It's Not A Fallow Period, It's Lack Of Time

I make art in small pockets of time on evenings and weekends. I like my ‘day jobs’, and am lucky to have them, but they are ‘low pay’ and I wouldn’t do them if I didn’t have to. I would be making art instead. And then some.

A few days ago a woman came into the gallery where I work. I liked her immediately. I wrongly assumed she was biding her time before hopefully showing her phone-art with the aim of securing an exhibition. This happens more frequently than I would like. I don’t have, or want, the power to dish-out exhibitions. I was wrong. She had studied Fine Art but now worked for a printing company, which she enjoyed. She said she was too poor to be an artist. When she left Art School she needed to get a job to pay the rent.

I get it.

For the past decade, or so, I have attempted to document the year by stitching newspaper faces to cloth. That’s the 2024 version, above. You can see the names of the ‘sitters’ here.

May begins today, and I haven’t started stitching this year yet. History tells me that if I don’t start in January, then I don’t start at all. There are worse things, I know, but I’m feeling incredibly sad about it. Attaching the ‘faces’, gradually throughout the year, provides my brain with enough delusion to convince it I’m making a lot of art. When in reality I’ve only completed one piece of work in the last three years, because like most working people I’m selling my time to pay the bills and have very little left for art making. This is NOT the same as having a ‘fallow period’. I am not having one of those.

I first started stitching paper faces on New Year’s Day 2015 (or 2014?) when a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses knocked on the door and gave me the Watchtower. From then on, every face that came through the letterbox was hand stitched to a large woollen blanket. At about 1,600 faces there was no space left, so I stopped. It took a couple of years, I think. I don’t have a studio, and had no place to store it, which resulted in its butchering. I cut it into sixteen pieces, you can see the top-left corner below.

Section 1 of Mostly Uninvited, c2015

I enjoyed the process and wanted to continue, but needed something more manageable, something smaller. So in 2019 (sitters list here), I started restricting myself to 365 faces, thereby documenting the year. I’d call it ‘The Audience’ and make one annually. So much for that.

The Audience 2019

Because of my exile, the 2020 faces weren’t stitched until 2021 (sitters list here). By now, I had an idea of how much space 365 heads needed and budgeted accordingly. Twelve months, spread over four napkins, each the perfect holding size. On account of there being a lack of newspapers for a huge chunk of the year, I replaced some faces with crosses from my parents’ prescription bags and little covid-thingies, both of which were in abundance. It was shortlisted for the Brixton Art Prize.

The Audience 2020

‘The Audience 2021’ didn’t happen. It’s a pile of dusty newspapers in the corner of my lounge. So is ‘The Audience 2023’ and ‘The Audience 2025’. However, ‘The Audience 2022’ was miraculously completed. Although, I’ve yet to document it so it’s not really finished.

The Audience 2022

An even bigger miracle is that I made two versions of ‘‘The Audience 2024’. One to sell, eventually. I hope. It just needs signing, dating and backing. I submitted it, unsuccessfully, for the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition.

I’m hoping to show them all at the Barbican Library in August. Maybe I’ll see some of you there?

PS. There’s 15 tickets (from a possible 30) left for my art-talk-meal-thingy, and 48 prints (from a possible 50) left from my limited-edition-delaunay-do-da.

'Lying Naked' Rides Again

For the second time in seven years, ‘Lying Naked’ is out in the wild.

In 2018 it was sentenced to under-bed prison, after being hung in the National Gallery (for one night) when it reached the shortlist of the Evening Standard Art Prize. It didn’t win. Costly framing was out of the question, so I nailed it to a lump of wood. Last April it was released, as part of  ‘(a contemporary) phantasmagoria’, a group show which coincidentally also had work by Matthew Collings who was one of the judges on the art prize. And now that group show rides again. In Liverpool.

‘(a contemporary) phantasmagoria 2’, continues until 29th April, 2025. Cornerstone Gallery, Liverpool Hope University, L6. 9 - 5 weekdays, 9 - 4 weekends. Hours may change at Easter. Curated by John Bunker and Ken Turner.

Lying Naked, 2018

Hand-stitched newspaper to cloth

38 x 51cm.

