Textiles of Comfort

Winter approaches and with the shorter days and darker evenings, it's time to crack on with my crochet.

I come from a family of makers, stitchers, knitters & crocheters. My early education didn't include museum & gallery visits, in fact I was 23 before I went into an art gallery.

But I did learn to sew, crochet, knit & handle most woodworking tools by the time I was 13! 

Creativity comes in many forms & it's fantastic to see Fibre Art gathering popularity, not least because it's raising the profile of women artists.

When I visited the exhibition Soft Power - Lives told through textile art, at the RWA in Bristol this summer, I felt a surge of nostalgia and excitement at the interweaving of art & the crafts I was familiar with.

The RWA always puts on a great show & this one was as excellent as ever. It got me thinking about the familiarity of textiles/cloth/fabric and it's role in my life.

Textiles surround us. Practical, necessary, frequently beautiful & often customised by the person or culture. However, the fact they are so common place means we can take them for granted, when they are so much more than practical necessities.  

For me the pattern, colour and feel of a textile can conjure long forgotten memories. Remember the smell & touch of a favourite childhood soft toys or blanky? Or the scratchy, colour clashing tank tops crocheted by your Gran?

I love the fact that some fabrics help me time-travel to times past, offering fond memories & comfort at a stroke or a sniff!

On seeing the Pippa Hetherington's Cuttings 1820-2020 collaborative exhibit, I was reminded of the inimitable strength & character of women who endure & strive for family and community, often in tough times.

It also gave me a nostalgic jolt to one particular piece of clothing that instantly brought me back to a cheerful childhood - my Granny’s psychedelic pinny!

My Granny was a big lady in every sense. One of nine, she left home & went into service at 13. Married by 18 & widowed young with five kids, several pigs, a bunch of scratchy chickens, & not a bean to her name.

Always bedecked in her large, all encompassing pinny she was known for her formidable nature & bellowing voice, heard throughout the village as she called her kids in for tea -

Alan! Brenda! David! Brian! Morgan! - all rolled into one terrifying holler!

Like many women of her time she raised a large family on very little, & as the family matriarch ruled with an ample mix of love and manipulation - often crying into her pinny when things weren’t going her way. 

Brightly coloured & wildly patterned, her cotton shield didn't just protect her clothes. it was her uniform & identity.

Bold 1970’s hues of orange, pinks & peacock blues, much like her wallpaper, they were never understated.

Maybe this is where my love of bright colours comes from! And they were all bought from Griffiths the Ironmonger’s van - a cornucopia of household contraptions, & a delight to us kids!

Like all great fashionistas, Granny personalised her pinnys. There was frequently a brutal tear at the neck to give her space to ‘breath’, and safety pins attached all over the bib, without apparent purpose. Contrasting binding round the edges, unraveled here & there with kinked nylon threads left dangling.

The back ties were well worn & presented a tangle to navigate over the shoulders & around the waist. 

And us Grand-kids favourite bit - the solo front pocket was never without losin (welsh for sweets), covered in fluff from a series of old scorched rags!  

But much more than practical domestic wear, Granny’s pinny was imbued with a sense of security and love as we'd cwtch (cuddle) on her lap for a snooze, or to be comforted after a run-in with the cousins.

In my early memories she’d proudly stand on the back step, near the blackcurrant bush, huge mixing bowl in hand, beating a tasty cake mix, no measuring required! Baking didn’t always go to plan though. The chickens got six Xmas cakes one year!

These memories are now shared with those that remember, more often as we gather to say our farewells to beloved Aunts and Uncles.

As my family shifts & change, I hold onto my treasured pinnys with nostalgia and pride & wear my cloth-eared time machines daily, sharing the stories with my kids & often incurring similar baking fails!

Maybe one day they’ll tell their kids of their colorful pinny loving Granny?

Check out this film How Textiles Took Over the Art World

and my Exhibition Notes on Unravel - the Power and Politics of Textiles in Art