work Medicinal (hand-painted silk, tarlatan, calendula petals; 36 centimeters by 10 centimeters): Marigold (Calendula officinalis) has medicinal and therapeutic properties, thereby suggesting the loss of medicinal plants and perhaps the loss of yet-undiscovered medical cures.
Where Are the Blue Whales? (handpainted silk, algae, seaweed with pearl; 38 centimeters by 10 centimeters) is a favourite, having once observed whale migration off our southern coastline.
Where Are The Blue Whales? Cast By The Climate.
My studio companion is a 60-kg (132-pound), 7-year-old male Rottweiler. He came into our household from a pet rescue as a distressed 3-year-old. Over time, he has become a confident (sometimes bossy, particularly when mealtimes are late), caring and lovable member of the family. His nickname is “gorgeous boy,” and he knows it! He is welcome in the studio, although if he brings his bones in with him, that is a different matter. Currently, I am creating handcrafted prints inspired by the natural features of the earth’s fragile surface. I have merged the visceral qualities of textiles to explore geological stories and my own family background.
Continuing my love and respect for the natural environment, I will pursue further narratives that highlight the environmental signatures caused by our contemporary existence. In doing so, I hope others will better understand what we are at risk of losing and aim to better respect our environment.
Photo by Brian Gilkes Photography
Related Stories
My fascination with the natural environment began with early childhood experiences and has grown into a deep respect for the land. Family camping trips accompanied with long adventure walks in natural bushland and deep rocky canyons and journeys into Outback Australia all left lasting impressions. I collected rocks, shells and leaves, particularly attracted to those with an interesting shape, colour or combination of both. I read topics on geology, archaeology and ancient history and dreamed that one day I would visit these places. I delight in the feel and touch of the earth; as a child, I made sand cakes and “iced” them with mud. Now, I have a garden and use biodynamic methods to nourish the living organism — soil without the use of chemicals or pesticides.
My passion for making developed initially with direct tuition and by osmosis, growing up in a household of artisans. Mum and Grandma worked as tailors and Dad as a toolmaker. Items were made, mended, reused and even recycled (before the word came into our vocabulary); it was just what we did. Nothing was wasted. Mum made our clothes; they were beautiful — dresses, coats, knitted jumpers, socks. Surrounded by rolls and pieces of fabric, patterns and various haberdashery items, there was plenty of stimuli for a creative, inquisitive child. The truth is, I was always making or building something, and this has continued whilst adopting those earlier family influences, preferring to make something rather than purchase.
I felt compelled to paint; as an 8-year-old, my first “real” painting was on a pillowcase. I made a stretcher frame from some of Dad’s remnant timber from his workshop and stretched a pillowcase over this frame. I was very proud of my “tree” painting. Later, I sought out workshops to develop my painting skills. One of these was the Meldrum School of Tonal Painting. This representational style of painting introduced me to painting en plein air. I enjoyed painting outdoors, even if this came with some technical problems working in difficult climatic conditions at times.
Colour enthrals me, particularly the colours I see in nature. Have you noticed the changes in the colours and tones across the day, the variations? These I find fascinating, and they inform my colour palette. I do numerous colour studies; I organise my materials into colour categories, making it easier to locate a specific colour.
When the opportunity arose, I pursued formal art education. I was delighted to be offered a place at the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology (RMIT) to study fine art. I was a mature-age student with a young family, so there were challenges, but together as a family, we supported one another, even if it meant doing our homework together around the kitchen table. My interest in Art History widened, and I now considered other ways to paint and to make artwork using sculpture and printmaking. My studies focused on nature, and I discovered the Northern Romantic art movement. This was a turning point in my art practice as I now began to think about the “feelings” evoked by nature; so instead of replicating what I saw in front of me, I began to consider ways to interpret nature and to communicate how I felt about nature.
“The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.”
