Keeping It Going

Feeling whimsical … sentimental about the past and yet pleased about going forward and progress being made …

I’ve been thinking about my late Nana a lot more than usual over the past few weeks because of the work I’m making. My latest reconfiguration of the ‘Fabric of Life’ into a new work, 20/25 has meant a lot of contact with the fabrics from my Nana’s home, in which she lived for some 70 years. Plus, I’ve retrieved the powder puffs from storage, to be included in the group show, ‘Blusher’ organised and curated by artist Cathy Lomax opening soon.

I wrote this in a post here a couple of weeks ago:

‘I can’t tell you how good it feels to be able to easily access and pull out just about any item out of thousands. This theory was tested just this past week when I referred to my ‘stuff in boxes’ list, all neatly typed, and was able to easily locate a bunch of powder puffs. Well, I say easily – it still involved a lot of shunting around of boxes to get to them, but I knew where they were, which box they were in and that’s a very good start!’

There are a few things mislaid – my collection of beautiful babes in arms photos, for example. I remember I put them in a book somewhere to keep them in a safe place but I have no idea now where that safe place might be. I’m sure they’ll turn up one day – but I’ll quietly obsess about them until they do, I know!

I’ve sifted and sorted through my collections so many times now that it’s inevitable that some sort of order has been achieved and reading back through this blog, it’s amazing to think how much better organised my collected paraphernalia now is. There will always be room for improvement but I know I’ve come along in leaps and bounds in terms of organisation. There was a time when my stuff was in flimsy cardboard boxes – that’s when the vermin got in! – whereas now, everything’s in plastic boxes with lids, so much more protected.

I estimated the other day that there’s probably over £500 worth of boxes in my storage shed – worth way more than their contents, I’m sure! But then, that’s in monetary terms – the emotional value of my collections is way more – priceless, in fact, in so many ways.

The powder puffs I mentioned above are a case in point: on the surface, just a bundle of used items, gathered together, begging the question – and one which I’ve been asked many times over the years- why on earth do I have them and how can they be of any real value?

Very little of what I collect is about monetary value – amongst other things, it’s about love, remembrance, capturing and honouring the past and holding onto a part of people I’ve encountered in my life, some who I’ve loved and lost, and some who are still around, connected in one way or another. It’s also about gathering together things that have simply caught my eye and I like well enough to want to own. I’ve become more discerning in this respect over the years and inevitably, as I’ve changed, so have my choices and taste in what I choose to collect.

But back to the powder puffs and the fact that one of them (pictured above, second on left) belonged to my late Nana brings a whole new significance. I retrieved it from her dressing table when I went with my Mum and sister to start the process of packing up my Nana’s home, following on from her move to a nursing home in the last few months of her life. Nana, widowed young, spent a large part of her life living independently at home and coming from that waste not, want not generation meant that she’d held onto a lot of stuff – especially in the three upstairs bedrooms which over the years, had become increasingly inaccessible to her. I remember both as a child and an adult, being sent upstairs to look for certain items – and was frequently awe struck by Nana’s ability to remember exactly where everything was – ‘six linen table napkins, second drawer on the left in the front bedroom.’

Perhaps it’s this memory that drives me to get my own house in order so that I, too, one day will know where everything is.

The fabric/circle of life …

I’m back to painting the embroidery hoops – well, perfecting them to be precise, touching up those last minute missed bits, working indoors these past mornings where it’s a little cooler, shielding myself from the heat in the garden studio. I’ve been working from my late Nana’s table which feels very apt as I continue with this body of work that’s dedicated to her, in love and remembrance.

I can’t help thinking about the embroidery hoops as metaphors of the circle of life; I’m thinking about the numerous times I’ve been seated round this table in the past – with my Nana and with many other members of my extended family, so many of them no longer with us. But the table is – still here, with me now, as part of the next generation – the eternal cycle of life.

