Oh yes. Stitches can be unpicked. I have the thought in my head quite a lot of the time, “oh yes” I say to my tutor, “unpick-ability is very important to me”. We nod sagely. But have I ever unpicked any of it. No. Not unless I’ve made a mistake. Never as a conscious artistic decision. I’ve been talking the talk, but not walking the walk.
The last picture posted on this blog is of stitches that no longer exist, other than as a pile of snipped threads on the work table that I haven’t yet bothered to throw away.
The fabric, the old, buttery yellow linen, looked really interesting with its footprint shaped area of holes (more dots, David Minton, just in case you read this), with little bits of fluff. The pile of ex-stitches on the table is interesting me too. The photograph I’m finding is haunting me somewhat. I killed these stitches. Then I trampled on their grave by stitching over with a different colour, in different holes. Such a betrayal.
There it is then… I have respect for the stitches. I often rescue embroidered items from charity shops, embroider over stains, or chop things up to re-use them, giving them extra life. Respect for the stitcher. So to undo my stitches for the purpose of the work, has up to now been a step too far.
Today, I think I shall ferret out a bit of someone else’s embroidery, an anonymous stitcher, and unpick it, just to see how it feels. I shall be a sociopathic dis-embroiderer.
Then when I’ve spent the month doing all these footprints, I might… MIGHT…. Unpick some of them….
Melodramatic? MOI?