Left to right:

1 The Lion Man of Ulm, thought to be about 40,000 years old. Carved from mammoth ivory and discovered in Germany in 1939. Cut from the London Evening Standard, 6.9.18. Photo: Oleg Kuchar/ Museum Ulm. Taken from a book review, by Douglas Murray, of ‘Living With The Gods: On Beliefs And Peoples’ by Neil McGregor (Penguin, 2018). Also a Radio 4 series.

‘Pink Pussy Hat’ from the anti-Trump marches. Cut from the London Evening Standard, 4.9.18. The photographer appears to be uncredited, however, there is a photo of Ian Hislop on the same page credited as J Fernandes/ D Hubbard. Maybe this credit also applies to the hat photo? It was cut from a review, by Melanie McDonagh, of the British Museum exhibition, ‘I Object: Ian Hislop’s Search For Dissent’. I saw this exhibition. The hat was displayed in a glass cabinet as if valued, but the knitter was not named. I would’ve almost accepted ‘we tried to find the maker of this piece’, but nothing.

Feet of Boris Johnson, London 2012. From that photo when he was on the zipwire with a Union Jack in each hand. Barcroft Media*.

2. Torso of Donald Trump with the arm of his granddaughter, Arabella. Cut from the London Evening Standard, 30.7.18. Photographer uncredited.

‘Busting out the moves’ legs of Theresa May, Metro 31.8.18. PA*.

3. Jeanne Hébuterne as Nu couché (sur le côté gauche) by Amedeo Modigliani, 1917. Sold at Sotheby’s in New York for £116m. Cut from the Guardian, 12.5.18. Article by Rupert Neate. Photo: AFP/Getty*. Additional article by Miranda Bryant, London Evening Standard, 15.5.18.

Prosthetic leg with leather boot of Frida Kahlo. London Evening Standard, 17.5.18. Advertisement for ‘Making Herself Up’ exhibition at the V&A. Photo by Javier Hinojosa.

4 Torso of AJ Cook as JJ Jareau (Special Agent Jennifer Jareau) in ‘Criminal Minds’. Cut from the TV schedule page of the London Evening Standard, 29.3.18. Photographer uncredited.

Legs of Kendall Jenner ‘in feathers’ by designer Rick Owens. Photographer uncredited.

5 Torso of Kim Jong-un on a visit to a teacher training college in Pyongyang. London Evening Standard, 17.1.18. Photographer uncredited.

Skirt and left leg of Serena Williams, U.S. Open, 2018. ‘The 36-year-old wore a dress, designed by Louis Vuitton Men’s Artistic Director Virgil Abloh, as she beat Polish player, Magda Linette, in straight sets’. London Evening Standard, 28.8.18. Photographer uncredited.

Right leg of Natalie Portman, who ‘transformed herself into a punk for her film Vox Lux, in which she plays a musician called Celeste’. London Evening Standard, 1.3.18. Photographer uncredited.

*The photo credits appear as they did in the publication from which the images were cut. For the record, I don't accept the name of a company as the credit for a photograph. There was an actual person behind the camera. If you are that person, or know them, please let me know. Also, the information in the articles may be fabricated. I use the Evening Standard and Metro newspapers because they are free. I couldn’t afford to make my work if I bought a more ‘reputable’ publication every day.

Evening Standard Art Prize, National Gallery, 2018

She Kept Her Money In Her Bra

James Timpson will be an excellent Minister for Prisons, due in part (very large part) to his incredible mother, Alex.

After reading Alex Timpson’s obituary in 2016, I felt compelled to stitch something because she was bloody amazing. Said stitching (‘Alex Timpson’ and ‘She kept her money in her bra’) remained in a box for six years, until it became part of ‘Exile Textile 3’

This is an extract from my social media post at the time of sewing - ‘Mother of five and foster parent to more than ninety children. Along with her husband, John, she hired young offenders (IN A KEY CUTTING BUSINESS!) and employed people based on their personality. Staff got a day off on their birthday and a free seaside family holiday. Hardly surprising that more than a thousand people came to her funeral’.

In the obituary, one of her family members (94% certain it was James of the new Cabinet) tells a story about how she hated handbags (check) and kept her money in her bra (double check), ‘cash in the left cup, credit cards in the right’.

When I was trying to find the original obituary to confirm the bra story (no luck) I stumbled upon an excellent podcast in which James recalls waiting in the car whilst Alex took babies into prisons to visit their mothers. It’s a great listen. The bit where he talks about including the shop-floor workers in management decisions particularly resonates with me. This absolutely did not happen when I was employed by a large London gallery, and it was totally crap as a consequence. The sign of a good boss is one who listens, actually listens, to the people on the shop floor.

