I’m pleased to say that I am in the Fronteer Gallery Contemporary Textiles show in Sheffield, running until the 6th March.
My greatest, longstanding friends came to the opening yesterday at 4pm and I want to say thank you to Verity, Janet, Jane, Sue and Wendy. It’s my first showing in Sheffield and I hope, not my last.
opening nighthere it isWe live in Time
‘We live in Time’, is a knitted textile piece incorporating a hand- knitted vest and two photographs of sisters from 1970. The work is about the gaps in the relationship between me and my sister and me not being able to reach her which also takes into consideration the Japanese concept of Ma, the spaces in between (間 ) the silences, the unspoken, past and present.
I was born on 26/06/1963, my sister 11 months later on 27/05/1964. Our mother dressed us identically for about 12 years until we tried to impress our own tastes upon the clothes we wore. My Grandad enjoyed the latest photographic technology available to a working-class man. He took many photographs, particularly in 1970 when I was seven and my sister, six years old. In these photographs, my sister and I stand beside each other but rarely touch – there is an unspoken physical and emotional space between us. All of the images were ‘set up’ in a way for my mother to show that her daughters were ‘well turned out’.
There are hand written words over one of the photographs – ‘What about our Julie?’, which is what I always asked if I was ever given anything. There is a poignancy from then to now, where there is still a wide gap between us.
I have knitted a vest in nine dark colours chosen by my sister as an expression of her choice now. When I asked her what her favourite colours are – she said, black, navy, dark red and mustard – I had to knit with some contrast. We were cut from the same cloth but with totally different personalities. I knitted the same article for myself but it has 100 colours.
‘We live in Time,’ questions the discouraged individuality growing up in a working class home in the 60’s / 70’s – and the ever growing space between sisters.
Here is the making of it –
At Burbage edge
knitting in Cafe 9
both pieces together
motif
If you would like to join me in a workshop to help you make your own vest, here is the link and I created a chart of all the motifs and colours I used for the jumper – it is here.
I have also been chosen to be part of the FarField Mill Contemporary Textiles Exhibition, in Cumbria, running from March 19th to 1st June with two pieces. I am very excited about this. There is a ‘public favourite choice’, so if you get to FarField for the show, then, please take a look at mine – the two pieces to be exhibited are below
Trying to Just keep Going
I cannot reach you
It’s faintly snowing outside, her in Sheffield. Have a good day wherever you are 🙂
I am really excited to bring you my latest knitting pattern design – My Fair Isle Hat Scarf – which has been a complete labour of love to create this twelve page pattern containing a complete guide of size, gauge, colours and all motifs used in this hat. There are 10 Full colour charts, over 8 pages, showing clear motif and colour layout, ranging from an A4 page full colour overview of the full bands of motifs making up this pattern – to additional pages of magnified, larger scale sections of the charts in order for you to see them easily.
Additional to the Fair Isle colour charts, there are written and photographic instructions and I have included a full Sanquhar alphabet and numbers 0-9 because I knitted words into my piece and the alphabet chart enables you to do the same or personalise your own work, with your own meaningful words, names or dates knitted into your hat so that you can make it your own. You can also add dates.
This Fair Isle long Kep/ scarf, is a bright, fun, functional, practical, colourful, wearable long hat, designed using large traditional OXO and smaller peerie Fair Isle motifs to create a unique long hat. It was originally designed as an exhibition piece by thinking how I can connect to my sister. My own hat has expressive words knitted into it. They’re from individual text messages sent to me by my sister – KEEP SAFE… KEEP WARM… JUST KEEP GOING… Remember, you can add your own words to make it your own creative work by using the alphabet chart included in the pattern.
KEEP WARM, KEEP SAFE, and JUST KEEP GOING, are individual text messages sent to me by my sister, they are short simple and caring, meant for me but also act as reminders to herself.
For the textile art exhibition, I titled the long Fair Isle hat scarf, ‘Trying to Just keep going’, but, it is also a wearable knitted artwork, using intricate, colourful, Fair Isle motifs to create a long hat /scarf. You can easily follow the pattern and make your own artwork
My sister and I were born in the 1960’s. I finished this hat/scarf as a tribute to her – to keep warm, safe and to just keep going. There is some kind of paradox between the colourful, cosy, knitted piece and the texted words, which could seem irregular on a knitted hat.