— C.G. JUNG
When I completed my degree, I wanted to be a full-time artist, but life kicks in. So, I pursued teaching and thoroughly enjoyed assisting others to create art. As the lifelong learner, I enjoyed researching and discovering even more about art and artmaking to share with my students. In addition to teaching here in Australia, I took the opportunity to teach in England. Working overseas provided me with the excuse to visit places of cultural and historical significance that had captured my imagination as a child.
Photo by Andy Haigh
I began to walk ancient trails to immerse myself in the terrain and their history in greater detail. Routes like the Inca Trail, the Camino de Santiago and a section of the Great Wall of China. This slow method of travel allows me to lose myself in thought and to be almost one with nature — the joy of walking in the rain, feeling the wind and the sun on my face — but more importantly, allows me time to observe the surrounding environment more directly.
In 2020, I was invited to submit work for the Now Change exhibition at YAVA Gallery & Arts Hub in Healesville, Australia. The series Cast by the Climate was born. This was a fusion in my arts practice, with the 15 works each commenting on the effects of climate change. Each with its own story: works like Bleached (handpainted silk, algae, shell; 32 centimeters by 8 centimeters), which responds to coral bleaching on the ocean reefs, to Black Stump (nuno felted silk, alpaca and merino fibres, plastic, wood ash, eucalyptus twigs with paper clip; 33 centimeters by 8 centimeters), commenting on the removal of native forest timbers.
All words were presented on a display that moved back and forth. This aimed to suggest a pendulum in an old-world clock. Time is ticking!
The colours and textures are inspired by what I refer to as an Ancient Tree, located on a property near my daughter. When visiting family, I see this tree and reflect upon its existence and imagine what it has “witnessed,” what it has or is enduring. I am in awe of its texture that gives it such a unique character, the lines, the knobbly bits adding to its grace and appeal. I muse on how and why this tree has survived, being a valued wood, but delighted that it has missed the logger’s eye as so many of its companions have not. The local birdlife uses it as a viewing post, and I am sure there are creatures nurturing their young in the naturally formed hollows within her limbs.
Photo by Elizabeth Haigh
Why a paper clip, you ask? The paper clip is metal and references tree removal that has happened for centuries but more so since the Industrial Revolution where wood fired the furnaces for steel. The paper clip has other uses — to hold paper together, paper being a material manufactured from wood/trees. May this tree never feel the vice-like grip of a paper clip.
While researching for these works, I began to source information on the CO2 omissions, and, sadly, the fashion/textile industry was one of the main CO2 contributors. The Cast by the Climate forms are constructed from fabric to bring a textile focus into the work. The bowllike shape aims to demonstrate what we stand to lose — our food security, reduced seed germination, loss of biodiversity and less oxygen in the air. The changes I have noticed in my own backyard garden, together with my surrounding landscape, have motivated me to create thought-provoking artwork.
In Australia, and elsewhere, we have endured a dramatic change to our weather patterns — some of the hottest summers on record, resulting in devastating bushfires and unprecedented floods. Both of which resulted in loss of life, homes and livelihoods, and the destruction of bushland, resulting in loss of fauna, flora and animal habitats. I use my artmaking to express the feeling and beliefs that move me.
After teaching for 20 years, I decided to focus more fully on my own art practice. I now had time to think and reflect upon my own work. Textiles began to merge into my practice as an artwork. This shift from a functional garment to a fine art was a light bulb moment for me. This altered thinking I found interesting as I now embarked on a journey into the unknown.
My approach to artmaking is a bit like bush walking — observing, learning — but, like walking, you don’t know what you will find around the next corner. I begin with an idea, then I gather detailed information by drawing, painting and photographing directly from the inspiration source. Then, I allow myself to “play” and experiment without constraints. When allowing myself to work intuitively and freely, I often find useful ideas filtering from my original source material.
“I said to myself, ‘I have things in my head that are not like what anyone has taught me — shapes and ideas so near to me — so natural to my way of being and thinking that it hasn’t occurred to me to put them down.’ I decided to start anew, to strip away what I had been taught.”
