Craving the coast

 

Anyone else craving the coast? We’ve spent so much time at home during this year, lockdown has made my world feel really small. Daily walks have taken me through woodland and to local green spaces, which I love, but nothing feeds the soul like the coast. I’m feeling the lack of big skies, breathtaking blues, the light that only the coast brings and it seems to be echoed in my work.

 

I’m finding myself increasingly reaching for pebble greys, slate and soft sand colours which remind me of one of my favourite beaches in North Somerset. Kilve beach is one of the most spectacular geological treats I’ve ever seen. Originally enticed by the promise of fossils, it was so much more than I could’ve imagined.

                 

Layered limestone, shale and shingle cliffs creep down into the sea at unbelievable angles, creating beautiful rock formations, rock pools and striped bands of colour. Texturally, it’s a photographer’s dream, and it’s a place that has inspired me deeply.

   

I’m finding yarn-based, constructed textiles processes are giving me the opportunity to capture the textures and structures organically, and I’ve been knitting and weaving a lot recently. I’m suddenly driven to work on a much larger scale than normal, finding myself shrouded in these pieces as they grow.

    

These images are close ups of sections of a couple of pieces I’m currently making. Alongside making, I’m in the process of re-doing my website, it’s been an interesting task, trying to catalogue and organise my work. It’s really made me think about overriding themes within both my textiles and jewellery, and the undeniable pull that coastal landscapes have for me.

Keep an eye out for my new website, you can find more of my work at www.juliawright.co.uk

    

 

Textile responses

This week I've been exploring different constructed textile processes to capture texture. Weave is so time consuming but there's something nice about the pace, it's quiet and calming.

I particularly enjoy working in neutral yarns to focus entirely on texture. But knit and crochet are processes I always come back to simply because of the freedom and potential they offer.

I usually work with around 5 knitting needles at once, leaving stitches hanging on double ended needles, the way you do when creating cables. In this way I can create wonky rows and clusters of stitch by knitting back and forth mid-row.

The loops are made by using very large needles in and amongst smaller ones.

I get my favourite yarns from a lovely lady who runs Habu Textiles. She is based in New York and Kyoto and visits the UK occasionally for things like the Knitting and Stitching Show. I stock up on carefully selected unusual fibres like 'fique', from the pineapple family, kibiso silk and paper moire. 

They are so beautifully packaged it's almost a shame to use them, so I only use small strands to capture the effect I want. 

Moss pods

I have been thinking about making these for such a long time, I love the idea of creating hollow forms, with spaces inside to contain things. Hidden things, secret things, precious things. I love lockets, but find traditional designs really limited and predictable, so I decided to make my own variation.

 

These pod forms contain very small crochet and felt elements, which are based on moss, funghi and lichen growth. I like the way lichen grows in cracks and crevices, it asserts itself and thrives in the smallest spaces. It has resilience and vigour whilst being delicate and beautiful. Rich in colour, pattern and texture, I am always drawn to it. 

I have been exploring ways to recreate it with knit, crochet, felt and hand stitch for a long time, gradually reducing the thickness of the threads and the scale of my work, until I have arrived at these very teeny pieces. 

The contrast in texture between the metal and threads appeals to me, and the making techniques make me happy. The process of quietly constructing crochet forms is gentle, calming, soft and intuitive. It is in stark contrast to working in metal. Sitting at my workbench sawing, filing, hammering and soldering is labour intensive and methodical; planning the step by step stages of construction to factor in melting temperatures, and the need to constantly clean, sand and refine. There is a discipline to it, and working on such a small scale means every detail counts. As whole pieces, making and combining the very different elements satisfies my love of these different ways of working. I make because I enjoy making. 

This new work will be launched at The British Craft Trade Fair in Harrogate this weekend. I am curious to see what people think of it.

knit pieces

I love to make things, motivated by a constant curiosity which I find hard to satisfy, always wanting to learn new techniques and pick up ones I haven't used for a while. It's cyclical; flurries of creativity in one material or technique, until something else catches my eye.

These are some of my knitted neckpieces, inspired by things that always move me- faded seashore colours, textures of eroded finds washed up on the beach, smooth pebbles, lumpy seaweed, driftwood, old rope.

They are made from treasured old fabrics which remind me of precious things, times, people. The buttons I inherited from my great grandma's button box, the shredded silks were leftovers from countless wedding and bridesmaid dresses painstakingly made by my mum.

I love the idea of having these materials re-purposed, giving them new life and the chance to be enjoyed. Recycled materials, reinterpreted memories.

Making these feeds my love of texture, creating contrasting surfaces using different thicknesses of threads and fibres and different sized knitting needles to vary the stitch size.