How many times do I have to say it? Prism. Not Prison. I know it makes sense for my dolls to be in prison, especially these three, but no, just, no.
Prism Textiles is an “international exhibiting group [which] brings together a diverse group of selected textile artists showcasing high-quality fine art textile practice and craftsmanship from around the world. Exhibiting as a group since 1998, we currently have 70 artists participating within PRISM Textiles, working together to challenge the common misconceptions surrounding textiles as an art form.”
70 artists including ME. Over which I am delighted. Also I was also slightly terrified. However, there was absolutely no need to be, and the Three Threepenny Opera Dolls are holding their own in a diverse and fascinating exhibition, currently on display at the Art Pavilion in Mile End until 29th April 2024.
There is a programme of free workshops being held throughout the exhibition, which are open to anyone on a first come first served basis.
You can take a browse through the free downloadable catalogue, to see the different artists involved. I do highly recommend a visit if you are able. I’ll be in on the afternoon of Wednesday 24th, from 2 to 6pm, but the exhibition is open daily from 11am to 6pm, apart from the 29th when it will close at 5pm.
Barbara AshWolfgang WörnerHelen O’LearyJackie HodgsonRoss BeltonPenny MaltbyBarbara PhelpsVivienne Beaumont
After Prism, we are back at home with the Whitstable Artists and Makers Trail on Saturday 4th and Sunday 5th May, 11am to 4pm. There are 13 houses and studios open to the public across town, hosting 21 artists. I really had better get my nose out of books, where it has spent the best part of the last few days, and back on with ‘getting on with stuff’.
The Fashion and Textile Museum is fast becoming my favourite museum. Just the right size, it can pack in a lot of information without leaving the visitor exhausted; and it also has a habit of curating exhibitions about some of my favourite things.
In this case, Biba and “Do a Ruby Keeler“
It is possible that a lot of people might arrive at this exhibition having no idea to what “Do a Ruby Keeler” refers. Or even who Ruby Keeler might be. Not me though: I know exactly who Ruby Keeler was, and why this exhibition of Shirley Russell’s costume designs is so named.
The Boy Friend was written by Sandy Wilson in the 1950s as a pastiche of 1920s musicals, especially those by Cole Porter. It was popular from the off and there was always talk of it being made into a film, with the rights being owned by MGM.
Ken Russell is quite a surprising director to have finally made the film. It stars Twiggy and Christopher Gable and is an absolute joy. Ken Russel rewrote the script to reference the Busby Berkeley musical 42nd Street, starring Ruby Keeler and Bebe Daniels, and added a whole load of other wheels within wheels.
In 42nd Street, the star of the show breaks her ankle, and a young nobody from the chorus is pulled forward to take her place. The director rehearses her to the point of breaking and then delivers one hell of a motivational speech:
‘Sawyer, you listen to me, and you listen hard. Two hundred people, two hundred jobs, two hundred thousand dollars, five weeks of grind and blood and sweat depend upon you. It’s the lives of all these people who’ve worked with you. You’ve got to go on, and you’ve got to give and give and give. They’ve got to like you. Got to. Do you understand? You can’t fall down. You can’t because your future’s in it, my future and everything all of us have is staked on you. All right, now I’m through, but you keep your feet on the ground and your head on those shoulders of yours and go out. And Sawyer, you’re going out a youngster, but you’ve got to come back a star!’
I do know that quote pretty much off by heart, but did just double check I had it quite right. I know this speech because it is on my record, which I listened to A LOT as an escapist sub-teenager. And yes, that is a pop-up cardboard human fountain as part of the gatefold sleeve.
As if that isn’t enough for Keeler/Sawyer to deal with, she has the limping Star hobble in to give her a hard time – or so she thinks. Bebe Daniels comes in tough “so you’re going to take my place are you?” and we steel ourselves for harsh words, but she doesn’t: she checks the youngster knows her lines, and says she’ll be a cinch. Then tells her to “go out there and be so great that you’ll make me hate you“.