The words invite the viewer to read the piece through words and could raise the question of what words in knitwear can mean to them.
On 5th Jan, I walked in the snow wearing both the ‘Trying to Keep Going’, hat scarf and the, ‘I Cannot Reach You’ jumper – I thought of the words knitted into the piece – KEEP WARM, KEEP SAFE, JUST KEEP GOING, and I felt them all for myself, at that moment.
The below words have been sent to me by Mary Mullens, who kindly test knitted this piece. I asked Mary if she would like to test knit because she has attended my online workshop to understand how to blend colours, tone, contrast and pattern as well as knitting some of my patters but more than that, Mary has developed experimental skills and has been up for learning along the way. She has very much enjoyed knitting this hat/scarf – here are her words. She is happy to share them and her story shows that we do not know what people are going through and how the stabilising qualities of knitting help us with our mental health. Me included.
Test Knit of Long Kep for Tracey Doxey 2025 – Mary Mullins.
I have been knitting since 1986 when I had my daughter. I continued for a few years and made jumpers for my children. I then found life got in the way and also living with an alcoholic husband, my mental health did not help.
After many years alone and not really thinking of marriage, I met my current husband Mark and we married in 2018. He became critically ill from covid 19 in 2022 and was on a ventilator in ITU for 2 weeks, he needed emergency open heart surgery as the virus destroyed his valves. He then had a stroke while under anaesthetic and fractured his back. He developed seizures and lost most of his mobility.
As a result of this I was off work for 2 months and when I returned, I went back part time so I had time to visit him in hospital in London’s St Barts.
I don’t know why but I decided to knit again. It helped my mental health and I took it on with a vengeance. I have knitted 7 jumpers, numerous hats, 3 cowls, baby clothes and toys including Bag Puss and an Elephant. These items made great Christmas and birthday Presents as we had very little income due to loss of husbands earning and mine being cut in half.
Somehow my addictive personality has established a huge stash of wools of all kinds and gathered all the needs that I needed.
I also have hundreds of patterns that one day I hope to knit.
When Tracey asked me if I would like to Test Knit her new project, I was amazed to be honest. I never imagined I was good enough to do it. I have enjoyed this project immensely and it has really been a challenge as I was not aware of just how much feedback I was meant to give regarding the pattern ect.
I was a little nervous but embraced it in my usual enthusiastic way and dug out every strand of Jamison’s wool and wanted to use as many colours as I could. I found I had an extensive stash which fills 3 boxes and started straight away.
When thinking about the words I wanted to use in the kep I decided on “Lots of Love and Hugs”, I have conversations by wattsapp with my mum daily and we always close the messages this way. For the 2nd row of words, I am still thinking what to do. I have plenty of quotes that are especially meaningful to me so thinking keps on 😊
I have been using the tips I learnt in Tracey’s workshop for the colour choices to help with the sets of colour for each band.
Jamison’s do such lovely colours and there is a huge choice. One day I would like to have a ball of every colour.
This journey has been an amazing experience and I was chuffed to see my name and a photo of my work at the end of the pattern.
Thankyou Tracey for giving me this opportunity and all the very best with the launch.
Here are some images of Mary’s test knitting for the long Fair Isle Kep scarf.
And here is Judy MacGlaflin’s test knit image. A great big thank you to both Mary and Judy for knitting this piece. I will update their test knit images in a future post.
My field of Art has been knitted textiles for a long time, including a Masters in Knitting at Nottingham Trent University 2016 – 2018. I often placed my knitted textiles into the landscape to create site specific photographic art which explored the social histories of women and the making of knitted articles.
I am currently working on a wall based knitted jumper piece called, ‘I Cannot Reach You.’ It is taking into consideration the Japanese concept of 間 （Ma) – the silences and the spaces in between all things, and relating it to the relationship between me and my sister.
I would like to learn about the meaning and concept of the Japanese word Ma 間and relate it to the way in which I experience life, don’t you think it would make life fuller? We do not have this word or meaning in England and to look at the spaces is as interesting as looking at the solid things.
