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Before I go …

April 12, 2019

I had a great plan to tell you all about my next steps as regards my ‘going’ to university; but  I felt I hadn’t quite finished about the sacks.  In the end I completed 10 and they have been exhibited and enjoyed.

I didn’t have big plan but I was ‘angry’ about the slave trade, aware of a cover up on all levels and my un-knowledge. With a lot of carefully selected embroidery threads and some gathered knowledge as regards the coffee plant at least, I began to stitch.  Not to make the sacks beautiful or hide their use.  They were the result or product of an industry that is reflected in Rio itself; with its grime, oppression and guilt and then its beauty, taste and surrounding culture.

Gradually they grew, blossomed and remarkably finished and as the sacks were noticed and I talked about my journeys.

The stories, with the sacks and the heartache of leaving my daughter in her home so far away year after year was difficult to reconcile.  Some people tried to connect the two and suggested that the grief, sacks and their embroidery where symbiotic and that my art was therapy   Believing that embroidery was a bit like water colour to oil painting as restful and therapeutic.  That too, took some explaining, missing your daughter is one thing and doing embroidery is something else.  Like drawing or any art, embroidery takes skill, practice, focus and determination. I don’t just pick up a needle and sew.

Then, there is expressing one’s self without words and that I did find hard; so, I had to add narrative in the form of haiku.  Not to just tell the story but to say more that this is not a table mat to drape and look lovely, it is not here to hide the vacuum cleaner, its telling you that all that glitters is not gold, coffee (and cotton and that’s another story) may delight the many it has harmed many more in its production.

Coffee sacks ….

April 10, 2019

While I was print making, I discovered that the light faded pretty soon after lunch. So, I tried doing other things that didn’t require such intense light. Then I remember the sacks I had seen in Rio.

My daughter lives in Rio de Janeiro and we have been visiting her annually for 9 years.  For most of that time she has lived in a favela among 100,000s of key city workers.  While she does now live in a more comfortable apartment it is not semi-detached suburbia.  Hotels, apartment blocks, shops, restaurants, favelas and offices are built cheek by jowl; there is little green space and the blue sky is hardly visible.  In the busy city, people just make the most of their tiny space covering the less attractive bits and finding light and green when needed.  It is a fabulous city and with a resident guide we were lucky enough to see that and the stunning beaches, mountains and forests.

Nonetheless, it is the city and its grime that seems more attractive.  Coffee- come- music -come – book shops have become our preferred watering holes when sightseeing.  They too, little or large. wonderful or less so, are wedged between the side of a mountain and anything between a multi-storey carpark, a Bank, a wooden shack or indeed was an ex colonial building.  None of which were designed for use having little or no storage space any nook and cranny was used to store stock and unsightly cleaning materials.  It was often a coffee sack that was nailed or hung over a piece of string; mostly very shabby probably hung there for decades.  Part of me felt the urge to tidy it up and then other found pleasing; but Rio is like that.

That wasn’t the only time I saw sacks, or the cloth used to make sacks, in use.  In the market there was a stall that sold rather lovely table cloths and napkins made with sack cloth dyed to a multitude of colours and fringed so delicately; beyond recognition. It seems to have been traditional slave-trade product now for the tourists.  For me it was a little overdone but perfect for those who really wanted to see Rio, the slave trade and the sacks tidied up a bit.

It was my first encounter with dirty old sack that inspired me to look out for some sacks to take back home.  That proved to be impossible so it wasn’t until I got home when I found a supplier I could begin work.

So I did retire …

April 9, 2019

So, I did retire and enjoyed the freedom and opportunity to work in my own Studio …. I do have various presses now but at first, I was using a spoon!  Nonetheless, I kept busy and was able to sell work in exhibition’s and galleries throughout the year and in time even discovered other ways to be creative.  I found textile art! Which proved to be ‘acceptable’ in the exhibition spaces and sellable. Sadly, art spaces in Reading are at a premium and people are not buying art .  I had to make some realistic decisions if I wanted to work and not make money not even enough to cover my costs.

So,  with some consideration I decided to invest my last little bit of my pension to fulfil my dream to go to art college.  I will not make a penny in fact I will be penniless but I will retire a happy lady.   Not counting the days yet as I Brazil first in 18 days …

Preparing to retire …

April 8, 2019

Still very happy working at the Library, when my daughter moved to Rio and I could no longer commit so much time to ITAS and a time for a natural break came. That, and the idea that I might consider retirement and the fulfilment of my own dreams.  I began gathering and sifting my previous knowledge and its relevance to a more personal creative future.

So how does this seemingly dry and dusty career lead to me wanting to fulfil a dream to become an artist. As a 16 year old was talented I may even been gifted for whatever reason it went under the radar.   However, I did learn other skills that took me into creative world but from another direction

Moving to Reading in 1980s I wasn’t sure of the job opportunities; the library was not foreseen  yet.  I took what was available in cars sales and advertising; not very enlightening but soon found myself as a volunteer wardrobe mistress for the Reading Operatic Society.  They put on shows twice a year at the Hexagon. I undertook this role for 6 years until my third child was born.  They were big productions and I worked closely with the choreographer.  It was an exciting chance to use my buying skills when hiring costumes from agencies and the imaginative opportunities were more about making a size 10 frock fit a rather larger frame or vice versa.  With my child in Sunday school Beavers and Cubs Again, not far away from creative world.

After a short break I returned to work, in the Bank.  Here I was given to opportunity to do an Open University Degree in Art and Humanities including art history, philosophy, Classical history, enlightenment etc and being able to take a step nearer my dream.

