Were-wabbit

Scary rabbits ahoy!

hop... hop... RaWR!

Last night, I sat up far too late trying to read a library book that's due back tomorrow. I've already renewed it once, perhaps even twice. So I know our days as associates and friends are numbered.

magical mystery moths

The book? Traditional Embroidered Animals, by Sarah Don. It's a compendium of animal embroidery images, including some patterns and plenty of stitch diagrams, for stitchers who are inspired by medieval and Tudor embroidery.

My, my, what handsome tailfeathers you've got!

I've been inspired by gorgeous old textiles before. When we were in London last July, I spent whole days in the V and A's Textile Study room, staring at the amazing embroideries, pulling out drawers and gazing at the delights. (If you go to London, slip away and get to the Textile Room. The guards will show you what you can access, and believe me, it's a lot! Give yourself an hour or more, just for that room alone....)

So far, so good, I was thinking... I like the peacock, and love the owl in a pear tree. The rabbit's a bit on the wild and woolly side. But then.... holy frogspawn, batman -- what's this?!

What's going on here?

(click on it to get a better look)

Apparently it is a youth riding a frog. We are told it comes from Konrad Gesner's collection, Historia Animalium, of 1551. Must have been a wild year, that year of the big frogs. C'mon historians, now's your time to jump up and yell "Allegorical Significance! Allegorical Significance!" Meaning -- "We haven't the faintest idea."

London life

I'm going to make a confession: I'm a little overwhelmed by London. Maybe it's not the city itself, because I'd like to think that having been here dozens, even hundreds of times before, for work and for play, I'm not completely unused to it.


But it's the old London quandary: there is something interesting happening at every single minute of every single day, and I am just going to have to accept that I will miss things. Like Hampton Court Palace, or a concert at the Wigmore Hall. -And any number of exhibitions that sound interesting, or downright fascinating.

Am I complaining? No, definitely not. I'm on holiday, I'm fascinated by the wealth of arts and popular culture here, but I have to accept that there are only so many hours in the day, and that like many humans, I need to sleep! (And, alas! you still have to do laundry when on holiday, when you've been away as long as we have).

So for today, our last day in London, I am resisting the urge to run around in circles, hyperventilating at the prospect of leaving so much richness, and just zen it on through.

Tired, but happy.

B

Just doing a bit of ironing...

I threatened to tell you more about the V&A: and here it is!


One of the great things about the V&A is that the collections are divided, in many cases, by the material. So, Ironwork has its own galleries, which are arranged regardless of the date or country of manufacture of much of the material, in general.

These galleries upstairs hold piece after piece of iron work; gates, grilles, torch brackets, locks, decorations, and all manner of glorious and intriguing things. Black on white walls, shape after shape; it's heaven for any quilter or embroiderer or confirmed pattern-hunter like me.


How about these scrolled beauties, and the phoenix-like birds with branches in their beaks?



And these two really made an impression: I would love to embroider or applique the tree. And look closely, down to the left....


There's a silhouette of a man working metal, his force and implements:


Oh arr, heavy metal delights. That's what I call inspiration!

B

Sunshine on The Sun

I hear that London doesn't get sunshine often. And that's borne out as truth by what I see ... rain, rain, and more rain.... with a sudden break for a spot of sunshine, shining on the aptly-named Sun Tavern.


Don't you love those two dark round windows, and the bold red and white scheme?

B

Days of discovery and delight

Quiet afternoons in hushed halls, the smell of varnished old wood, and a gentle rustling creak as another visitor slips through the door to pass through the long gallery next door.


These are the little memories I want to take home of my recent afternoons in the textile study room at the V&A museum, London.

The big memories? Well, the big memories are of Persian and Egyptian beauties, unfathomably old, resting in silent dark drawers that any visitor can open to view.


What was this portrait for, and made by whom? Who wove rough Coptic imagery into a band for a tunic - and which child wore it? What 5th century hands worked the intricate embroidery of white thread onto the woven rough black ground?

- And whose sleeve was decorated with this embroidered panel of birds and flowers?


Do we know much about the young stitcher in Italy, who worked her sampler carefully with letters and patterns, trees, people and birds - but not her name?


The V&A makes the material in the study collection open to anyone who wants to explore.

It's a bit like being invited into a warehouse of colourful sweets. Should I pull out the drawers labelled "Embroidery - Europe: Italy" - or "Woven textiles - Persian 12-15 centuries". What about Medieval tapestries? Venetian lace? Samplers, Northern Europe. Persian knitted items. Printed textiles, 20th century?

My head was spinning.



Knitted Persian purses.

So I settled (reluctantly) for one hour exploring embroidered fabrics of any origin and date. -And then I managed to sneak off again today on my own to look at lots more. (- And I intend to do it again....)