Full Disclosure with James O’Brien, S2 E181.

The fabric is stitched from two of Mr. S’s shirts, which you will recognise from other places.

You can buy a print here.

Shifting To The Moon

68. Shifting To The Moon, 2022

Hand-stitched paper to tea towel

60 x 44cm unframed, 62 x 47cm framed (by The Framing Room, with maple and UV glass)

‘Shifting’ is a Durham colloquialism, meaning ‘to move house’. I grew up in a car-free environment, and people often carried furniture by hand, from one house to another. Everybody helped. I have a picture, somewhere, of my dad transporting Uncle David’s couch by wheelbarrow, or ‘barra’ as he calls it.

Moon: From the film La Voyage Dans La Lune, 1902, by George Méliès. The first ever science fiction film. From the book by Jules Verne. Michaut/ Lucien Tainguy. Cut from 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die, Steven Jay Schneider, Cassell 2003.

Monkey: Sam, Dec 1959. Nasa Little Joe Test Programme. Hulton Getty Picture Collection. Nick Yapp.

Robot: Alpha, July 1932. Invented by Harry May for the Mullard Valve Company. Hulton Getty Picture Collection. Nick Yapp. Legend has it, that the robot shot the inventor.

Basket: From the film, Around The World In Eighty Days, United Artists, 1956. David Niven and Cantinflas were in the basket. Michael Anderson/Kevin McClory/Mike Todd. Cinematography by Lionel Lindon. George Rinhart/Getty. Cut from 50 Years Of The Movies by Jeremy Pascall, WH Smith 1981.

Andrew and Charles Windsor, now King: ‘Gaining their parachutist’s wings during the Easter holiday from Gordonstoun’ c1978. Coloursport. Cut from Britain In The Seventies by Ronald Allison. Book Club Associates, 1980.

Jarrow Crusade: In October 1936, 200 men marched 300 miles from Jarrow to Westminster to protest against unemployment and poverty. They brought with them a petition requesting the re-establishment of industry. It was received by the House of Commons, but not debated.

Achtung! Sie Verlassen Jetzt West-Berlin: The image, from which this sign is taken, is the copyright of the family of Richard Bissell, who was a CIA officer. He was an administrator of the European Recovery Plan in Germany, after the Second World War. Cut from The American Century by Harold Evans, Jonathan Cape, 1998.

Four More Years: From an image (Charles Nye, 1972) of Richard Nixon electioneering in Ohio, just before the full scope of his Watergate involvement was revealed.

Wet Paint: David McEnery, 1975. Mirror Group.

Maggitun Devastation For Kent: Maggitun didn’t really catch on as an alias for the Channel Tunnel. From an image of anti-tunnel protesters in Folkstone. QA Photographs, the Channel Tunnel Group Ltd. Cut from Breakthrough by Derek Wilson, Century, 1991.

Tow Away Zone: From the film, Manhattan by Woody Allen. United Artists, 1979. 50 Years of the Movies by Jeremy Pascall, WH Smith 1981.

Britain Awake: Fascist banner.

Caution No Swimming: Banksy, 2005. Bathing Lake, Hyde Park, London. Lasted three and a half weeks. Cut from Banksy Wall and Peace, Century 2006.

The Batchelors: 1922, Getty.

Face of the Enemy in Kabul: State Britain by Mark Wallinger, 2007. Brian Haw’s banners recreated.

Reserved For Pastor: William Lovelace, 1961. From a photograph of two men sleeping in the pastor’s car park during a siege of the First Baptist Church in Montgomery Alabama, by a white mob of three thousand during the night of 20th/21st May, 1961.

The End of the World is Near: David McEnery, 1975. Mirror Group.

Peace: From a photo taken en route to a Women’s Peace Congress in the Hague, April 13th 1915. Jane Addams, Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence, Annie E Malloy. Possibly Mary Heaton Vorse and Lillian Kohlhamer. Bain News Service. George Grantham Bain Collection, Library of Congress. The American Century by Harold Evans, Jonathan Cape 1998.

