The journey of two quilts

I’m currently looking at the Stitching the Wars quilts, I’m checking to see if there are any repairs to be made. They’re about to take another journey, this time their off to York to the Quilters’ Guild to be archived in their collection. While I’m stitching, making repairs my mind is musing about the life this quilt has already had.  It’s a quilt that is been made by many hands, (over 500 people contributed) some nimble, some inflicted with arthritis, seen by sharp eyes and those with limited sight. whilst making it people chatted, their minds wondered, they shared memories, day to day concerns and delights. For some the simple pleasure was working with rich colours,  many delighting in the pleasure of enjoying different textures of fabric in their hands, from silks to felts, to knits, velvets and tweeds, for people living with dementia, this multi sensory experience can be hugely beneficial.

Detail of the quilt, A Bomber's Moon.

Workshops took place in day centres, a hospice, craft groups, dementia cafes, Libraries, always with cups of tea and biscuits. Materials for the quilts was donated, brought from charity shops and occasionally from fabric shops. Fabric was dyed in big baths of colour, inspired by the Derbyshire landscape for a bombers moon and by colours associated with wealth and grandeur, for fresh air and  poverty.

As the quilts grew in size we found space to look at them and put them together where ever we could, whether that was the floor of a library, or the largest tables we could find. I would stand bouncing on a chair to try and get a view of the whole. When you are making quilts it’s all about the touch, then they take on a different life, in exhibitions, there is rarely touching allowed.

The quilt 'Fresh Air and Poverty' photographed at National Trust's Lyme Park © Garry Lomas

I am very keen that the work gets shown in a wide variety of venues. First of all the quilts get shown to the people who have collaborated in the making of them. Then we have mixed grand venues with more humble exhibition spaces. From the National Trusts Lyme Park,  a viewing by Prince Charles at the Farming Life Centre,  the walls at Buxton Art Gallery and Museum, they have sat along side books in a tour of Derbyshire libraries, and exhibited at Derbyshire Record Office, archives shown alongside photos from our book, and from Pictures of the Past.

Detail of 'A Bomber's Moon quilt

Every time I look at the quilts I see something different and memories are sparked for me, memories of the people who made the work and the stories they shared, the struggles they overcame to stitch, to remember. The delight in sharing,  the excitement in seeing the work coming together. The awards of having your voice and talents shared and respected.  As I look at it today the colours have never seen seemed so vivid, the work so full of life. I’ve had my hands  and eyes over every square inch of this quilt and yet I am seeing something new today. It’s nearly time for me to let them go and pass them on for another life and I can’t think of a better place for them to go to. In the safe hands of The Quilters' Guild, the quilts will be photographed, kept safe for posterity and will be a available for exhibitions, as learning tools, to be enjoyed and a record of all the people who helped make them. Seeing them today has reignited my passion for this art form there is so much more to explore and to share. I am thrilled that these two quilts that has meant so much to the people who have made them, will be looked after with so much care and shared around the world.                                                

"Tactile Poems"

On 22 July, we had the opportunity to discuss the Stitching the Wars quilts with Arts Council England Chief Executive Darren Henley and Arts Council Senior Manager Rebecca Blackman. 

The quilts are a collaboration with hundreds of older people in Derbyshire, describing the effect of the world wars on rural life. They interleave embroidery, patchwork, poetry, memory... Darren Henley: "These are beautiful. Tactile poems, they're rich on so many levels."

(Left to right) Philip Davenport, Rebecca Blackman, Darren Henley, Lois Blackburn.

We've been working on the final stages of making at Buxton Library, making handling samples to go in the exhibition and editing a book that will complement the artwork, in a public session. Rebecca Blackman: "The colours are uplifting, unbelievable - and the content is very moving." 

Bombers Moon quilt, detail

This project is funded by Arts Council England and is the recipient of a Foundation Derbyshire award. The quilts have been publicly exhibited in various stages of completion and will shortly go on tour around libraries and museums in Derbyshire and further afield. Many thanks to Buxton Library Services for their hospitality.

Fresh Air & Poverty quilt, detail

A Celebration of Landscape

Lyme Park, Disley, Cheshire

We are delighted to share the news that our quilt 'A Bomber's Moon', is currently on exhibition at Lyme Park, Cheshire as part of their Winter Exhibition, Lymescapes. 