“Now you are just a nervous skinny kid overwhelmed with the impossibility of trying to save the show” is how an uncredited Glenda Jackson channelling Bebe encourages Twiggy in The Boyfriend, before delivering her own version of the “hate you” line and chewing up the scenery in a gorgeous beaded skullcap. As Twigs the wonder kid takes to the stage, the theatre Director, sotto voice from the wings, tells the underconfident understudy to “do a Ruby Keeler“. And so she does.
There, I got there. Sorry it took a while. You may by now be aware that The Boyfriend, Busby Berkeley, and the Hollywood musicals of the 1930s played a big part in my young life. I daydreamed of tap dancing on top of taxis. Of saving the show. Or of being wisecracking “Anytime Annie” á la Ginger Rogers (although obviously I didn’t understand the name). My records were well played. I acted all the parts in my head.
Fired up by stolen afternoons at the Electric Cinema, Mum and I would trawl around London to rummage through ephemera at the Movie Jumblesales, never knowing quite what treasures we might (or might not) come upon. At some point they relocated from random drafty church halls to the Ecclestone Hotel in Russell Square. When we arrived and asked a supercilious receptions where the movie jumblesale was being held, she replied in a cut glass accent “do you mean the Cinema Collectors Fair? we don’t do jumblesales here”…
As a family we would head up to Portobello Road and rummage through second-hand everything to our hearts content. Regularly of a Sunday morning we would head for the Record and Tape Exchange in Pembridge Road, waving gleefully at the giant Motorhead mural as we turned off the Holland Park Roundabout. An hour or so would be happily spent before each of us returned from separate departments, with new secondhand discoveries for 2p or 10p each. On the other side of the road was a series of antique shops. I would press my nose against the windows and admire the Edwardian lace and art deco statues. One of those shops was the Last Picture Frock, owned by Shirley Russell, who also ran a costume hire business there. I had forgotten this until I read about it in this exhibition, and now I can see the inside of the shop, the ostrich feathers, and beaded dresses. All gorgeous.
Everything I managed to own was from the bargain bins. The odd chip or rip has never bothered me. I think that is why I wore my antique and vintage clothes until they fell apart. The ones that are saved are because I outgrew them, and they were put away for skinnier days. My treasured figurines are missing fingers, or worse, but I’ve never minded.
Russell’s costume design sketches are charming and full of life. A lot of the garments worn in the film were original clothes, sourced from the second hand stalls that proliferated Portobello. These original pieces had fabrics that would be impossible to recreate on a budget – that print of the dress on the far right is amazing, and the Pierette costume was a recreation of a 1920s fancy dress costume in Russell’s collection.
If this has whetted your appetite, you can follow the Shirley Russell Archive on instagram. And make sure not to miss this lovely collection on your way in to the Biba exhibition.
Barbara Hulanicki, creator of Biba, made extremely good use of her time spent skipping off to the cinema instead of staying in art school. She created a whole new 1930s for the 1970s, and a whole new way of shopping and dressing with affordable glamour for all.
It was the metallic glittery wellington boots in shades of dusky pink, gold and green, that my 9 year old self particularly desired. The hight of sophistication I thought. I still think that. It is perhaps why I find wellies perfectly acceptable footwear for all occasions (especially if bright pink).
To close; a snapshot of some of my own “Biba archive”, and the real life understudy-to-star story of Google Withers.
Oh and before I forget – she said, coming back to the here and now – the Engineer and I shall be hosting a one day pop-up in our front room this coming Saturday, 30th March, from 11am to 4pm, to celebrate Time Springing Forward. Once again, the Engineer and his Old Hands Watches will be providing the steady, regular, ticking time, and I shall be Once Uponning…
It is almost February, and that, if you are a long term reader, means it is time for the Profanity Embroidery Group exhibition. This year, because it is ten years since Wendy Robinson and myself accidentally created the Group, we are having three exhibitions along Whitstable High Street, and no, we don’t think that is greedy. You should have heard some of the ideas for a Whitstable Takeover that we had. If we make it to 20, we’ll definitely do that.
