And even though the big art knobs are talking about embroidery with the same reverence as Rembrandt, it has reminded me that I am sad.
I could barely contain myself, in 2018, when the Tapestry announced its plans to cross the Channel, and immediately started working on ‘Sheltered’, a piece inspired by it, made up of 34 buildings cut from newspapers and hand stitched to cloth.
Sheltered, Section 1. Copyright: Alison Aye.
2018 was an excellent year for me, time-wise. I was living my dream. The kids were older, I was working part-time instead of full, it was bloody great. But. The dream came to an enforced halt in 2020, more of that in a bit, and I have been having ‘a melancholic episode’ ever since. That’s six years of not being able to crack back on with my buildings. A terminal case of feeling-really-sorry-for-myself. And because of Emmanuel Macron, et ses amis, I’m currently experiencing a flare-up. I love my buildings. I want to finish them. And I am sad about it.
Sheltered, Section 2. Copyright: Alison Aye.
It’s stitched, obvs, but when I say ‘Sheltered’ was inspired by the Bayeux Tapestry, I mean in layout. It’s very long and thin and impossible to photograph.
Sheltered, Section 3. Copyright: Alison Aye.
So far, I have completed six sections. All were made between 2018 and 2020. It takes at least four days of chaos to prepare a section, covering every available surface of our living room and kitchen, including the floor, with newspaper images. And my bedroom. Cutting out and arranging, then rearranging, then more cutting out, then more rearranging, then all of this again, times a thousand. Until finally, after banning the other residents from watching television, cooking and eating, I’m finally left with a pleasing collage arrangement that’s ready to sew. The sewing can be done in dribs and drabs. An hour here, an hour there. It fits around life and stuff. It’s the assembly time, and how said time is needed in one big lump, that’s giving me first-world grief.
Sheltered, Section 4. Copyright: Alison Aye.
My housemates are my two adult children. They couldn’t care less about me using our living room as a studio. I say this, because yesterday I was talking to a friend, again, about my ‘blue period’. It’s all about me. She had assumed that lack of space was my issue, suggesting I ask another friend if I could borrow his studio for a bit. But the issue is lack of time, and how that time must come in one long flow. I haven’t had a long flow, I’m talking four consecutive days, since early 2020. Two art days in a row is a miracle, four an impossibility.
Sheltered, Section 5. Copyright: Alison Aye.
Each half-a-napkin section is 23 x 49cm, making it about 3 metres long in total. It has been publicly displayed in London twice, hence the pizza box ‘wall captions’, first at Westminster Arts Library in 2019 with the Paste Table Gallery, and second at the Barbican Library last year.
When I find the relevant notebooks, currently hidden in a safe place, the location of which I have yet to reveal to myself, I will write better credits.
Sheltered, Section 6. Copyright: Alison Aye.
Some positives. Although pre-stitching-assembly of ‘Sheltered’ has been impossible, I have continued to collect newspaper articles featuring buildings and have six years worth. They are waiting.
Some more positives. The sticking-plaster, I repeatedly put upon my wound, is ‘The Audience’. A collection of faces which do not take four days to assemble. I mostly plonk them anywhere (not quite) allowing me to continue with art making. Dribs and drabs. An hour here, an hour there.
The Audience 2026, so far. In which I stitch a newspaper face each day.
Regarding my work coming to a halt in 2020. You can read why here, if you want.
