In order to think about similarities that might come together in their two practices, Gill and Joy set up a ‘Pinterest’ board on which to share influential ideas and artists. There was an obvious joint appreciation for textural qualities that enhanced the simplicity of raw materials; an interest in ideas that take nature as a starting point, and recognition of skilled craftwork. For Joy an example is the work of Sudo Reiko who is known for pushing the boundaries of traditional Japanese textile processes using modern technology. For Gill, Hans Coper has influenced her making of sculptural pots from composite forms as a way of extending throwing and hand building techniques.
Work by Sudo Reiko. Work by Hans Coper
Engagement 2:
Having undertaken a residency in Japan (2014), Joy has experience and enjoyment of Japanese aesthetics. 1 Gill’s research into western and eastern attitudes to ecology also touched on Japanese influences.2 These were shared interests, then, through which to begin exploring their relationships to materials and processes.
Examples of useful ideas include the notion of ‘wabi-sabi’: an appreciation of simplicity, and the beauty of the imperfect or fading form. Gill was interested in trying out a traditional Japanese ceramic process called ‘kirinuki’, which describes finding a form by carving into a block of clay. Joy picked up on a translation of the word ‘kirinuki’ as ‘scraps and cuttings’ and related this to the traditional textile process of ‘boroboro’. This refers to the reworking and repairing of a garment or cloth, with patches and stitches that build up many layers over time, thus extending its useful life.
Gill: ‘I made a start on the ‘kirinuki’ process with balls of porcelain clay. The first process was to shape each into a solid bowl form and texture the outside using natural things from my garden such as seed heads, bits of bark and rough pebbles. I then hollowed out from the inside, which stretched and accentuated the textures. Each bowl was refined with rhythmic hand movements, finished inside with loop tool markings and a foot-ring. I enjoyed this process, which is slower and more intuitive than the throwing that I am used to. Each bowl retained an individual character with small eccentricities responding to my touch. (I threw some lids to make the bowls into jars or tea caddies, which formed a connection to my individual work).’
Lidded jars made by Gill using ‘kirinuki’ method
Joy: ‘I have always relished transforming utilitarian and domestic materials through cutting and stitching so early in lockdown I found teabags were accumulating and wondered if they could be stitched successfully without disintegrating. Working in a small space determines the scale of my work and small, repeated motifs then assembled works well in this context. I was in the process of completing these embroidered tea bag flower pieces as finished kimonos when our collaborative journey began.
Kimonos made by Joy from reclaimed teabags
During this time I was also foraging for seasonal materials, sheep’s fleece snagged on brambles and hedgerows and willow whips so began experimenting with these as my base materials. There is a common language between textiles and clay, coiling, folding and trimming. Alongside embracing the Japanese concepts of boro and kirinuki that utilise remnants, mistakes and flaws; these could provide a potential starting place.
How can I connect with Gill’s practice? I referred back to our shared vocabulary and started by making a simple coiled pot on the machine using strips of teabags. This proved difficult as the paper and fibre content of a tea bag is weak and tears easily, so I tried grasses and raffia. Although inconsistent in their construction along the lengths, making machine stitching and forming tricky, the resulting series of randomly built coiled pots were satisfying to handle. Some I paired together to form pods. This imperfection of form felt right.’
Joy stitching teabags and raffia to make pots and pods
Reflection: We realised at this point that we were working quite separately – the things we were making could sit alongside each other for display, but we both knew this was not stretching the possibilities of the materials or making the most of working together. While recognising our shared aesthetic interests would be valuable to the collaboration, the next step was to explore bringing the clay and textiles together to form integrated pieces of work, and we needed to find ways of working that would achieve this.
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1More information about western interpretation of Japanese aesthetics here: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/japanese-aesthetics/
2Imanishi,K.(2002). A Japanese View of Nature. Routledge Curzon, USA.