So, all twenty five hoops are now almost painted and ready. In the meantime, I’ve gathered together fabrics for this latest configuration of the ‘Fabric of Life’ which captures moments of my late Nana’s life – every piece sparks a memory of her: the mother of six children, widowed young and just about ‘getting by’ on a modest income – a proud woman who liked to keep herself and her children ‘looking respectable’ as she would say. The fabrics capture the essence of their time, materials from as early as 1920, through to 2010. There are many thoughts and feelings associated with the fabrics – happy memories of helping my Nana around the house – pegging out clothes, for example, swamped in an oversized apron myself, which she insisted I wear to keep my clothes clean.

On Wednesday, I made a site visit to where the hoops are going to be installed. It’s going to a challenging install but with help (and sufficient time) I’ll get there! I sense already that the venue manager and staff are experienced, positive and receptive to artists using their space. That’s not always the case, so it feels like a good start.

The work I’m going to be installing is 20/25. I’ll be suspending twenty fabric hoops, gathered from my Nana’s long-lived life and then inviting people who live in or have a current (or past) association with Deptford to bring a swatch of their own fabric to create an alternative installation, celebrating all that Deptford encompasses, with its diverse social and cultural history.

I am hoping to fill twenty five hoops, gathered from the Deptford community. You never know how participatory work will pan out and relying on an audience can be a bit nerve-wracking at times but I’ve experienced this many times before with my 10×10 project.

And so, I’ll be sitting tight, hoping for the best, hoping that the fabric swatches appear and even better, just like in 10×10, that people are happy and willing to share the stories behind them.

Recurring themes …

In the midst of change, when no actual physical work is being made, it’s sometimes hard to hold onto feeling like an artist (whatever that is!). That whole art v life/life v art dilemma – it’s so easy to feel deflated about not making work. I’ve used a quote here before from Anne Truitt’s ‘Daybook.’ Her words resonate every time I read them:

‘Experience tells me that it’s best to just give into things –-give up on plans to make any work until the proverbial storm has passed. But that’s all much more easily said than done, as so many artists know – that perpetual nagging feeling about wanting to be making work, versus the feeling that you ought to be somewhere else – a tension around what we should be doing, as opposed to what we want to do.’

Anne Truitt speaks for many artists, women artists and mothers, particularly – telling it like it is in all things associated with life and art – the effort required to find a balance between the two – to excel at both, even.

I went to make a couple of small adjustments to my website yesterday and noticed that it’s a while since I put up any ‘new’ work. I had one of those ‘moments’ – feeling a bit useless, frustrated with myself for not being more productive and so on. But then I reminded myself that emptying out my studio at the end of 2024 and finally making the break to bring my studio space into my home, was a HUGE task. And that’s without mentioning the subsequent cataloguing I undertook, compiling the most up to date record ever of just about every item I now have stored away in a garden shed – over one hundred 30 litre boxes at that!

I can’t tell you how good it feels to be able to easily access and pull out just about any item out of thousands. This theory was tested just this past week when I referred to my ‘stuff in boxes’ list, all neatly typed, and was able to easily locate a bunch of powder puffs. Well, I say easily – it still involved a lot of shunting around of boxes to get to them, but I knew where they were, which box they were in and that’s a very good start!

Now that I’m back on track and working hard on another configuration of ‘Fabric of Life’ for an upcoming show – and consequently, distracted from overthinking – l’m looking back at the sheer volume of stuff I’ve moved and reorganised and am feeling inclined to be a little less harsh on myself, cutting myself some slack and commending myself for a lot of hard, physical work. It was indeed, a momentous task – all a necessary part of my working process – and I’m finally starting to reap the rewards and feel the benefit.

In the absence of being part of a studio group and starting to work from my studio at home since the start of this year, I joined hARTslane gallery space as a member. It’s always felt a special place to me – diverse, inclusive, with sound values – and it feels a privilege to have had a prolonged connection with such a positive, friendly space. Life’s taken over somewhat since I joined and sadly, I’ve only managed to make it along to a couple of their many shows and events so far this year but I’m hoping that will change.