The exhibition runs at the weekends, Sat 7th Nov - Sun 14th Feb 2016 also Monday 28th Dec and Fri 1st Jan. 11am- last entry 3pm. Free to National Trust members or £4 per adult.

arthur+martha artist Lois Blackburn, will be an artist in residence at Lyme Park Sunday 6th December.

'A Bomber's Moon at Lyme Park'

 

Stitching the Wars, is a collaboration between older people in Derbyshire and the arts organisation arthur+martha CIC, creating two quilts and poetry from their reminiscences rich with experience and feeling.  Our first quilt , ‘A Bombers Moon’, investigates the effect the 1^st and 2^nd World Wars had on the Derbyshire countryside and the people living on land.  

‘A Bombers Moon’ replicates an aerial view of fields and hillsides. Into this "landscape" are sewn key words and phrases that link to reminiscence and poems. Much of this quilt was made by groups including  people who have dementia and we couldn't fail to notice the beneficial effect that group stitching had, joining people together in a shared act of making that had short-term rewards (touch, colour, companionship, creativity) and an ambitious goal. This quilt project was recently given a Foundation Derbyshire Award for its mixture of inclusivity and creative ambition.

Stitching the Wars is resulting in a lasting legacy for everyone involved, a unique way of sharing and passing on older peoples histories. The quilts and poems act as celebration of lives lived, an act of community remembrance.

The Poem ‘A Bomber’s Moon’ runs around the edge

Bomber’s moon

Midnight, a bombers moon is

a full moon for seeing.

You’re tucked away, no messing about

feather bed in those days

goose feather, duck down

blanket an army coat

long bloody nights

when it was cold

The moon’s up, owls about

rats rattling in the long roof

under the slates, you can see stars in the gaps

brown paper under the sheets to soak up damp

sheep lice keep you warm, with  your itching

Midwife arrives

my brother Harry, my sister Aletia

a horrible winter

looking after sick children we light a fire

boiling water when my son had the croup.

Stoke the fire

water and salt, do your best

In memory

a gap in the clouds

all the bombers in formation

the Thousand Bomber Raid.

I well remember, small cloud banks,

a gap

all those bombers going,

quite slowly

to Germany.

Group poem, Social Group

The Farming Life Centre

Funding, support and partners: The Arts Council England, Derbyshire Community Foundation, Derbyshire Dales Council, Derbyshire County Council, Farming Life Centre, Age UK, The Alzheimer’s Society, New Mills Volunteer Centre and The Quilters Guild of Great Britain.

http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/lyme-park-house-and-garden/features/lymescapes-a-celebrationof-the-landscape

Syrup of Figs and Deadly Night Shade

The Social Club at the Farming Life Centre is constantly humming with conversation, accompanied with scones, tea and lemon cake. The theme this week for 'Stitching the Wars', moved from luxury and opulence, to home cures and remedies, to evacuees, Irish Travellers, tramps, prisoners of war and gypsies, as ever to much to put in one blog, so today it's home remedies...

'A Bomber's Moon', quilt detail. 

Remedies

Mostly it were ringworm, you went to the herbalist first, if they couldn't fix you, you went to the doctor.

Comfrey, they call it knitbone, you pick it and let it dry, use is as a poultice or soak your wrist or ankle in it. Pick the comfrey, let it dry, bind it up. Use it for rheumatism.

Goose fat on your chest.

Slippery elm when dad was poorly with sugar on.

Some kids had camphor round your neck to school. (or in balls for your clothes)

Sal Volatile in a little bottle, it took your breath

Epsom salts were a cure all

Foxgloves digitalis, for heart complaints, it can be lethal

All the girls with ponies would bring them for worming but walnut leaves and tobacco were just as good.  A bread poultice.

Didn’t tell ghost stories on the toilet to get you going…

Syrup of Figs or Cod Liver Oil.

Fennings Fever Cure, WD40 replaced all that.

And Deadly Night Shade to get rid of customers that didn’t pay!

Days and sons in Crewe, they had a box with a cow on the front. You rubbed their knees with the white oil

Remedies for animals

Half a bottle of Whisky

Cover the cow, or horse with hay and make it sweat then give it half a bottle of whisky

Oat meal gruel warm up the beer and dose the cows

Walnut leaves for working a horse

Turpentine and milk if they were ‘blown’.