I would like to explore what ‘Ma’, looks like to me, in the space between all things and use textiles and print to express my new understanding of this. If you are Japanese and have and wisdom to share, please do.
I have recently started to develop Cyanotype prints using pressed wild flowers to create images that are often half present, a little ghostly. I am looking at making wallpaper strips to utilise the cyanotype printing process to create the deepest blue papers with hints of British wild flowers, to look a little at the spaces in between in the prints. Yesterday, I made to sample strips out in the yard at bloc studios, where I have a small space to work.
Currently, I am experimenting and, as you can see, the process is open to risk and failure, but the two wallpaper strips are becoming more loved by me because of the spaces in between. One has less impressions of the flowers than the other due to both my impatience of removing the flowers and due to the wind shifting them but maybe just pure blue is lovely enough with a hint of a story of flowers in smaller areas – less ‘gilding the lily’ to speak.
Today, I hung the papers on my wall at home to really look at what is present and what is a faint mark only, and what is in the spaces. I like the results, in some way, they remind me of the Japanese screens that I saw in the temples in Kyoto. But maybe I need to make them more sparse. Let me know your thoughts.
If you would like to join me in my next online workshops, they are in the link here.
If you would like to contact me about hand printed cyanotype wallpaper strips, please do so 😊
If you would like to follow me on instagram, where there are lots more images, then, I am in the link here
This weekend, I have watched two films online – the first, Jo Jo Rabbit and the second, ‘Hunt for the Wilder People’, both directed, (amongst many other things ) by Taika Waititi, a New Zealand Film Maker, then of course, I looked up Taika and watched his TedX talk from 13 years ago and already saw the influences from his part Jewish back ground in his writing of Jo Jo Rabbit, and in which he stars as Jo Jo’s imaginary friend, Hitler.
In his TedX talk, Taika, says all of the things he does, ‘they’re all tools’ he painted, wrote poetry, made films, travelled, was a comedian and all these things visibly influenced his work then and now.
I looked around at my tools, knitting, crochet, travel, drawing, photography, writing, sewing, colour, landscape, and noticed that, of course, these are my tools. The tools I am bringing to my new studio -which, at the moment looks slightly hopeless on the output front. I am playing with cyanotypes from attending a small workshop here in Sheffield. My hands are dry from washing papers out in water, the washed out liquid colouring my fingers. I wondered if the studio is one expense too much for me because I will not earn from it. And yet, here I am, on a quiet Sunday afternoon, after visiting the Buddhist Centre at Walkley’s, Summer Fair, I am here, present, in this tiny room with windows on both sides, sunshine pouring in, Gorecki Symphony of Sorrowful Songs, playing to me and I am content.
I’ve opened my tin of Lomo photographs from when I lived in the Hutongs of Beijing, the winter of 2010/11 to remind me of the far off places that I have been and to bring a thread of future travel here in to the old steel works building – which embeds me in Sheffield.
I am learning new things and Ideas are coming, practice led ideas but for now, I am excusing my inability to produce anything profound, by say, ‘ I am playing’, though for how long, I do not know.
If you are in Sheffield and want to come and visit me, get in touch. If you would like to support me, then please buy a knitting pattern, this will help pay for my studio 😊 the patterns are here, and very good. The patterns are here
I am making cyanotypes with all the pressed flowers from my garden and from hanging over walls in the city. This is my favourite one so far. I actually like the accidental finding of washi tape that is holding the tiny daisy in place.
When I moved to Shetland, I just flippantly mentioned, ‘write to me’ in one of my instagram posts after I shared my writing space in the croft house. Over 100 people sent postcards, this time, it is different. I am in the city, but I am still me.
Today, I am in an old steel works in Sheffield, If you fancy sending me a postcard from where ever you live, then I would love to receive it. I am in
Studio 10, Bloc Studios, 4 Sylvester Street, Sheffield, South Yorkshire, S1 4RN
I lived in Beijing for the winter of 2010 and used 3 cameras, my favourite being my plastic analogue Lomo camera. The beauty of Lomo images is that you don’t know if you have captured anything at all on film, or if they will develop and when you get your little pack of prints, all of the images are a beautiful surprise. Yesterday, I got to look back at my lovely Lomo images from the time that I lived in Beijing and Suzhou, by using the negatives in a cyanotype workshop, led by the lovely Andy Dolan held at Carousel Print Studios, here in Sheffield.