Gone to Morroco with Hilton: From a picture of Sarah Lucas and Tracey Emin by Carl Freedman, 1993. It’s the one where they are standing in the doorway of ‘The Shop’ on Bethnal Green Road, London. The sign is painted above the door. Don’t know who Hilton is, and neither does Google. If I ever meet Tracey or Sarah, it’s the first thing I’ll ask them. Cut from Artrage by Elizabeth Fullerton, Thames and Hudson 2016.

Bands Won’t Play No More: Quote from Ghost Town by The Specials/ Jerry Dammers. 2 Tone Records. BBC 1981. Stitched in honour of Terry Hall (1959 - 1922) who died during the making of this piece. Also, I now recognise areas of London in the video, which I didn’t know in 1981. Why must the youth fight against themselves? Particularly poignant at the moment.

Smash Thatcher: Cartoon drawn by Christopher Madden, who read my Observer piece, then saw his work stitched to my work at the RA. He said, 'Well, this is an interesting way to get one's work into the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition. Draw a cartoon of Margaret Thatcher in 1979 in her Iron Lady/ Mad Axewoman persona. Have the cartoon picked up by the Socialist Workers Party for placards and posters. Have the placard redrawn by other people for their own personal placards. Have one of those copied placards printed in a newspaper somewhere. Have that print used in a montage in an artwork in the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition forty-five years later. Thanks to Alison Aye for her excellent choice of montage material. My own attempts to get into the Summer Exhibition have always been a failure. Shortlisted a couple of times but always fallen at the final hurdle'.

Consett Steel Workers’ banner. I grew up in Spennymoor which is 14 miles from Consett, and very similar. Nobody in my hometown liked Thatcher. I’d never knowingly met a tory until I moved South. Northern Echo. Cut from Memories of County Durham in the 1980s, in association with Love Darlo.

Peace on Earth, Goodwill to All: State Britain by Mark Wallinger, 2007. Brian Haw’s banners recreated.

First National Coal: Betteshanger Colliery, Deal, Kent. NCB, 1st January 1947. 100 Years in Pictures by DC Somervell, Odhams Press.

The Magi of Chaldea (Wise Men): Priest-Astronomers who gave names to the stars. Odhams Wonder-World of Knowledge by JA Lauwerys, RL James and Brian Vasey-Fitzgerald. There’s a long list of possible illustrators: Carlo Alexander, AE Barbosa, Laurence Bradbury, Royman Browne, AH Burvill, Gaynor Chapman, David Cobb, Neville Colvin, H Connolly, Gordon Davies, Rowland Davies, Bruce Drysdale, Barry Evans, EI Ford, Grace Golden, LG Goodwin, Harry Green, LS Haywood, W Hobson, Peter Horne, William Kempster, P Kesteven, R King, Richard Leacroft, Joan Martin May, N Meredith or C Newsome-Taylor.

Please note that I do not reproduce physical images to stitch, but use already printed materials. The paper comes from discarded books, newspapers, magazines, calendars and the like. Most of the books I cut are beyond repair, the rest are beyond my respect.

Copyright: Alison Aye, 2024.

Damien Shamien

It’s about my mam’s massively subservient nature, and how she expected the same of me. Her dying words were that I must iron my dad’s clothes nicely. “Make sure yer dad has a nice crease in his pants.” His home is a four-hour journey from mine.

Made at my parents’ house during Lockdown, where I took care of my mother in the final eighteen months of her life. I was unable to return to my husband and children for fear of bringing germs to my mam and dad, who had a stroke the week after my arrival.

I accidentally became their carer. It’s the closest to hell my privileged life has ever taken me. I lost my employment, and my mind, into the bargain.

Rarely leaving the house, I had no art materials. The background is one of my mother’s napkins, and the lettering is cut from my father’s handkerchiefs.

I’m making fun of Damien Hirst’s success, and my lack of it. Inspired by his shark sculpture, ‘The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living’. Mam was in her final weeks of life, lying motionless on a hospital bed at home, where I was nursing her. Her death was imminent and inevitable, but seemed impossible.

I carry the guilt of being relieved when she died.

39. Damien Shamien, 2021

Hand-stitched textile

35 x 35cm unframed

Copyright: Alison Aye, 2024.

Is This A Landscape?

Made at my parents’ house during Lockdown, where I found myself living, in what turned out to be the final year of my mother’s life. She was diagnosed with inoperable cancer, just before the pandemic, so I went up North to see her.