Out in the wild they wouldn't have this problem there were herbs in the grassland that would cure anything.

Jays fluid, mint had arsenic in it they had to be dipped before they were washed

Policeman used to come and check we did it for long enough

If you were cut if could wrap it up tight enough you could carry on

Or the doctor had whisky or brandy around, he would reach a bottle from the top and told us to drink it.

My finger was hanging on by the skin, the local GP stitched it back on, took us home in the car afterwards.

Sometimes vets acted as doctors

Cobweb would stop them bleeding, dehorned with secateurs,

Horrible blood everywhere

A vet cost a Guinea a visit and a doctor cost ten bob, 1930s

He were a dab hand at putting a cows womb back in.

These old cows can spit one out and not even know it

I have had broken ribs, toes trodden on cows and horses

I was put into hospital by a cow, dragged a chain with a hook into my hand

It went rotten, they could smell it

So unpredictable, never trust a bull, Rams are as bad

The vet used to come and put a rubber Mac on.

Thanks again to The Farming Life Centre for hosting us with The Social Group and to Helen who took the challenge on of keeping up with the conversation and writing such fantastic notes. 

A proper English forest

In this second part of his interview for The Homeless Library, artist Andris discusses the pressure to conform, in Latvia where he grew up - and the reasoning behind his escape plan.

Andris:

You see I'm here (The Booth Centre homeless centre) I'm troubled person. 

As soon I was born, able to walk, I remember we were on our own me and my second brother. We were playing with other kids ourselves. It was in my country Latvia, in Talsi, not in city centre in countryside. Parent not around much. In Soviet Union, everyone had to work - if you didn't work three days you went jail. Maybe you managed to hide a day, but yes. Steal a pencil from the Soviet Union, death sentence - property of the government. I like Marx he's good but as soon as Stalin came in he fucked up everything. If you didn't work cos you need money you're gonna steal. With my mum it was like that, milking cows, half hour away. With my dad he was always away. My father was always working on a tractor, ploughing harvesting the cereals...

Nothing really happened. That shade of colour I can tell you I remember it as yellowish-grey very white and grey, dry. Everything was very cubed, shaped. A bit like low resolution. Everyone knew when you left school you get a job. Simple like that, not sophisticated. It had a shade. It's a damnation, a down, a system. None trusted to no one, not even family members. You could talk about things and next day "Cheka" (secret police) is coming and you're going to be sent away somewhere you're fucked. You gotta run away. 

Schools we were restricted. Being told not to use left hand for writing - learned to write with my right but I'm left handed. I was forced to write with right hand. Loads of other things. I was a kid I can't give you a solid opinion. In schools we had corporal punishment stuff like that. Strict. All about politics.

I was in Latvia, we were occupied by Russia. And ruled by Russia, but called Soviet Union. We had no freedoms couldn't give our opinions. If your opinion was for the Soviet then you could tell your opinion.

My case no money no chance to get job. OK, job but paid half a week pay for full month. Even less. Always not enough. That's why I left I decided I don't need to spend my talents for someone who will never appreciate what I do. First time when I came here to UK I was 21 something like that. Financial situation forced me, nothing else. I have never been supported by my own family; convinced I was daft and ugly. 

I had a job awhile and I simply just left. I was working very hard excessively. Like a lumberjack. Imagine eight hours lifting heavy weights. Eight hours. I was about three times stronger than I am now. When you go in a gym you work to make a shape, when you do a job you use all your body to make the job easier, it's not about making a shape. 

I really wanted to go in university. But I realised I was forced in lowest level where you're forced to steal, rob. Loads of effort, purposeless. Got registered in Facebook and saw pictures of England and decided yes I'd like to make a trip here, do fishing...I'm from countryside I love nature, that's why I love to see different types of forest. In Poland I've seen forest. Then I went in Germany it was even more beautiful, different pines with long needles. Big cones, like a grenade. I would like to see different plants, make into art and put on wall. 

To get out I was hitchhiking. Just because I needed a job and got no money. I got over the border, one lorry driver took me over. When I came in Northern Ireland it was frustrating, everything opposite way, traffic system and all. I had no English language. First months was very difficult, I was developing language and simply learning. 