I know I had a great time because I forgot about my bike and its safety and I didn’t think about what I could eat next ( much).
Here are some of my cyanotype prints from this workshop and Andy looking brilliant in the last image outside Exchange Place Studios, run by Yorkshire Art Space.
I already have lots of new ideas for grand projects including wallpaper. (why start small) I have rented an artist studio for 2 months to see how I go. It’s good when you find something new that’s exciting. It is good to learn new skills and make new stuff.
here is my previous wallpaper spell, but going forward, I not print lace, I will print summer flowers in wonder blue – just now sure how I can make it work yet.
It is a piece about the space between me and my sister, born 11 months apart.
It has been one year in the making.
It is love.
Our mother dressed my sister and I in identical clothes for about 12 years until we found the voices to be different. We were born in 1963 and 1964. You did what you were told. And, we were told. Clothes say so much about the wearer, about the social history, about what people what to portray, about many things.
My nana knitted us identical cardigans – probably for the same amount of years. But my sister and I were very different people. And we are very different people today. I am not sure if differences in kids was either an accepted or a noticed thing in the 60’s. It certainly wasn’t in our house.
I will knit another piece, in the colours that my sister likes – Black, Grey, Navy, Dark Red and Mustard and place it alongside this piece, made up of over 90 colours and I will hang it beside this piece. I am interested in the Japanese concept of Ma 間 the spaces and the silences in between all things. when the 2 pieces are placed alongside each other, they will show the spaces between us.
For now, this peice will be entered into the Harley Foundation open, because I am regional, because it is art, because, it is love.
On a practical level, I will be starting a knitalong for the Fair Isle worksheet that accompanies this knitted pullover and will email everyone who has bought this pattern to ask if they/you would like to join a free 1 hours zoom session on the worksheet and how I made the pullover with a Q&A, so that they / you can join in the knitalong and use the worksheet to your advantage – to make what you want – hat, scarf, vest, pullover.
If you would like to join me, I will be starting in about a month.
I had a dream, I achieved that dream but I had to leave it behind. My story is about finding joy / fear, love and loss, heart and soul – trapped and free over the duration of 14 months.
Capturing that year is too big a task. So, I am trying. Many people write about their dream to leave the city and to move to an island life – few write about the reality of that seismic change and the decision to leave the dream, of leaving behind hopes, love, dreams, can be read as failure – but only to those who have never tried.
I tried my hardest and here are the remains of that massive attempt. This is the story I created, then broke down with hardly a word to say for it.
THE HOUSE OF TWO WOMEN
Dear Susan.
Synopsis
‘I stand for a second to take in the moment, to look at the old plank-board door with a square wooden knob, which I finally turn sharply to the right. The simple mechanism lifts a wooden latch inside. Human touch has left tangible traces of every hand that has opened this door before me. The hollow sound of the sneck – a door latch hitting its casing – is what I will always remember of this place. I understand that it is a unique sound to this house, one that will forever embody a simple place of great beauty. In this exact moment, I am sold on the sound of a wooden latch and the view of the stone flag floor in the empty room in front of me. Before the agent has even arrived, I know that I will not pull out of this crazy unfinished deal to buy this house and change my life forever. I won’t admit to the agent that it is the sound of the sneck that sealed the deal, but it is.’
This book is my story: a single, 57-year-old Yorkshire woman who dared to follow a dream against all odds; to sell up and risk all to move lock, stock and two cats from a small city flat to a home facing the sea, in the northernmost reaches of Scotland, the islands of Shetland. It is a love letter to Shetland and its extreme elemental landscapes; to an old croft house and three generations of the same family who lived there for more than 140 years, knitting and landscapes. It is an accumulation of impulses. This is also the story of hope and desire and of demise and leaving.
Here, are the bones of my life of one year on an island and the letters I wrote to Susan Halcrow, a woman that once lived in the house, from 1876 to 1960. It unfolds in monthly instalments, beginning on the very first day I visited the house, and heard the sneck, in August 2020, to my last sunrise in October 2021, when I walked away, never to look back again. I dreamed of living on the island to be closer to nature, creativity and a life less ordinary, with my knitting practice at the heart of every day; of moving through slow travel across sea and natural beauty, to come to a personal understanding of both inner and outer landscapes. I never dreamed I would want to leave to return to the city.