First though, I would like to share a piece of writing I was invited to contribute to Pieced Work, and ongoing literature project starting from the text-textile connection. Edited by Clare Carlin, a writer and researcher based in Melbourne, Australia, the current project is Textile Message, a series of essays about clothes and other textile objects. This is the third series of the project, and I would recommend taking a look at the previous two, which were interviews with authors exploring the text-textile link through vocabulary and etymology.
Here’s the piece about the orange Pam Hogg dress – follow the link to read it at a sensible size, and as to why Scarlett O’Hara’s green drapes of Tara dress and the Zandra Rhodes jewelled denim feature in my textile history.
At some point actually, dolls relating to both those last mentioned frocks will appear. But not yet.
Right now I am battling with my love of words over whether they are indeed necessary. The Ten Revolting Women for the “Ten” themed Profanity Embroidery Group exhibition have lots of say. Or rather shout. It is in their nature. They will be at the Fishslab Gallery in Whitstable from 7th to 12th February, alongside vaguely “ten” themed work from the Group. I shall miss them being in my studio.
The Profanity Embroidery Group’s Whitstable High Street takeover is spread across three venues; the Fishslab for the new Ten work: Bruce Williams Art gallery, for the Retrospective (ie old work) and the fabulous PILLOWTALK Open Call having it’s first outing in The Twelve Taps. The pillowcases on the theme of REST are fabulous. We now have over 60 contributions, and from Whitstable they will be making their way to Ramsgate and Margate for the POW festival in March, and then onwards to the Fringe Arts Bath festival in the summer.
The postie has just been with another delivery of fabulous pillowcases, and I need to catalogue them on a spreadsheet and all that sort of sensible stuff, so that’s enough from me for now. Although I think a cup of tea while I fully appreciate the unwrapping process is in order.
Actually, before I go – some of the Big Dolls had a fabulous January. They came out to play in the window of We Sell By The Sea, the fabulous Whitstable pop-up shop. I can see poor old Jesus will be hoofed out of the window again as they insist on taking over at home too. But that will have to wait for another day.
Have you seen Typist Artist Pirate King yet? If not, I recommend doing so, especially if you can catch director and writer Carol Morley in conversation too.
The film is a fictional account by Morley, of the latter life of the artist Audrey Amiss: a gifted artist “who used to be in the kitchen sink school of realism but is now avant-garde and misunderstood”. Amiss was accepted into the Royal Academy of Arts. No mean feat that – her being from Sunderland, the daughter of shopkeepers, but in 1958, she was hospitalised due to mental illness and never returned to the Academy. Instead, she trained as a shorthand typist and spent the next three decades working for the civil service, interspersed with travel and admissions to psychiatric wards.
Audrey didn’t just create art. Audrey kept scrapbooks. She kept scrapbooks like diaries of her days. She stuck in food wrappers, found papers, and wrote around them in a rush of thoughts. Got to love a scrapbook! Memories stuck in place, rather than lost. I dust off my own scrapbooks, reach them down from their high shelf. Sit turning their pages. I wish I had written comments, like Audrey. I don’t remember some gigs at all. The Ralph’s receipts from a Hollywood supermarket do make me laugh though – I know why I kept them. How brilliant. I think maybe what I call a “winter project” to go through and write what I can – or can’t recall. Just for fun.
My scrap books morphed into Artist’s Diaries. I am quite impressed. Nothing mawkish here, it’s sort of exciting. Gradually the scrapbooks, or diaries, become sketches and notes. The back of the last diary is mostly in shorthand. I idly decypher, and close the book. The next volume is definitely a sketchbook – drawings of what I’ve seen, not cuttings. The next volume – ideas and thoughts: beginnings not recordings.