— GEORGIA O’KEEFFE
I document my ideas by sketching diagrams and writing. I have accumulated many workbooks over time, and these are a valuable resource for me. I record experiments, dye recipes and trials — including the disasters. The disasters are just as important. I consider reasons why something didn’t work and think about ways to improve the outcome. Other ideas sometimes appear from this process of problem-solving. When refining a work, I then give myself some constraints. For this process, I use what are known as the formal elements: line, shape, colour, etc. I spend time exploring ways to make, for example, different lines with different art materials. This is an exciting way to get some other effects into my artwork.
About the series Cast by the Climate: These works began in late 2019. I continued to work on these during another very hot summer; windows were shut tight to restrict the smoke-filled atmosphere wafting into the house from nearby fires. I was both angry and concerned. Angry, asking myself: How did we get to this? And concerned for every living creature. I had experienced devastating fires before — does every summer have to mean fires?
As I worked on each Cast by the Climate artwork, I channelled some of these feelings into the work. Hand sewing details onto each work helped shift my focus from what was happening outside and became almost restorative for me.
In starting on this series, I began with a brainstorm of things that I could think of that are under threat — for example, whales, trees, microdiversity. I then collated colours that were appropriate for each of these works. I hand-painted fabric, indicated in Bleached, to add small features to create interest and to re-enforce some of the characteristics of the individual topics. Further, I nuno felted alpaca and merino fibres to suggest the textures found on the bark of an ancient tree, as previously mentioned, with the Black Stump.
With all works, I used large tacking stitches to join fabric pieces together. A tacking stitch in sewing terms is a stitch to temporarily hold fabric together prior to more permanent stitching. The tacking stitch is symbolically used to suggest the tenuousness of our environment.
Photo by Elizabeth Haigh
I also introduced other materials to help reinforce the message about human impact on the environment, e.g., stitching pieces of plastic onto the surface of From the Ocean’s Perspective (hand-painted silk, tarlatan, plastic, shell pieces; 36 centimeters by 8 centimeters), to reference this contaminate in our oceans. On Tree Bark (hand-painted silk, tarlatan, wood ash, tree bark; 35 centimeters by 7 centimeters), I painted a solution of wood ash onto the fabric.
Photo by Elizabeth Haigh
Some works have printed imagery of trees. For these, I have used a process known as photogravure, which is a printmaking process that combines photography with traditional etching processes. I created Die Back (photogravure polymer print on silk, cotton, wood ash, eucalyptus leaves and fruit; 38 centimeters by 10 centimeters) to give visual imagery of a eucalyptus tree where the upper branches and limbs die-back when a tree is under stress by environmental factors like drought or floods.
All works contain fresh or dried plant material relevant to the actual piece. For example, the work Medicinal (hand-painted silk, tarlatan, calendula petals; 36 centimeters by 10 centimeters): Marigold (Calendula officinalis) has medicinal and therapeutic properties, thereby suggesting the loss of medicinal plants and perhaps the loss of yet-undiscovered medical cures.
Where Are the Blue Whales? (handpainted silk, algae, seaweed with pearl; 38 centimeters by 10 centimeters) is a favourite, having once observed whale migration off our southern coastline.
Where Are The Blue Whales? Cast By The Climate.
My studio companion is a 60-kg (132-pound), 7-year-old male Rottweiler. He came into our household from a pet rescue as a distressed 3-year-old. Over time, he has become a confident (sometimes bossy, particularly when mealtimes are late), caring and lovable member of the family. His nickname is “gorgeous boy,” and he knows it! He is welcome in the studio, although if he brings his bones in with him, that is a different matter. Currently, I am creating handcrafted prints inspired by the natural features of the earth’s fragile surface. I have merged the visceral qualities of textiles to explore geological stories and my own family background.
Continuing my love and respect for the natural environment, I will pursue further narratives that highlight the environmental signatures caused by our contemporary existence. In doing so, I hope others will better understand what we are at risk of losing and aim to better respect our environment.
The Women Create Foundation is a catalyst for small but significant strides to empower women creators through grants that help bring projects to life and foster innovation.