I hope to share how emotionally challenging it is to make such a seismic life-change from city to island life and how my being an incomer, made it hard to find community both with some islanders and with some other local incomers.
The full book, written entirely from the islands of Shetland, ending abruptly in October 2021, offering an insight into island life and, finally explaining the reasons why I had to sell up and leave, to never look back again. Here, I draw out the bones of it in letters to Susan.
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? Mary Oliver.
After waiting for it to open, to being completely overwhelmed by the contents of the tiny place, from listening to the owner who is the 18th generation of over 400 years of the same family, to sell sewing needles, in this tiny place – down an alley in a shopping mall – to restraining myself and replacing the initial selection. Then, after buying my painstakingly considered choice, I sit in the zen garden in front of the tiny shop hoping for the jade green bird with the white circles round it’s eyes to return. A steady stream of women visit and ponder the wonders of sewing needles. Not just any sewing needles but French ones and Japanese ones for silk kimonos, long ones for denim and then, the very special hand made ones which are so very expensive that I still don’t think they pay enough for the skilled craftsman who hand-makes a steel needle with an eye for sewing thread.
I ponder the wonders that I have just seen – some of which, I cannot see well enough to see the eye at the end of the finest needles hich a Japanese seamstress uses. The owner, explains to me he lost his hair in 2000, whilst he is pulling out small cane woven baskets from under the counter, containing sewing needles in their neat rows related to sizes, which are placed inside a neatly fitted cushioni. So when I look and try to figure out which needles my friend in Shetland might want, he patiently tells me the story of each size and what they are for. I choose us both the same – French needles – sizes 6 and 7’s then we have a hope of threading them. I buy a pack of 8’s and also a tiny hand-made pin cushion and one of those wire things to aid threading a needle with a tiny eye, which he promptly tells me is not special ( you can buy this anywhere) and it will break. But, the needles are another story – fine packaging is the appeal too. The owner counts up how much I owe him but I don’t really mind. A Japanese lady, about my age, and he mother, in her 80’s are in the shop with me. The mum is so lovely – I hope not to sound patronising, which I also say to the daughter when I say that her mum is adorable. She has shrunk to tiny and she is as sharp as a pin herself. This is their first time in the shop although the mum lives close by. Her nifty hands feel the needles, as did mine.
The shop is a tiny explosive experience of need/ want/ desire management which requires restraint. After all, they are only needles and only a pin cushion, aren’t they?
As we three customers chat, the owner points out the marvellous bright green little Kyoto bird that has flown into the garden for the oranges. It is exquisite, so after I have paid, I move to the bench in the garden, waiting for it to return while a new stream of buyers file past, into the tiny shop. This exquisite little heavenly garden fronting the shop is a dream – granite bird water baths, large stones covered in moss like the moss gardens in the temples, small low growing lilac flowers, deep red camelia, berries and two trees. Irises too.
No bird returns so I finally haul myself off the bench and head back down the tiny alley to the crazy life outside this calm oasis.
The needle shop is Misuyabari, located on Sanjo Dori inside the shopping centre – it is closed on Thursdays. It might take you till then to find it.
I had forgotten to read, almost forgotten how to read. Reading used to be my go to, my come down, my love but now, my time being taken up with work and knitting admin, I had forgotten how the written words of others, feed my own written words.
Nourishing transient words and thoughts flowing from the simple act of reading.
To neglect my relationship with the written word removes one of my senses – not sound, nor sight, nor taste, touch or smell but the 6th sense of inspiration.
I am visiting Kyoto for 3 weeks in December / January – to nourish excitement, to be in the moment, to be baffled by everything in front of me by not recognising a thing – not the written or spoken word, nor the food or shops or culture – to have, in essence, my senses born again. I am also going whilst I still have most of my own faculties, though I may have to tie my name and Japanese address on a string around my neck.