“Typist…. Artist” keeps rattling around my head.
I was a typist. And I became ill. And that finally allowed me to be an artist.
Typist Artist.
Two words I have so long struggled with, now seem to fit comfortably together. Like the odds and ends in my scrapbooks.
Anyway. Go see the film. You get a badge. And a pencil if you are lucky. And even a photo with Carol Morley, if you are very very lucky. You’ll also come away with a lot to think about.
It is huge. That’s it, really. I suggest you try it. It isn’t something I’ve ever been that good at, and often when I do make use of it, I get a funny look. Probably because I bark it out and stamp at the same time. I am going to practice more, so that it becomes effortless and less hostile.
Having thrown my toys (all of them, one by one) out of my pram and said NO as loudly as possible, my brain relaxed, the sense of humour returned, and I had an idea.
What, you may ask, was causing me to be so negative?
Christmas.
Or rather the thought of making things purely because of having to, not because of wanting to. And that, is a total No, No. Once the joy has gone, things just become ‘stuff’, and pointless stuff at that.
So I said “No”. No thank you, I’ll not be part of your Christmas Pop Up Shop. No, thank you, I’ll not organise a Christmas Artists Trail. No. Thankyou.
And my shoulders came down. And the lines on my face went up, not down. And my brain started to tick. And there were the lovely conversations over the recent East Kent Artists Open House. And I started to write down the odd phrase. And now we have The C-word Fairy. Read it which way you will. She’s a prototype, but I shall work on her sisters. She is, as usual, completely from the scrap bin. Her sisters will be from the fabric stash, apart from some lovely trim from The Fabric Shop which will be a perfect replacement for the sequin stuff I used for her wings and of which I only have the tiniest amount.
She’s made me happy. She was totally unprompted, and is sitting there giggling. The joy of stuff returned.
Thank goodness for that.
So, keep an eye on my Instagram and twitter and Facebook, because I “may” be popping up after all. Meanwhile, The C-Word Fairy’s sisters will be popping up on my Etsy shop by next week.
PS rather rudely, I forgot to say ‘thankyou’ to everyone who visited our Open House. We had a blast, all of us, Dolls included. Thankyou. As you can see, you’ve done me the world of good.
That’s what the Textile Art Magazine, Embroidery, called me, so it must be true. Did I mention I’m in the new edition, November/December 2023? I didn’t? are you sure? Well, I shall be mentioning quite a lot from now on.
I had of course imagined a terribly serious and worthy interview, but obviously that isn’t me, and so it is about all the usual stuff I woffle on about. It does, I think, give perhaps a little more background. It is very well written, and an enjoyable read. You’ll have to take my word for it, or acquire a copy yourself. Finding a stockist is not easy, but they can be purchased online. I am actually considering a digital subscription (no piles of magazines to store) but then again, where is the fun in that?
For yes, this is the third and final session for this year. We’ve had a marvellous time. Met some great folk, had some interesting chat, some bonkers woffle, and everything in between.
Be lovely if you can make it along. We are a little short on mermaids, to be honest. It is so mild they are still out in the Estuary – far enough out to avoid all Southern Water’s poo… They’ll come in one cold crisp day when there hasn’t been any toxic release for a while. Fingers crossed.
Current work in progress is a vampire mermaid. Seasonal, wouldn’t you say?
Seems to me, that I can spot a destructive patterns afoot. Having been accepted into the amazing PRISM textiles group, I am of course right now telling myself that I don’t want to ‘do’ textiles anymore. In fact, I don’t think I want to do anything anymore. I think I want to go to bed and just stay there. I’m not even bothered about chocolate. And I don’t want gin.
See, it isn’t sounding good, is it?
So, yes, I’m rather fed up with myself, and would like to be someone else for a while. Someone who could perhaps talk some sense to me. I need to step away from myself because I feel like slapping me.
