After an intense day at work I have attempted to unwind by drawing intense lines. This is for a series of ‘maps’ I have been creating from the deep field photograph of the Hubble Telescope, intended to somehow be a significant piece of my final work. I am not sure how this interplay will function, as I will be working with a whopping great piece that will probably look out of place wherever it goes. But then again that’s what I like about it: the sheer weirdness of the shape of the imagined final piece that I have in my head.
I do of course keep reminding myself of the links and bridges that have formed out of my research. The most prominent concept (apart from the feminine/masculine interplay between science and stitch) is currently the notion of the ‘sublime’. For those who don’t know, in aesthetics the ‘sublime’ (sublimis) is the quality of greatness, whether physical, moral, intellectual, metaphorical, metaphysical, aesthetic, spiritual or artistic. This term especially applies to greatness beyond all possibility of calculation, measurement or imitation, for example, the greatness of space.
Part of my project is attempting to digest the indigestible into a readable, familiar, yet captivating format (in this case, small-scale and gem-like embroideries). I have also discovered the undersides of the embroideries to be particularly captivating. The messy, random, connecting of thread in lines seemed to relate to the jagged, random map I had drawn of the universe, and also echoed my work in my first year, an installation entitled Wire in Woods (2010) where I wound washing wire (and other string-based materials) into my varying environments.
This correlation of obsessive methods is in no way conscious. It seems to be ingrained into my psyche and keeps creeping up. For some reason I do find it to be a particularly fruitful way to work: to sew, to animate by hand, or to obsessively wrap things. The practicalities of embroidering quickly got me thinking about ideas of ordered chaos, the theory that one may create order by introducing disorder.
Another main engagement with this project has been the irony in the futile method of working: the almost ‘ineffective’ attempt to capture the ‘sublime’ in the domestic stitch. I am not quite sure yet how my pieces will resolve themselves in the space I will create, but am very eager to find out. It may be that it’s perfect, or that nothing works at all. I’m booked into the workshop again tomorrow. I’m hoping to get some walls built and a ceiling made.