I had a picture of English forest, looks scary, freaks you out a little. I enjoy that sort of thing... I would like to see a proper dense English forest cos they're like jungles. In Poland I was going in woodlands, covered in leaves, crawling plants. Morning Glory everywhere a proper bloom. Beautiful. I like mountains very much. 

What I will do is take one or two weeks and gather natural berries. No supermarket will compete with my ones picked by hand in my own kettle, with sugar the amount I think. This morning I found one cherry tree and I climbed up and started eating. People looking at me, thinking is that poison?

(Signing permission form) I sign this to say I sell my soul! It's true, you got me. A giraffe running away from a lion becomes a lion when it is eaten. It's an exchange of energy. We are all matter, energy. It amazes me. I sleep under one archway and sometimes it's like that. Hunters. I'm thinking in my sleeping bag questions of life, nothing else.

Andris Lauva was interviewed for The Homeless Library by Phil Davenport at The Booth Centre, July 2015. All videos by Andris Lauva, all rights reserved. To see more YouTube work by Andris go to his YouTube channel. (NB These video works were made independently by Andris Lauva, not in arthur+martha workshops.)

The Homeless Library is a project devised by arthur+martha to document the heritage of homelessness using interviews, artworks, poetry. It is supported by the Heritage Lottery Fund.

Needed at home

What follows is the 2nd poem made by one of the members of the Rural Craft Group at the Farming Life Centre, for the project Stitching the Wars, a wonderful example of the humour we see in every session:



Grandad was undertaker, beautiful cape and bonnet made out of a shroud
"Don't put the lid on, don't put the lid on!"
He put me in the coffin once, he was a joker
Loved to see him in his splendid top hat
Mum went with him to lay out the bodies
Put me in the coffin once, he was a joker
They wouldn't let him fight, he was needed at home
"Don't put the lid on, don't put the lid on!"

Tricia
Farming Life Centre (Rural Craft Group)
24 Sept 2014

fabric waiting to be sewn into the quilt

From Sewing to Sowing

The Farming Life Centre run various groups, yesterday we had the joy of working with the Rural Craft group in the morning and The Social Group in the afternoon (more on that later)

Phil worked with members of the group to create poems based on their reminiscence for the project Stitching the Wars:


From Sewing to Sowing


Trousers, the seams full of lice
My father in the 14-18 war, in the trenches, like many
Seams binding sad memories, seams binding good
Trousers, the seams full of lice
Trench dirt, everything impure
Camouflage nets, weaving strips in a set pattern and then
My wedding dress made from parachute silk
From sewing to sowing
A town girl marrying a farmer
Trousers the seams full of lice
Seams binding sad memories, seams binding good
Life carrying on, to be sewing
Sowing the seed, new crops, new life.

Barbara and Chris
Farming Life Centre
Sept 24 2014

Chris with her mother Barbara's wedding dress, made from parachute silk. 

The day started with a moving reading of Barbara's fathers poems written whilst in the trenches during the 1st World War. There was a constant hum of conversation inspired by the themes of Stitching the Wars as the group sewed their individual embroidered artworks into the quilt. With consideration, thought, skill and at times alarming speed the quilt grew and took form.

Mary and her orchard embroidery

The group adding their embroderies

A big thank you goes to all the members of the group who have donated their time, skill and ideas to help with the Stitching the Wars quilt whilst additionally providing Phil, Melanie and myself with tea and biscuits.  We look forward to working with you again next year.

The Land Girl and the Fuehrer

In July, I was lucky enough to meet with a group of men and women at Nicolson Court in Tideswell, in a group run by The Farming Life Centre.   Whilst we embroidered the Stitching the Wars quilt, I gathered more wonderful reminiscence, the following are my notes from Marjorie. 

I’ll be 94 in September. In the Land Army, I based at Lakenheath in Suffolk with 120 other girls, all volunteers. From Sheffield, I was married- my husband a German Prisoner of War. I thought there was no chance of seeing him till the end of the war, so I rented my house up and joined up. It was a spur of the moment thing. I worked in the Steel Office, a girl I was working with said “I’m off to join the Land Army”. I said, ‘ So will I!’ a spur of the moment thing.

