Reflective Summary of "Interwoven Peaks"
A final, reflective piece of writing about the project and what I have learned from it.
Sheila Hicks describes weaving “as a metaphor”. My work during the ‘Interwoven Peaks’ project aims to explore this concept in relation to the true landscape of the Peak District and a rejection of anthropocentrism. It can be argued that weaving is more than a technique of interlacing threads; it is a powerful narrative of interconnectedness and life. Whilst exploring the various connotations and versatility of weaving, my work has successfully integrated deeper contextual meaning, particularly through examining human intervention in natural landscapes and the patterns that emerge from such mediation, allowing the viewer to question what nature truly is. In ‘Interwoven Peaks’, I intend to create a sense of place, bringing my home of the Peak District into the woven tapestry, back out and in again, weaving the piece into the very landscape in which it was formed from.
During the ‘Interwoven Peaks’ project, I have developed and refined the technique of handweaving, inspired by fibre artist Sheila Hicks. She mentions that ‘textile is a universal language’ and I have decided to use handweaving as a powerful language to ‘spin a yarn’ on the Peak District. Handweaving directly links to my ideas surrounding the dismissal of the idea of the Anthropocene and interconnectedness. Tim Ingold discusses in the book ‘Lines’, that weaving and materiality can act as models for understanding human existence and seeing life as entanglement with material and the landscape. To develop these skills in handweaving, I have undertaken extensive research into not only the practical methods but also the history behind weaving and its importance in society. I have participated in and hosted workshops, transferring these valuable and sacred techniques to others and as a way to interconnect with them, by weaving in between and around each other to interwork the threads, forming a large-scale piece.
Reading ‘Vibrant Matter’ by Jane Bennett has allowed me to rethink my choice of materials during this project. A key idea that I have taken from the book is the rejection of anthropocentrism. This acts as a resistance to the idea of human domination of the environment by connecting to the landscape and restoring it. As a way of rejecting human supremacy and becoming more sustainable, I have adapted my materials to merely second-hand fibre from charity shops and found natural objects, which have all originated from around the Peak District. I found that the idea of using recycled fibre added more context and ideas to my work, each sourced yarn telling the stories of its past, whilst becoming part of the land in which it was inspired, in a large-scale woven tapestry.
Fortunately, I was able to source recycled fibres with diverse textures, such as bobbles, fuzz and lace. These unique yarns immensely refined the piece, adding texture which mimicked grass and various flora in the Peak District. I was also privileged to find various threads that suited my colour palette for my weavings. The colours were inspired by photographs taken from the environment and satellite images. The satellite imagery of the Peak District is prominent in my work, more specifically, the large-scale tapestry, as it records where the land changes shape and colour, most likely from human interference.
I have also explored the concept of ‘true nature’, questioning what is artificial versus natural in the Peak District. I began to explore this concept through my ink drawings of heather cutting patterns, which fascinated me, and this theme became prevalent by implementing and contrasting natural and synthetic fibres throughout my weavings.
Experimentation has been significant in the ‘Interwoven Peaks’ project. This investigation has revolved around combining and contrasting natural and synthetic materials. At the start of this project, I limited my material choices to natural elements such as grasses, twigs, and seed pods. My initial plan was to transform these foraged materials into handmade fibres for weaving. However, this approach proved too time‑consuming, especially given my goal of producing a large‑scale piece. Creating my own fibres would have significantly reduced the final size of the work, and a smaller weaving would not have achieved the immersive landscape I intended. Instead of hand-processing my yarn, I have been sourcing recycled, ex-industrial yarn. This way, I can still be sustainable with my creative practice and achieve the bright, unconventional colours we may find in nature. ‘Interwoven Peaks’ has seen a lot of experimentation with combining natural and synthetic materials with weaving techniques, which is seen in my experimental weavings.
I created two smaller, experimental weavings, one using natural materials in a structured linear weave and another using synthetic fibres with a random weave technique to create shapes and textures resembling a forest floor in autumn. Even though both pieces were woven, I believe they spoke completely different languages. The natural, structured weaving felt too intentional and confined, especially after reading ‘Lines’ by Tim Ingold. My most successful weavings have wandered across the warp threads in no particular form, breaking down the rectilinear conventions of tapestry weaving. Therefore, with my second weaving, I allowed my thread to wander more, introducing chaos and organicity to mimic true nature and natural processes, rather than representing human-owned and controlled borders, fences and land. I believe that these introduced methodologies of ‘wandering weaving’ have resulted in the success of this project. This style of weaving reflects the unpredictability of natural environments, creating twists and tangles of roots and branches, a patchy and imbalanced spread of moss and grass, and the uneven erosion and shaping of the landscape. Weaving organically was a significant risk within this project, as the lack of structure could have made the piece visually confusing or diminished the value of craftsmanship. However, I still considered composition, inspired by the satellite photographs, which allowed the piece to become a success. This is because this technique, when used carefully, provides depth and complexity by becoming immersive and tactile; the layers of texture and colour make the piece feel alive, though it is created using primarily synthetic materials.