I’ve checked the moon phases and the stars, and I can’t see anything which I can blame. Which is also annoying. I played on the sewing machine, and with my pastel chalks for a drawing, and produced two exceedingly twee looking mermaid heads. No tails. And that was the displacement activity from emptying the loft of work for the upcoming Open House. The displacement was necessary because I was being quite nasty about what I was looking at.
The Cat (That Isn’t Ours) is not impressed either. He just wants somewhere cosy to snuggle and there is just stuff everywhere. He is right. I think we might have a big bonfire and burn it all.
Maybe I should sleep on it.
Come and see the Cat and the Big Dolls (of course I didn’t mean THEM) during East Kent Artists Open Houses. I promise I’ll have got over “it” by then. Or else I’ll be doing a Tracey Emin.
Today:
Oooh look – Little UnDoll, made for the marvellous House of Smalls, is a runner up in the Mr X Stitch Contemporary Needlework Prize. I’m out from under the duvet and all is well. Still might have a big bonfire though, does seem like a good idea for some things. I quite like burning old artwork. Very satisfying – letting the spirit of crap art fly free. The Cat is wisely staying on the duvet. He’s not silly.
So yes, please do come and visit our Artists Open House. It will be OPEN. Other than that, who knows….
*by way of useless information – this was the name of my column in The Guardian, where I interviewed people about the day that changed their life. It was a great gig, and meant that I could indulge in my own particular obsessions, although at the very last minute, Nick Cave did change his mind. And I’d got to work early n all (which was as rare as unicorn poo, as you, dear reader, will be aware). The strangest experience was interviewing the Chinese singer Dadawa, who was originally (I’m pretty sure) from Tibet. There were twelve stoney faced officials also in the room, all of us sitting in a circle in the record company’s Soho office. Every question I asked was passed around the officials via the translator, and came back to me with a “no, you cannot ask that”. The worst experience was trying to interview the conceptual multi-media body artist Orlan at the ICA, however my editor was brilliant when I did finally get back to the office to lick my wounds, and explained to me how I had just learnt a valuable lesson in journalism: recognising when something is dead in the water.
Which brings us quite neatly back to the beginning of this blog. Knowing when to quit. Clearly this is not the time. Thankyou Jamie Chambers, AKA Mr X Stitch, for giving me the much needed boot up the whatsit.
Watches provided by Old Hands Watches, who will be bringing a selection of horology works along – measured Time alongside Once Upon A Time, you see. You know it makes sense.
Recently The Engineer and I have enjoyed a few Holi-days; unplanned Uncle Wiggilys that might be just a morning, or an unexpected day, or two. At the beginning of last week I was rather too relaxed, and thinking I could quite happily remain sitting in the van looking at poppies blowing in an incoming storm all whilst snug as a bug in a rug: no stitching, no dolls nagging…
Of course it wasn’t long before there came some loud and clear ‘ahem-ing’ from inside my head. I should of course be being doing stuff. July, it turns out, is a busy month. And there is more to come too – it is time to dust of the diary and actually use it.
Below is a round-up of what and where I’m (or my work) is up to over the coming weeks.
DOLL an exhibition at The House of Smalls An inspiring exhibition of all art Doll is now open at this amazing gallery in Chipping Camden in the Cotswolds. Little Un-Doll and Little Edie (who is somewhat bigger) have been allowed out to play. So far so good. The exhibition is packed with fabulous work from the minds of some of my favourite contemporaries.
SMALL TEXTILES at Frontier Art Gallery One of two exhibitions taking place in this Sheffield Gallery, opening on 20th July with a private view on the evening on 19th, to which all are welcome. The Key that must not be used from my Grimm Fitcher’s Vogel retelling is one of many small textiles accepted into this group show.
PEEP SHOW at Don’t Walk Walk Gallery At this “funky treasure pod by the sea” in Deal, Nicole Bates is exhibiting some of her intricately stitched profane embroidery, and she has invited the tattooed and pierced doll Isobel to join her work. This exhibition will be behind a modesty curtain in the back room, and opens on 21st July.