I did manage to contribute something to Tin, a risograph zine curated by Rachel Lonsdale and Max Melvin, however. The curators propose to: ‘gather the defining mood or spirit of this period … moving across the year with a new open call and new zine every season.’ These calls are open to artists who have become hARTslane members. See link to the various artist membership schemes here: https://www.hartslane.org/index.php/support-us/

And so, in March, I responded to a call for a 200 word piece on the theme of nature for the Tin zine, in which I feel I captured my own defining mood with regards to the UK’s current socio-political climate. Writing the piece confirmed yet again how hard it is for me to separate art, life and politics:

I saw a robin in the garden the other day. The tiny red-breasted bird is associated with the arrival of spring, new beginnings, hope and optimism. Funnily enough, I’d just been reading an article by John McDonnell, criticising the UK Labour Party’s latest policies. The Labour Party is also of course, traditionally associated with the colour red – the red flag, for instance, associated with left-wing politics and socialism since the French Revolution.

The Labour Party used to be associated with hope as well – a champion of the downtrodden and the vulnerable. Nowadays, it’s a different story, as expressed by McDonnell in the article I read. He accused ministers of lacking empathy over recently proposed benefit cuts: ‘treating disabled and sick people callously flies in the face of all the party stands for – the government must rethink its plans.’

It’s also believed that robins are sent as a messenger for lost, loved ones. Perhaps the one I saw represented the deep loss I feel for a political party that truly represents my values, stays faithful to its principles and stands up for those in society who most need it.

Kate Murdoch, March, 2025

Time to talk about austerity again?!

The impact of sorting and itemising just about every object I own (for art’s sake) took its toll on the state of my home. It’s just about sorted now but after months of minimal tidying up and cleaning up my living space, it’s been quite a task getting it back into its former liveable space. In between, there’s been some tweaking to do in order to sort out the new studio space in the garden. Juggling stuff between the garden studio, storage shed and my house has taken time but I’m so very nearly there. So much there, in fact, that I’m writing this from my new work space, trying my best not to be distracted by what needs to be done in the garden!

I’ve had half an eye on the news while all the above’s been going on, but there’s been a lot I’ve had to turn a blind eye to, simply not feeling able to stomach listening to one dire report after another, involving ever-growing, alarming increases in armed conflicts, economic and climate crises, the infringement of human rights and mind boggling discrimination.

Sadly, I have to look no further than the UK these past few days to see such negative reports. Recent news of Labour MPs rebelling against Keir Starmer’s latest welfare reform proposals suggest that austerity might just be in fashion again. Over 40 Labour MPs have told Starmer that they cannot support his intended welfare cuts and reports out on Friday claimed it’s the biggest attack on the welfare state ‘since George Osborne ushered in austerity.’

While sorting, I came across the box with my bread and roses in – still there after all these years, still decaying and still standing as a symbol of the austerity that I hoped (expected!) had gone down with the last Tory government. I would have doubted anyone who told me that there would be a threat of new austerity measures being imposed by a Labour government and that the work I created then would still feel relevant today, ten years on. ‘Bread and Roses’ was created in response to the election results of 2015 and was inspired by a statement put out on Twitter by artist, Jean McEwan. Jean asked the question, ‘how do we get through this?’ A number of artists responded in various ways and a zine was created to include their contributions. I focused on the austerity measures imposed by the then Tory government, recognising the impact that withdrawing financial support from the most vulnerable people in our society would have.

Four years on, cut to another General Election in December 2019, I had this to say:

‘… the remains of the bread and roses are hanging on for dear life – dried-out and husks of their former selves – all but gone, though there are traces still. The neglect and lack of care is well and truly set in and the images below represent the very real and devastating impact of austerity measures imposed upon the most vulnerable and poor.’

I remember those soul destroying days well … and yet, here we are, having gone full circle, this time under a Labour government. John McDonnell accused Labour ministers recently of lacking empathy over recently proposed benefit cuts – ‘treating disabled and sick people callously flies in the face of all the party stands for.’ Disappointment doesn’t cover it – I can barely find the words to sum up my feelings for a party which traditionally, stood for a party of hope – a champion of the downtrodden and most vulnerable members of our society. I feel an enormous sense of loss for a political party that truly represents my values, stays faithful to its principles and stands up for those in society who most need it.