I feel as if I have been dipping my toe into a very big, very deep ocean. I'm not sure what's in there, and I suspect it will carry me away into new ideas and a growing impulse to study this material for real. After all, I'm just an amateur and one time art historian who has taken the opportunity that is free to anyone - come to the V&A, claim a desk in the quiet of the textile study room, and carefully lift out a glass drawer from the rows and rows of heavy Victorian wooden cabinets. And think. And look, draw, and wonder.


I think my favourite was the Persian sleeve-ornament; a panel of symmetrical, densely-worked chain stitch decoration, with birds, stems and flowers, lotus and, I think, tulips, all on an indigo-grey blue dark silk ground.

Look at those fat little birds, and the regular paisleys - all the same and yet all slightly different, each one stitched by hand.

Here's an overview of the design:


Stay tuned, because I think you're going to be hearing more about this place....

Interesting links:

• The Embroidery pages from the V&A - this is a wonderful online resource, and I'll use it when I'm back in Melbourne and can't get to see the real goods! There's lots to explore, including links to downloadable patterns, blogs and other sites of interest.
• The V&A Textile Collections home page
• One of the Italian Samplers has better photos on the V&A website
• Embroidery Pattern Books 1523-1700

Have fun and explore some!

Art can be lonesome at times...

Spotted at the main entrance to the National Gallery, Trafalgar Square.

B

Oo, I keep falling down! *

* The title refers to Napleon's Piano - did anyone else grow up with the Goon Show?

While in London, staying with our friends Andy and Lourdes, the talk turned to crafts and knitting, and it turns out that Andy's nan is a wonder-knitter, turning out the most intricate and charming characters for the children.

The British Bobby policeman was amazing! He's a stuffed doll, about 14-16 inches high, with the uniform, the pockets, the badges, even some carefully applied rouge to make his cheeks blush.


These are not the best photos in the world (spot the wineglass in the background...), but I was so delighted by her skill that I had to take a couple to show you.

There's a policeman, and fireman, too.


And a whole family of ducks, full of character with their bouncy rotund bellies, flappy wings and bobble hats.


Don't they just look like they are exclaiming with glee?


"Hurrah!"
"Yippee!"
"Quack!"

Kitsch delight. I love it, and I wish I could knit like this....

Inspiration is just around each corner

We're still on the road, but we've reached our half way rest point, which is J's father's house in Yorkshire, UK. How lovely it was to arrive here, to be met at the station and to whisk away up the steep hilly streets lined with familiar grey stone houses and tall terraces.

And then it poured with rain all day, so I felt not the lest bit guilty for spending most of the day in bed, or on the sofa with a gripping, old-fashioned murder mystery.

The travel we've done so far: Italy, France, Germany and Denmark, has been exciting, challenging, interesting, at times frustrating, and often times exhausting.

(Leeds railway station, UK)

I felt at times as if the image inspiration bucket was all filled up and spilling over the edges, and I just needed to go and sit on a park bench, or a sea wall somewhere, and think nothing thoughts, or just thoughts of colour, fabric and no real ideas...

(Helsingor castle grounds, Denmark)

But the main thing I think of on this trip are the people we have met and the unexpected discoveries, which stand out all the more for being unexpected. Like the Commedia dell'Arte pantomime at the Tivoli Gardens, with Pierrot and Harlequin dancing and miming; or the enthusiastic art student in Florence who recommended we go to a service at the Badia Fiorentina, an enormous greek-cross church with huge arches disappearing into light and incense smoke above, and nuns coming and going, coughing and then, finally, singing....


(A cafe we found in Copenhagen, just at the moment when one more tourist cafe would have made us scream, and when we wanted good coffee, books, university types and .... delicious cookies. Ah, those cookies.)

We don't have pictures of many of the most memorable things - we just talk about them and recall them to each other, and that's a different sort of trip memory. The photos stay the same - they almost ossify the memories - but the stories, well, they change with every telling.

(J. photographed Copenhagen's weather predictor: the lady with the bicycle comes out when it will be sunny; she has a dog and an umbrella when it will rain. Both were attempting to come out at the same time, and yes, we had rain and sun.)

When we arrived in London, we went to see some wonderful old friends and their many children (three friends, five children), and we also managed to slip away into central London for half a day. For J. it was coming home and seeing old sights, but even there, there were unexpected delights.

(Neal's Yard, Seven Dials - wonderful Neal's Yard Remedies shop, and the Neal's Yard Dairy and the Monmouth Coffee Co. are just around the corner.... Stinking Bishop cheese and a Colombian dark roast, anyone?)

... And other new surprises such as the King's Library, in the British Museum, now a display area for themes such as Trade, Language, and Myths and Magic, with wonderful objects from the collections here and there:


We even saw a set of golden horns that we had read about two days before, in Denmark, and which were stolen and melted down for the gold. But two copies exist - and we stumbled across one of those copy sets in this library: serendipity.


And the Great Court is always a lovely space when you need to stop and stare up at the ceiling for a while, while resting tired paws.