As explained I was ‘only’ library assistant which allowed me to have a more light-hearted approach to the subject matter.  I wasn’t paid to be important; giving me time to enjoy the materials in a professional environment.  Almost forming relationships with artists and craftsmen dead and alive dipping and in and out of their lives for colleagues and researchers as I retrieved and returned requested materials.

During this time, I began a blog called Living, libraries and dead languages; posting daily about my life in and out of the Library mostly about items found during other researches; snapshots of the unseen. I became popular and I enjoyed writing.  When I retired I changed its name but seemed less hopeful.  Posting from my printing room and Instagram proved to be in more interactive and relevant.

I attended lectures during my lunch breaks regularly and also staff training each Friday morning during term time (for 18 years) as staff members we could choose from a small selection of sessions.  Everyone including the Librarian, it was staff lead. It could be a visit to another department in the University, to another establishment in the town, learn conservation and book binding, or be just health and safety or customer care.  Again, learning that goes unnoticed.

Also, I discovered that other colleagues were members of local creative groups not just art but drama, creative writing, singing, dancing etc. so, I found my way into other community where I could enjoy art hands on and long before I retired I was learning printmaking, illustration, book binding, letterpress with local artists and those further afield as I gained confidence. I am now fully practicing artist and exhibiting with the Reading Guild of Artists.

It seems that we can learn skills and some take us in the wrong direction but I was a good clerk and provided well for my home and family that was not without the trauma and upset can contribute to my being a creative person.

The path could have gone else where ?

April 7, 2019

Studying and a round cycle trip of 20 miles to and from work was becoming a problem and my prepubescent child was needing ‘mum’ a bit more.  As the degree was progressing well, I was in a position to apply for non-academic posts at Reading University ,a short walk away from my home.  Soon I was offered a job in the Library in the University. After graduating I was promoted to work in Special Collections  The role was unique as a library assistant, while it was not an academic post,  I found myself working with a range of professionals; cataloguers, archivists, museum curators, book binders, conservators and a range of social media opportunities. Supporting the academic staff and researchers the work was vital and mundane, heavy and dusty.  I undertook training mostly in house but some at Library school in London. I worked with rare books, archival materials and books relating to the publishing of books, such as book design, typography, book jackets, book binding, graphic design, illustration etc.

While working with rare books I was able to use my  Greek and Latin knowledge; during this time a colleague suggested that I learned Sanskrit so I attended SOAS weekly at a night class for 4 years and also ‘played’ with Classical Tibetan and I became a volunteer cataloguer at the Institute of Asian Studies in Malaga … for 6 years I went to Spain 4  times a year to work with the materials in the library;  books and manuscripts connected with Buddhism as it went from India to Tibet and the culture surrounding it.   A tiny team that supported scholars from Canterbury University and students from all over the world interested in the promotion of Buddhism. I was here I learned about ‘communication and the use of Social Media and blogging.

So now the drip drip and the tiny reminders of the lovely things of life …

Nearly there …

April 6, 2019

Being single, with a beat up old Mini to maintain and to be less reliant on by good friends and family I had to take a second job as a barmaid to pay my rent for one room and shared kitchen and bathroom was difficult enough with out dreams except one day my family would be together again.

Then I found a flatmate who became my husband it was great we could share resources and eventually raised a mortgage and bought a tiny house in Reading. So, my prayers were answered.  Job hunting began again still there was no computers and I was at least a reasonable Accounts clerk.  I worked for Thames Valley Trading selling advertising until I got pregnant with my third child.  When dear Maggie dropped the married man’s tax allowance and the poll tax came in; our house was in negative equity we were broke again.  I had to return to work and my husband doing night school and exams had to do a second job it was horrible it was if I had been here before. I was difficult as now need costly child care; relying on friends again was not good.  However, she soon was at school and I found work that I do around her.  I was a kitchen assistant meanwhile I took a class or to learn about computers that were now in common use.  As soon as she became more independent. I got a job a 24 hour bank that I could reach easy on my bike.  On the plus side the bank were keen for staff to undertake training outside the bank and were very pleased to pay half of the  fees for BA in Art and Humanities so for the next 6 years I burned the midnight oil reading and writing and spending weekends at courses it was very had work and my family were all again supportive and I could dream about the outcome ….

Gets worse before it gets better ….

April 5, 2019

It was 1977 I walked out of my comfortable semi-detached home and I left my husband and two children. It had been a difficult marriage and I was left with no alternative.  (Leaving is another story to be told) So with a small case of belongings and £60 cash I found my way to Watford where my sister was living in homeless accommodation since she had be turned out of tied accommodation when her partner became redundant,  So living with her was on a very much as and when so then I started sofa surfing for two years so that I could find work and save the deposit for a home of my own or at least the rent.   Fortunately, my mother bought be a car so that I could see the children each weekend until I had a home. With that and finding a job I was hopeful for the time being.  The job was In the Buying Department of a Paper Mill not only a paper mill but one was that is world renown as the maker of Croxley Script and that was the tip off the iceberg the paper was beyond compare its bread and butter was the providing of paper for Lady Bird Books,  Sadly, it operations where in a time warp. The wood pulp arrived from Canada via the docks in Tilbury  in London along the Grand Union Canal and man handled to was Burma Run … where the paper was made, sometimes the paper went through the mill three or more times until it was perfect and after the  first run we had made a loss! The Paper was cut with elderly equipment; while state of the art equipment  stood without the know how of use and the Union men watching more closely when there was a risk that the work load was cut,  After the paper was cut it was sent to the salle so that woman could hand count for packaging … they were perfect and won prize for their accuracy … but again there was equipment to do that but they too were discarded. I was happy there lots to learn but it was pulled down and other Dickenson Robinson Groups this thrive along the tow path.  Nearly 1980 …