"Oh, that's different!" cried the Embroiders Guild members as they arrived to find the room had been changed from their usual meeting format. "Oh, no, what's going on, we never have the space like this, we always sit in rows and watch a slideshow". Committee members greet, arriving and settling takes place, and there is pride in placing of books on a table, travel books, that start off being made by one person and then journey to another. There is quick mutterings and catchings up and then the gathering of a circle, business of the day and an introduction. Within minutes hands were reaching out to touch the array of cloths, spread over the tables arranged in workshop format. The textiles were kindly loaned personal collections gathered from around the world by Monica, Chairperson (who it was commented, was not wearing a hand stitched personal identification badge). The room, inside All Saints Church was a deep rich red. "A bit like sitting under a bishop's cassock" I had found myself murmuring out loud, going on to share my background, the trip to northern Italy, an interest in Sibyls, women storytellers, religious icons, identity etc and how I loved exploring sacred and contemplative environs. I told them about walking the walk of silence, crossing in the tiny boat, the enclosed order of Benedictine Nuns who called us to be mindful of being present in the moment.
I introduce the first collection as my 'family', which included the Straight Face makeover doll full of pins, Ela the Abbess of Lacock Abbey, the bundle of friends, the brush doll from my travels, my wrapped journal and textile books. I talk about the collection of small things in an old Chinese box, items used to tell 3-d stories in a diorama, and how the giraffe and budgie and pretend Bristol grass was such a huge hit. Without formal flash cards, script or powerpoint, I randomly gush, happy to be sitting within a circle of women, noticing their rather polite and questioning facial expressions, as they observe my arranged treasure trove, boxes and boxes of collections to create curiosity and mystery, and like an magician I enjoy whipping open contents at the start of each story. I share that I felt a bit of a fraud, as I have never trained in textiles, sewing, crafts and certainly didn't know how to properly stitch. However, I had, once upon a time, sat quietly at home and explored being rubbish at sewing, entered the result, the stitched cloth storytelling book Dreaming & Stitching, to the RWA, Bristol, and won a prize, the trip to Italy and an exhibition/residency.
So, in a rush of memories, thoughts and associations, a series of textile related items, dolls, books, wrappings, bundles, stories and all were passed around the table. I talk about how on the trip I suffered a tooth abscess and I never to visit an Italian dentist whilst he insists on talking to a buddy on his mobile phone whilst tapping one's molars with a metal implement. Suddenly I noticed that the lovely lady on my left, was almost crying, I ask, are you OK? She answers by saying that I apparently was pushing her to the edge. I rather anxiously scan her face for tell tale signs. She leans closely to her friend, another lovely sprightly lady of 86. She goes on to say that she had received bad news yesterday, felt really depressed and wasn't sure about coming to the talk. But, she says, well, you have cheered me up, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. With an audible sigh, I plonk myself down and started to chat with the members, sharing practice, ideas, shows, events etc and there is talk inspired by my visiting Somerset House to see the beautiful Boro exhibition of Japanese indigo dyed mended fabrics. Another member crys "what a coincidence, I have just ordered a book on Boro, it is beautiful work"... Suddenly, Monica, with huge smile on her face, calls for order to the bubbly exchange and goings on, there is a round of applause and I say how truly privileged I felt to be invited to share their circle. True sisterhood. It is time for tea, there is an offering of amazing biscuits, and I remember to extend an invitation to make and mend ourselves. I had prepared a collection of cardboard arms. I say to the ladies, I wondered what the Bristol Branch of the Embroiders Guild would make of a box of tat? There is a sudden lunge for the box and in minutes hands are stitching hands and they are arranged as an offering at the end of the evening.
As people start to leave there is a flurry of thank you's, the lady who had stitched a woman into a chair leaves her contact details, there is an invite to be on the local radio station and another Guild member stops to say how much she enjoyed the evening. "I think you should see a psychiatrist", she said, with beaming smile, I have I reply, this is the result.
I introduce the first collection as my 'family', which included the Straight Face makeover doll full of pins, Ela the Abbess of Lacock Abbey, the bundle of friends, the brush doll from my travels, my wrapped journal and textile books. I talk about the collection of small things in an old Chinese box, items used to tell 3-d stories in a diorama, and how the giraffe and budgie and pretend Bristol grass was such a huge hit. Without formal flash cards, script or powerpoint, I randomly gush, happy to be sitting within a circle of women, noticing their rather polite and questioning facial expressions, as they observe my arranged treasure trove, boxes and boxes of collections to create curiosity and mystery, and like an magician I enjoy whipping open contents at the start of each story. I share that I felt a bit of a fraud, as I have never trained in textiles, sewing, crafts and certainly didn't know how to properly stitch. However, I had, once upon a time, sat quietly at home and explored being rubbish at sewing, entered the result, the stitched cloth storytelling book Dreaming & Stitching, to the RWA, Bristol, and won a prize, the trip to Italy and an exhibition/residency.
As people start to leave there is a flurry of thank you's, the lady who had stitched a woman into a chair leaves her contact details, there is an invite to be on the local radio station and another Guild member stops to say how much she enjoyed the evening. "I think you should see a psychiatrist", she said, with beaming smile, I have I reply, this is the result.