A key interest that has inspired ‘Interwoven Peaks’ is questioning what ‘true nature’ is and the rejection of the Anthropocene and land ownership. Throughout this project, my work has become more political and sustainable to allow me to connect with not only my work, but the landscape even further. Land ownership has altered the true natural form of the Peak District, from the construction of dams and reservoirs such as Ladybower, farms and the roads and campsites welcoming tourists to the Peaks, meaning that we no longer know the true natural state of the landscape. This infrastructure also confines us to paths and roads, which is what Benny Rothman of the Mass Trespass group protested in 1932. His protest and many others in recent years have given us the right to roam the Peak District. This is important in my work, as wandering and wayfaring allow me to discover unique parts of the landscape, which inspires my work greatly. Researching the restoration of the Peak District has also led me to consider working more sustainably. Even though my material choice may not directly impact this landscape, I believe that working sustainably helps the planet as a whole, as I am not causing any manufacturing of yarn and fibre. I aim to inspire other artists to use recycled yarn, through this piece, by displaying a wide range of textures and colours available from charity shops. This can also positively impact the Peak District if more artists use yarn sustainably, as climate change affects plant health and growth, thereby supporting more biodiversity and the restoration of native species.
Visiting the ‘Guardians of Living Matter’ exhibition has also allowed me to think about the future of our planet and environment, with the combination of technology and nature. The exhibition portrayed nature as a living, active and interconnected matter, rather than a backdrop for humans, almost anti-anthropocentric. This visit allowed me to form a slower, more sensory relationship with nature, encouraging close observation of patterns and colours, walking and collecting materials for my weavings and encouraged me to understand the landscape as tactile, yet unstable and a collaboration between humankind and nature.
In order to develop my skills in curating, I have organised and participated in various exhibitions, such as ‘Imprints’ at the Salutation Pub and ‘At Victoria Baths’. These venues were both completely different to one another, and both posed challenges to curate a professional exhibition. In ‘Imprints’, we weren’t allowed to use screws or nails to hang our frames, so we had to rely on command strips and hooks. Because the backs of my frames were too deep, the strips wouldn’t hold, which meant I had to prop the pictures up on a table instead. This adaptation ended up being surprisingly effective, as the table let me arrange some foraged objects in front of the frames, creating a small narrative about the locations where the photos were taken. The curation of the ‘At Victoria Baths’ exhibition was more successful and carefully considered. This was because the suspension of the woven tapestry required additional planning, as the work needed to be displayed above a swimming pool. The piece was hung over the railing so it appeared to cascade into the water like a waterfall. The railings also supported the photo frames, allowing them to be presented as though they were hanging naturally. I believe that exhibiting and curating in spaces where each venue demanded its own adaptations gave me valuable skills that directly informed my approach to curating ‘Interwoven Peaks’ for the degree show.
As well as exhibiting my work, I have also run various workshops in order to refine my skills in organisation, time management, and facilitating. My crochet and painting workshops required a considerable amount of planning, from creating guides and worksheets to timing each task or section of the workshop to ensure it runs smoothly and finishes on time. The workshops have also developed my skills in adaptation, which has been valuable for curating my degree show work. I often had to change the schedule of tasks or completely improvise so that participants understood tasks or skills. An example of this is in the crochet workshop. I had planned the session under the assumption that participants knew how to crochet and created a pattern for them to work on. However, most of them didn’t, so I had to improvise and teach the group how to crochet from the very basics. This worked out better, however, as not only did the partakers come away from the session with confidence and a new skill, but I learned how to communicate and teach skills effectively. Running community workshops has been an important aspect of developing my practice, as it has completely changed how I think about and use materials. Explaining techniques such as painting and crochet has compelled me to analyse how I work with them and has allowed me to experiment and refine, for example, in my watercolour studies of the Peak District. These workshops have also strengthened conceptual themes within my work as participants have begun to experience my ideas of handcrafted-ness and environmentalism through intensely observing and creating the environment, rather than just viewing them.
For the degree show installation, I required the space to immerse the viewer into the Peak District, to form an interconnection between human and nature, rather than a dominance. I decided to suspend my tapestry diagonally across the space, so viewers could walk around the entire piece, and view each variation of colour and texture, which represented a different part of the Peak District. I also would like my work to be touched, to provide a sensory experience and connection. By moving the piece away from the walls and closer to the viewer, almost forming an invitation, I believe the work successfully does this. I placed the images in an alcove across the space from the tapestry, instead of directly next to it. As the piece is placed diagonally across the space, it directs the viewer to turn and look at the photographs, almost as if nature has begun to control humans. The photographs provide a beautiful narrative of the piece, which is why it was important for me to display them in the degree show, as they show the work in context, in the Peak District, where they feel connected to and inspired by. In summary, I believe that my curation of ‘Interwoven Peaks’ in the degree show is my most successful iteration thus far. This is because I have really begun to think about human interaction with the space, rejecting anthropocentrism by forcing viewers on a certain path, rather than forcing nature into a constraint and providing a powerful narrative of impact on the landscape.