Introduction - Discovering Our Place In The Contemporary Community Textile Artist World

Art has the ability to connect us to ourselves and to one another, transcending divisions such as experience, class, age and education. As a contemporary community textile artist with deep roots in the history of weaving and now embryonic ones in Derbyshire (the centre of the Industrial Revolution and in particular weaving), I've spent years already and will continue exploring how narratives, memories, and emotions can be woven into pieces to bring about intra and inter personal connection.

I wish to create works that resonate with personal and collective stories, allowing the viewer to recognise themselves within them. Textile art is like mycelium to me, forging often unseen but powerful connections.

Through my latest project, 'Phoenix From The Bin' (see photograph below), I allowed myself to delve deeper into the importance of visibility, vulnerability and connection within creativity. For around a year, I worked on this piece as I travelled, building it from the things I found, the communities I met and the emotions I felt.

In this blog post, I share not only my artistic journey of how I made this work but also seek to encourage others to sense, fully embrace and develop their own creative self.

As I intend to exhibit this work I encourage you to come and look at it for yourself; I will be your virtual gallery companion should you need it.

Together, we can break down the barriers that often make art seem intimidating and celebrate the beauty of shared experiences and engagement. Let's discover our places in this vibrant artistic landscape!

The Right To Be A Contemporary Community Textile Artist Is Not Given But Earned -Needs Fulfillment

As a UK travelling contemporary community textile artist I find inspiration in the stories, things and memories surrounding me. My view of the world this year has been constantly challenged, rebuilt and refined as I journey globally and lean into the places and people I find.

Each personal piece I make uses a sort of object 3D collaging technique combining experiences, thoughts and emotions through thread. My works are not only hand-stitched textile creations but also a part of me.

I've longed to be seen, really seen, since childhood but haven't done much about it to be perfectly frank. However, I can see why I don't instinctively adopt this stance, as it also, ironically, terrifies me. It has the potential to make me vulnerable and open to infinite levels of hurt. Being an empath, my natural way is one of self-protection. This blog post describes why I made 'Phoenix From The Bin' in the way I did - and meets this 'seen' desire by hurtling headlong into the fear through honest sharing, I hope I've done enough so you can see me.

This post complements a previous one, 'Embracing Vulnerability: A Creative Year To Earn The Right To Be A Collaborative Contemporary Community Textile Artist,' in which I describe my belief that you have to earn the right to lead community groups and encourage vulnerability by being creatively vulnerable too.

A further need I have is to deeply consider the techniques and objects I use to ensure that I work as environmentally friendly as possible, inspiring others to do the same. I made a promise to this in my manifesto. Creating meaningful textile art does not have to be difficult, expensive or consume excessive natural resources. Let me show you how.

The last need emanates from my time as a community engagement officer in the arts sector; I've seen how some people long to understand the stories behind a piece to connect more deeply, whilst some believe they should instinctively know a work's secrets to feel comfortable and 'proper' in a gallery. This blog addresses the longings of the first group by revealing why I did what I did, and to the second, I've attempted to demonstrate that their belief is not true - it's okay to see whatever you like in art; for me, there are no audience rules on how to properly participate, view, or respond. I intend to exhibit this piece and support your experience.

Let's start with encouraging each person to participate; as a contemporary textile artist I intend to show this piece and would like you to see it if circumstances allow or go and see the works of others if they don't.

The Top 5 Rules Of Looking At A Textile (Or Any) Art Piece By Itself Or In A Gallery

I absolutely loved working with individuals in building their confidence to explore galleries and museums—it's such a rewarding experience to see them discover the joy of art and culture. These often large institutions with oversized doors and mysterious ways of behaving are the last places some people want to visit. However, you should because:

Can you see that I'm passionate about all people occupying these spaces? There was no other recommendation apart from 'go back/again!' Let me be your virtual creative confidence cheerleader to encourage you to go and see my piece (or any piece), even if you've never been to a gallery before.

The Contemporary Canvas Base Of A Textile Art Piece: Recycle, Reuse, Repurpose

Let's have a detailed look at the work I made this year. Below is a view of 'Phoenix From The Bin' showing where some of the items came from to enhance your understanding:

When I start to create, I usually give myself a leg-up by starting with something small that will be used as the foundation; I'll add to as I go along. Think of it as beginning with a tiny shed and building on more and more extensions until you have a cathedral. Sometimes, these base elements become covered entirely by the exciting things I find or want to stitch about. Still, they're incredibly important and carefully chosen to provide stability, structure or design. These root sections usually come from my stash. Did I mention,

People give me interesting things, I find items, or buy meaningful effects from charity shops or eBay. You just never know when something will become helpful in a work. In 'Phoenix From The Bin,' I started with:

Making A Portable Textile Shrine

Netzhualcoyotl, the ruler of the ancient Mexican city-state of Texcoco, late 1400s

I have been fascinated by shrines since travelling in my late teens. My interest began during a visit to Bulgaria, where I purchased a small wooden brown-hinged triptych featuring Christian iconography. Later, while in Japan, I admired simple structures built around trees that beautifully combined natural elements with spiritual significance. I boast of owning another three-part shrine made from a bamboo stem holding tiny figures depicting the nativity - a potential portable spiritual companion.