To pursue a real and floating world that I never knew existed is exciting. Who knows where it may lead. Three weeks, or thereabout, give or take forty hours of travel in the sky and waiting in my old beloved Pudong airport, is a wonderful hard-earned gift in life. To leave a son and a daughter at Christmas would be unthinkable to most, but ‘Christmas’ is brief and we will make it up at the beginning of December – tree and all.
My trip to Kyoto slots in between a holiday break given at work (plus a few days either end) and, although a great financial cost, I will make do – cycling around the city, walking and eating cheaply. I will wash my clothes in the wash tubs on the roof of the hostel over looking the mountain and I will live small with big thoughts. I will stay in the attic of a hostel owned in Kyoto by a couple that I met in China in 2008, when they owed a hostel in Chengdu. They sold up and moved to Kyoto. I never thought that I would ever see them again but I return, to people, to places. They are beautiful people and Maki has been in touch regarding the booking. I feel quietly excited although a little nervous.
I am knitting Maki a gift, which I will wrap beautifully and hand over to her with two hands and a faint bow as a sign of respect – something I learned in China and became second nature. Respect for a hard working woman, for communication, and mutual respect.
So much still to organise, the thoughts are on a little back burner, slowly simmering.
For now, on this rainy day in Sheffield, I am having a delicious hour with the three books that I bought in the summer from a real book shop. That day, I returned to work and said to my colleague, ‘ I think I’ll nip to Japan. After all, I bought the books so now I have to go. ‘
I’m thinking of taking a small business card to reflect my knitting, this is a mock up, it is not the finished image but an idea – quite ridiculous and not at all corporate – What do you think?
My Friday morning view is no longer a sunrise cracking open the horizon line between where the sea meets the sky, it isn’t even a window with a view but the sight of two faithful, calm cats that have been two years and 12 different places of living, sleeping calmly, nose tucked into tail or paws in pockets. This may seem small and normal but for the three of us, it marks that we have come home. Even if my book is accidently placed upon Alfie, he does not flinch except to wrap his arm over his face, he is calm. All three of us have been like sprung cats for so long that I see their relaxed bodies and know that we have found a safe place and a place of our own to come and go as we please. They have their little door built into my door and we are settling into our own patterns. I have no idea where they go when they leave the flat, but they always return and they return to me.
What an honour.
This home is far from perfect – not in structure nor function, form or where I thought I would ever be but it is a place to build upon, a platform from which to go and return to, it will be a creative space when everything that is broken will be mended. It’s just a ground floor flat, in a block of three built in the 80’s with bad plumbing that will never be entirely fixed and a view of a waving silver birch and a brick wall over the road. The outside will always be communal and there is noise and quiet. After Shetland, this may appear a shocking decision but it was a very considered decision that was in my price range in these crippling house prices. I chose it for its location and that I know it because it is in the same set of flats that I lived in and sold to move to Shetland.
Irony or fate to return to the place of leaving? I reread The Alchemist, to try to understand this more. That the real treasure is under our feet.
I am back on the doorstep of The Peak District whilst having access to city stuff. Yesterday, the brokenness of all of this became overwhelming but today is a new day.
I look at my faithful cats to take a leaf out of their books. Find comfort, lie down, rest, sleep. I have forgotten how to rest, if ever I did in the first instance.
My Friday morning view is of simple things that mark a journey of my life
Freshly painted walls
A natural, thick, heavy, old French linen bed sheet on a Victorian iron bed.
A memory filled, long loved, favourite silk ruffled dress that has been repaired hanging on the wall.
Original B/W photographs of Sheffield’s Park Hill flats taken in the 60’s, made for an exhibition in the 80’s by Roger Mayne
Ink drawings bought in the old lanes of Shanghai when I lived in China.
2 calm, sleeping cats
A glass bottle jar from Shetland waiting to be a garden
A lovingly made crochet blanket with over 1,000 tiny squares.
The books I am reading litter the bed.
Sea urchin shells from Shetland, all in a row
A beautiful painting of my knitting sent to me by French artist Françoise Delot-Rolando when I was low.
An etching copy of Hokusai’s The Great Wave bought from the studio at Monet’s Garden in Giverny over 20 years ago.
A dried flower ring of roses and peonies that I made in an attic room in Sheffield this summer.
I’m coming to terms with things. Challenges and changes. My view is a room that is finally a home, broken or not.
tracey doxey 