A week after my arrival, Dad had a stroke. I was unable to return home to my husband and children, for fear of bringing germs to my parents. I accidentally became their carer and lived with them for eighteen months, losing my employment and my mind in the process.

Rarely leaving the house, I had no art materials. I used whatever I could find. The background is made from my Dad’s old shirt, which Mam will have washed and ironed hundreds of times, and the trees were cut from prescription bags, of which there were many.

33. Is This A Landscape? 2021*

Hand stitched paper to polycotton shirt

11.5 x 44.5cm unframed, 19 x 52cm framed (by The Framing Room)

Copyright: Alison Aye, 2024.

* It was made in 2021, but I stitched 2020 by mistake. One of many stitch-related mistakes I was making at the time. My head was all over the place. I decided to leave it.

Unseated

Made as a response to Claire Mort’s Brave Pants project.

I like cutting Picasso, and I thought it would be fun to pull Fernande Olivier out of that chair and give her some knickers. She looked so miserable.

An artist in her own right, Olivier was the daughter of a married man and ‘his mistress’. Raised by an abusive aunt, who arranged her marriage, she fled to Paris at nineteen, changing her name so her husband couldn’t find her.

Picasso (“Each time I leave a woman, I should burn her”) used to lock her in the studio.

54. Unseated, 2022.

Hand-stitched paper/canvas collage.

46 x 37.5cms, framed*

Body cut from an image of Femme Assise (Fernande Olivier) by Pablo Picasso, 1908. Oil on canvas. 150 x 100cms. The State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg (below).

Big pants cut from an image of Kate Moss wearing a leotard by Julien Fournié. Mert and Marcus for Paris Vogue, 2011.

Feet of Kate Moss. Shoe designer unknown (any help much appreciated). Mert and Marcus for W magazine, 2005.

Copyright: Alison Aye, 2024.

*Framed by Ming, 29 Chatterton Road, Bromley. Oak and 99% UV glass.

Please note that I do not reproduce physical images to stitch, but use already printed materials. The paper comes from discarded books, newspapers, magazines, calendars and the like. Most of the books I cut are beyond repair, the rest are beyond my respect.

I Have No Thoughts On This Matter

I Have No Thoughts On This Matter, 2020.

Hand-stitched textile.

35cms x 35cms, unframed.

Private Collection.

Copyright: Alison Aye, 2024.

It’s about ‘good girls’ putting up and shutting up.

‘I have no thoughts on this matter’ was my mantra during 2020. At the age of 53, I had moved back to my childhood home, sharing a bed with my mother, in what turned out to be the final year of her life. I left my husband and kids and went 300 miles north. A place where I am undervalued and underestimated. Everybody else's time is more valuable than my own. It was expected of me, and I did it, losing both my jobs, pretending it didn’t matter.

For the 18 months I was there, hand stitching kept me on the right side of sane.

As always, the materials are recycled.

A friend was binning the tea towel, describing it as embarrassing, the way the middle-classes do.

The orange and blue are my husband’s old clothes.

The blue, a shirt I remember him wearing at my cousin’s wedding. I was a Bo-Peep inspired bridesmaid. The evening cèilidh was a riot. We laughed and danced our socks off, except Mr S, who sat on the side-lines, unable to make a fool of himself.

The orange, boxer shorts I bought on Christmas Eve 1991, from the Next near Charing Cross Station, London.

The red fabric, used for my signature, is an old National Portrait Gallery uniform. I worked there for 12 years. Undervalued and underestimated. The date next to it was cut from Amnesty International Magazine, Issue 206.

I Have No Thoughts On This Matter is now available as a limited edition print. The original was bought by a French woman, which I took as the greatest of compliments.

Photo by Ian Bruton.

Copyright: Alison Aye, 2024.

Majorca '79

Majorca ‘79 was inspired by Man Ray’s portrait of Max Ernst. A photograph (photographer unknown), of me, hand-stitched to a tea towel, is about my reluctance to reconstruct my life after twenty-five years of marriage, but also about my first time abroad at the age of twelve. My nana took me to Majorca, where the photograph was taken. She was drunk every night and a horrible racist.

Majorca ‘79, 2023

Photograph hand-stitched to tea towel

62 x 47 cm, unframed

Copyright: Alison Aye, 2024