This year, I had the opportunity to experience a Balinese shrine up close during my stay at an Airbnb in Bali. On this same trip, while walking to a local café, I found some discarded Balinese coins that had been used as shrine offerings. They were lying in the mud alongside the path. This encounter inspired me to create my own shrine while travelling. It's strange to think of something so prized as these coins, given as a grand spiritual gesture, ending up discarded in the dirt (not dissimilar to the thrown-away beautiful handkerchiefs I use in my pieces.)

The most relevant type of shrine to create, in my opinion, was derived from the traditional nicho (or nicho box) design. A nicho is a three-dimensional display box in a South American folk art style, which initially combined Catholic iconography with multicultural spirituality, folk understanding and popular culture. Modern nicho boxes still hold true to the shrine ideology but can also be concerned with religion, society, politics and daily life.

When building a nicho, the main structure is a box of tin, card, glass or wood in which a key figure is surrounded by significant objects curated from everyday life. I love that items around the maker are collected and arranged into a 3d collage of beauty and meaning. I intended to create a nicho from the things, people, ideas and experiences gained from working in different countries and communities.

This vehicle seemed to offer a perfect ventricle and ideology for my travelling piece as I would intuitively closely be aligned to the Timothy S. Y. Lam Museum of Anthropology method in which he believes a nicho needs to be 'unique and special because it is filled with items that are special to the person who creates it.' My journey as a contemporary community textile artist has been one of exploration, vulnerability, and recognising the 'special' in the overlooked.

Standard nicho design components are:

• Hinged doors

• Decorative borders

• Multiple creative panels (usually three)

• Central figure or object for which the nicho has been created

• Striking colours

• Food and drink items

• Flowers (usually marigolds)

• Photographs

• Religious icons and images (such as a sacred heart)

• Everyday objects

• Heroes

• Shiney items (such as sequins)

• Charms

• Beads

• Items from Nature

  
  

My scavenging method of making usually adopts many of these components into my 'stash' family, so it felt a natural fit. The piece used these design rules as the methodology of gathering and creative composition.

'Phoenix From The Bin' is a fabric shrine hinged with two doors in the traditional style. Whilst it doesn't have a central box component, the pink woollen fabric blanket is the 'holder' of all items, wrapping and displaying them carefully.

Following nicho rules, there is a central figure to the work; it appears on the left of the central panel. A pale white face wears a considerable crown of suffrage ribbons, couched gold thread, beads, and a woollen star. Crowns feature widely in my work as a homage to the work of Basquiat; I echo how they depict power. I intend the power in my life to become consistently mine in the future; it has the tendency to slip away at times.

A second key figure of a paw-waving plastic Japanese cat is mounted at the top. I got this cat when visiting Japan for the Rugby World Cup. It used to sit on my desk with its solar-powered battery causing it to wave and melodically tick. Whilst I liked this sound, others around me in the new 'Executive Office' (shed at the bottom of the garage from where we work) didn't. I loathed to get rid of this folklore-steeped happy black kitty (known as a maneki neko or beckoning cat.) So, instead, it sits resplendent at the very top of the piece, celebrating travel, bringing fortune, and warding off illness and evil spirits. I have given this maneki neko a message in a bottle to carry aloft in addition to its job of waving, showing all that it is sometimes in distress and needs help.

You can never have enough symbols warding off evil, asking for help and beckoning in fortune (in my opinion), so other elements in the main body of the work are topped with crowns to elevate their power.

Found Objects: Layers of Meaning As A Contemporary Community Textile Artist

In every piece I create, my voice as a contemporary community textile artist is expressed through the materials I choose. Reflecting where I am, how I feel and who I am with comes a lot from the items I carefully stitch curate and adorn in place, whether that be Derbyshire, the UK or further afield.

Incorporating found objects has become a signature aspect of my work. For 'Phoenix From The Bin,' I gathered tiny treasures from local and international adventures—fragments of detritus thrown away by others (bottle tops), domestic items (shopping bags), small pebbles, and bits of rusted metal. These things tell their own stories, connecting the artwork to me, my home, the history of Derbyshire and all of the places I have been welcomed to as a visitor. Each object is stitched into the fabric, creating layers that add depth to the piece.