WHITSTABLE POP UP :We Sell By The Sea Alma Caira and I are booked for the opening weekend of this ambitious new pop up market in Whitstable High Street – so come and visit this Thursday 20th July to Sunday 23rd July. Regular followers of mine will know that Alma and I have often worked together over the years, and my mermaids love nothing more than sitting in one of her beautiful glass bowls nibbling her trademark fused glass fish. Alma is always very tolerant about this behaviour, which is just as well as it could be the end of a beautiful friendship! The venue is the old Cains Amusement arcade, which became a food shop, and has been closed for quite some time. I love the vision the We Sell By The Sea team have had to take on this space, so let’s all support them and wish them huge success.
Talking of diaries: A later date, or dates, for your diary are those for the East Kent Artists Open Houses, where I shall once again be back in my own home with my “once upon a time” art, alongside the Engineer with his love of real mechanical time pieces. This takes place over three weekends, 14/15th, 21st/22nd and 28/29th October.
Now I really do need to crack on, otherwise there will be no mermaids come Thursday’s pop up. Which would be something of a disaster if one is known as the ‘mermaid lady’. Also apologies if you also subscribe to my newsletter, as unusually it is pretty much the same as this blog today. You might be amused to know that Mailchimp has given me a zero score for skimmability. Apparently I use too many words. Fancy that.
Yes, I know. Queen of the “has she nothing better to do?”, actually did. Hold the front page!
So, what was this?
Well, several months ago I was approached by a fellow textile artist and friend, to ask if I would be interested in participating in a gentle protest. The Isle of Wight Festival prides itself on its sustainable credentials, however, the Festival sponsor for 2023 is Barclays Bank. Barclays have been the biggest funders of oil and gas companies in Europe since 2016. Companies have used Barclays money to extract fossil fuels, harming communities and habitats across the world. Which is not exactly sustainable, is it?
The plan was for five textile artists, working under the title of Rainy Day Women, to embroider an Isle of Wight Festival poster posing the question “Stitched up by Barclays?” The embroideries were designed specifically to connect with the wonderful graphic history of festival posters and the psychedelic artwork of the ’60s graphics, looking to artists such as Wes Wilson, Victor Moscoso and Bonnie MacLean for inspiration.
Wes Wilson created the flowing lettering that looks as though it is moving, almost illegible at first glance. “If people care enough, they’ll lean in and look closer” he said. Perfect. That was exactly the aim of the project – to entice people to lean in and look closer.
I was particularly drawn to a Wes Wilson poster for a 1966 show “The Sound” featuring Jefferson Airplane and Muddy Waters, with a large nude dominating the poster. Not a sexualised nude but one who looks free. I also obviously couldn’t help but notice John Giddings 2013 festival poster, which featured a rather Jim Fitzpatrick style mermaid, a more wispy and confined figure than Wilson’s nude.
Placing the Earth behind my mermaid (who came out a little stiffer and less free flowing than I would ideally have liked) I added the wording “don’t let your festival cost the earth”.
Working on calico which I painted with watercolour, I then stitched using a lot of split backstitch, keeping the individual stitches small so that they would retain detail once the embroidery was enlarged to poster size.
The completed embroideries were photographed and printed as high quality posters which were put up in every single bus shelter across the Isle on the first morning of the 2023 Festival. Huge banners were also printed, and these were hung from the Newport Harbour bridge. They looked brilliant.
Festival goers and locals alike admired the beauty of the posters, and as in the cases of Wes Wilson’s wording, they leant in, looked closer – and learnt.
Volunteers gave out leaflets explaining the project, the problems with Barclays and how people can act. You can find out too, here.
This project has been an inspiration in so many ways, and I am delighted to have been invited to be a Rainy Day Woman.
whitstabletail 