            At Lankenheath we were billeted at the YMCA hostel, 120 of us. Taken by lorry every morning for sugar beet pulling. We didn’t have any training, just give us a round knife and set off to pull it up. It just happened. It hurt to start with, then you got used to it.

            Ditching, digging ditches- loading sugar beet for the factory- enjoyed it all. When it was haymaking, we’d climb onto the haystack, one day I got to close to the edge and hit the deck- saw stars for 5 minutes.

Could have a cooked breakfast at 7.00am, eggs no problem, then on the truck ready for 8.00 and taken to which ever farm you were working at. We had lunch at 12.00, bread and dripping, a tin box with a number on, picked it up on the table in the morning.

            The hostel was run by the Women’s Christian Organisation. 1.00pm to 5.00pm working again, or if you were a long way from the hostel you might be able to knock off at 4.00. 6.00pm the evening meal, you could take as long as you’d like- but you didn’t take long, as you wanted to get changed, washed and out to the local village. There were temptations for the married lady- but I never took my wedding ring off.

We were all in the same boat. We didn’t have much money, all got on together. We had a shared bathroom, you’d be having a bath, someone having a cup of tea sat at the table. There was no privacy at all.

I went on a back packing holiday aged 17 in 1937. Just took a haversack, didn’t wear shorts, just a skirt in there. Two of our neighbours belonged to the YMCA, I said ‘I’d love to go’ so saved up my spending money, passport, and plenty of underwear and went by train from Sheffield to London, then away by train to Bavaria. We were in a café having a drink, when Hitler’s voice came over the speaker- everyone stood up, so we did too. The manager came over and thanked us for acknowledging the Fuhrer.  The frivolities continued all night.

Repaired and New Parts Fitted

The Farming Life Centre run various groups, last week I had my first get-together with 'the Rural Social Group' gathering reminiscence and embroidery for the project Stitching the Wars. I a tried to get a flavour of the rich conversation in my notes, part of which I share now.

Mary, Ann, Margaret,

We come from farming families, my father was a blacksmith, had a farm, but lost it, a bit wayward. His brother was the boss, my father did all of the heavy work with the horses, he wore a truss, I never saw that- when you’re little- the youngest of the family, you never ask questions. As a young man he worked for his keep on the farm. Fought in the 1^st World War, they weren’t subscripted, they just went. He was in the Catering Core, didn’t go abroad, those contemporaries who were picked at the same time, none of the came back.

My uncle was a Methodist Lay Preacher, my father would say ‘Our Tom showing folks the way to heaven and he’s ‘feirt’ of dying. A massive man my uncle. My father was a blacksmith in the 2^nd World War, shoeing horses, repairing machinery, say something broke in the house- would fix that, repair milk cans, if cess pan broke mend that. My uncle Tom did the lighter work, the handles and rollers for the mangles…

Decorated walls at the D. Ainsworth's Blacksmithery and Wheelwright.  Blackwell Hall Farm

Blackwell Hall Farm Blacksmithery

Arthur

(During the War) They could be turned off a farm if they didn’t grow so much corn. The Ministry would come round and check. They’d also provide tractors.. You would have to put your name down for tractors. There was one farm in Buxton where they delivered a tractor to the wrong farm, same name, wrong farm! They wouldn’t give it back!

You didn’t keep a lot of livestock, you didn’t need money for electricity as you didn’t have it, you didn’t need money for central heating as you didn’t have it, you didn’t need money for carpets, as you didn’t have it. You lived frugally. You would buy things in 100 weights sacks, flour and sugar and salt in blocks, and salt in a box by the fire to keep it dry. Farmers were often very good gardeners and would have stacks of jars of jams and preserves going up the stairs and a ham up on a hook by the doorway.

Blackwell Hall Farm Blacksmithery

Tom

My Father between 1922 and 1939 the only thing he replaced was one cart and a Planet Junior Push Hoe. Used a float to take to market, for a Sunday day out had a trap, 5 bob a year for the licence. No electric, gas or anything, pressure lamps, outside toilet, no telephone, if you wanted a shower you went out in the rain. The tin bath, if you were lucky you’d be the first one it, pretty cold and filthy if you were the last one. You slept on straw mattresses, if you were cold would chuck an army coat over, use the side shelf from the oven to warm the bed. You knew it was cold when the chamber pot froze over.