Stripes feature heavily in my work. Originally derived from Japanese iconography, I add them to depict a transition from one phase of my existence to another and the constant movement of life. Here, they also act as the traditional boarder element of a nicho. Most are made from ribbons from clothing tags, gifts, or even those that keep a garment on a hanger but end up being incredibly uncomfortable against the skin and get chopped off.

My practice has always been driven by being as climate-aware as possible and needing to produce art, which has required the minimum expenditure outlay. At times, I've had no money for heating, let alone to be artistic; being inventive has been necessary to satisfy my creative self. This poor income status became a happy accident in the development of my art, and I continue to find beauty in the forgotten and discarded despite being a little flusher as I get older!

Every contemporary community textile artist is responsible for engaging and inspiring their locality and removing barriers to creativity (inch-wide, mile-deep methodology.) The piece and this blog post describing its creation are intended to encourage all to have a go. In my opinion, there are few 'real' practical barriers apart from the self.

Textile Stitched Patterns: The Language of Connection

My stitching is a language in its own right. I employ various hand-stitching techniques, from delicate embroidery to robust sashiko patterns. I'm not concerned with the perfection of a mark. Instead, each stitch represents a connection, a moment spent creating. The rhythmic motion of stitching is meditative, allowing me to reflect on the connections within myself and between individuals in our community—friends, family, and even strangers who leave their mark on our lives. The patterns dance across the fabric, inviting you to trace the journey with your eyes and engage with the story being told. Secret: The smaller the stitches, the tenser the time.

On the left panel is a stitched statement, 'We'll dance as one.' These words, created chiefly from shopping bags, traditional fabric prints, and napkins, are taken from the song, 'God Gave Me Feet For Dancing' by the Ezra Collective. 

Their album became a sort of spiritual backing track to my journeys and stitching for the year. In describing its origin, Ezra band member Femi Koleoso said,

I say amen to all shaking away of 'badness' and celebrating life. My shrine ideology needed a message that transcended religion and promoted inclusion and understanding between all.

Other text elements concern what I'm thinking, feeling or an idea. I have long been a follower of the techniques of Lorina Bulwer, a woman sent to a UK workhouse/institution in the Victorian era. Here, she stitched her history in salvaged thread and fabric. I picture her as being incandescent with rage at times, naming and shaming, through stitch, those around her. Anger is an emotion that is a very distant cousin to me, but I wholeheartedly admire her ability to immerse herself in and share this feeling. In contrast, I merely whisper.

Showing The Reverse Side

I have no concern for the reverse of a piece as I create in terms of creative design. Instead, I prefer to let it care for itself and be a happy accident. Turning a piece over is interesting, having been intently working on the face to see what has happened beneath. It can be beautiful in a completely unintentional way. Exhibiting both the front and the back is considered. I wanted to show the beauty in the chaos of the back and reveal the mysteries of what goes into making a textile piece. Often, the pretty facade is not the reality in life. As I wrote at the beginning of this blog, I intended to be genuinely seen in life; the same is true of my creativity.

The Finishing Touch: A Contemporary Community Textile Artist Story Unfolds

As we wrap up this journey through my textile art world, I want to remind you how special your perspective is. Art truly belongs to everyone, and it's all about connection, discovery, and joy. My experiences as a Derbyshire, UK, contemporary community textile artist have shown me that we can all find a place in this vibrant landscape, no matter where we start.

As I intend to lean into the discomfort of really being seen by exhibiting my work, I wanted to encourage people to come and see the piece in person. In my experience, some need reminding that galleries are not intimidating spaces—you have every right to step inside and explore. Don't hesitate to visit these institutions, see art up close and personal, and embrace your unique interpretations to let your creativity shine.

So, whether you're an art enthusiast or just starting your journey, know that your voice matters. Let's celebrate our shared experiences and inspire each other to engage with art in a way that feels right for us.

As I step back to view 'Phoniex From The Bin,' I see not just a piece of art but a reflection of my surroundings, relationships, and experiences. The interplay of materials, colours, and textures culminates in a tapestry that celebrates the essence of community. All components, from the fabrics to the found objects, contribute to a narrative of connection, resilience, and shared history.

Each textile artwork I make is a testament to my journey and growth as a contemporary community textile artist. Creating this piece throughout the year has been a profoundly transformative experience, underscoring the importance of community and honesty, especially during these tumultuous times. I invite you to join me in exploring the intricate threads that connect us, contemplating the stories that shape our lives.

Thank you for being part of this journey with me.