A decade of watching, learning and finding colour

When I look back at my time studying for my Master’s degree in Knitting at Nottingham Trent University, between the years of 2016 and 2018, I realise just how much that period continues to influence the creative design work that I make today.  Design isn’t just a thing you do, it has a long history in the designer going back years – and in my case, nearly 50 years.

At NTU, I specialised in Shetland lace motifs, initially developing patterns by hand before translating them on to the hand knitting machine before finally being allowed near CAD –  computer aided designs for power knitting machines. Over two years, I worked through an intensive process of experimentation, travel to and from Shetland and experiential learning until finally learning how to programme the computerised design system to produce exactly the patterns I wanted.

The result was something I was particularly excited about: creating, for the first time at the university, large Shetland lace panels using computer-design power knitting machines.

But my work wasn’t confined to the studio.

During those two years, I travelled backwards and forwards to Shetland, usually around three times a year, taking my developing lace panels and laser-cut work with me. These became the final pieces of my Master’s project. I placed them inside abandoned croft houses across the islands, creating site-specific installations as a testament to the Shetland lace knitters who had once lived and worked in these houses.  If you dig way back, you will see all of this work, here on this blog going back 10 years.

I photographed the work and the abandoned croft house doorways and windows, making a substantial body of site-specific photographic artwork. I was interested in the relationship between the knitted object, the social history of a place and the women whose lives had been connected to it.

During the final months of my Master’s, I was awarded a travel award to visit the island of Unst to record the voices of Shetland knitters. I still have those recordings of the beautiful voices of the women on our furthest most Island – recordings of sea shanty songs too.

My studies took me in directions I hadn’t initially anticipated. I contacted Sarah Burton at Alexander McQueen and worked with the company for a short time in London,  spoke to Yarn companies about yarn sponsorship, moved from traditional hand-knitting into computer-aided design and developed my practice into site-specific photographic work.  Something I didn’t even know existed before starting at NTU.

I graduated in 2018 with a high distinction. What made that achievement particularly meaningful was not simply the innovative use of computer technology to develop Shetland lace, but the breadth of my exploration, the connections I had made and the willingness to take my practice in entirely new directions and to push my own boundaries. 

I loved my time at Nottingham Trent University. It gave me an enormous bedrock of knowledge, experience and confidence, and, perhaps more importantly, I discovered how much I thrive on learning.

This morning I reopened my Master’s journal. There is also a post about this work on my Instagram, here where you can see some of the original materials and swatches in my Technical file.

Looking through the journal again has been unexpectedly and calmly interesting. It has inspired my latest design, which brings together a rather different approach to lace knitting and Fair Isle, using mohair. It is, in some ways, an easy-cheat version of lace knitting, but the thinking and visual exploration behind it have roots in those earlier experiments.

And then something else happened this morning.

I was sitting in a café in Sheffield, looking at the colours of the walls. They were almost a perfect match for the colours I am currently exploring in my new design. I felt an enormous sense of joy. That moment of noticing, recognising and connecting colours is something I never tire of.

Watching and journalling have been part of my life since 2016. For ten years, I have been recording what I see, collecting colour combinations, noticing relationships between colours and documenting the world around me.  And, I have recently been teaching others about colour swatching in my Colour Swatch Journal Groups – information about the group is here

Not gauge. Colour.

I have filled journals with observations, photographs, ideas and experiments. Sometimes a colour combination comes from a landscape, sometimes from flowers, plants, buildings, a journey or simply the walls of a café. I watch, I record, I collect, I experiment and eventually those observations find their way into my knitting.

It is a daily – YES, daily,  continuous process of looking and learning.

I love colour. I love the process of discovering something I hadn’t noticed before. I love the way one observation can lead to another, sometimes years later, and become something entirely unexpected.

Perhaps that is what has remained constant since my time at Nottingham Trent: the curiosity to keep looking, the freedom to experiment and the pleasure of learning something new.

And I still have so much more to discover, and, although my Nottingham Trent story is much bigger than a knitting qualification, and I did start knitting in the 70’s and 80’s, I realise that my turning point in creative development came from my MA and that my ten years of journalling is potentially a defining part of my artistic identity.

I post daily on instagram, if you don’t follow, I am here

all patterns are here and the new one will be out on December 1st

One and Two Cardigans

One and Two Cardigan’s, After Kosuth’s One and Three Chairs.

I finally saved enough money to have a perfect box frame made for the first and only yoke cardigan that I have ever made, way back in 2015.  I was never happy with the results, and hardly wore it.  The project was a learning curve of both knitting/ textile construction, steeking and colour work as well as my first taste of Shetland from my visit to Shetland wool week that year almost 10 years ago. After making it, the cardigan mostly lay dormant in my bottom draw for some years and I have, on many occasions, almost given it away.   

My reason for boxing it, is not sentimental but the fact that, unbeknown to me,  Francoise Delot- Rolando, a French artist,  painted the very same cardigan in her ‘Clothing Fragments Series,’ in late 2021 and in March 2022, she messaged me asking if she could post the image on her Instagram of the little painted mustard cardigan.  I had no idea what it would look like so she sent me images, which absolutely blew me away.  In March 2022, she generously sent me the little exquisite painting, framed in a French biscuit tin. It arrived when I was living for one week, in a borrowed house, six months after returning from Shetland, when I was moving from pillar to post without home or idea of home and I was very lost. Here is the post of that time https://traceydoxey.com/2022/04/12/tin-paint-paper-creative-generosity-and-kindness/

When the painting arrived, it took my breath away, made me feel connected to a woman I have never met, connected to her art, to my knitting, to living and creating work again.  She lifted my spirits in a very difficult time and I have always been grateful for her spontaneous, incredible generosity.   Her gift also elevated my knitted piece from a rugged cardigan in the bottom of a drawer to something to celebrate – a journey – a life. 

When I framed the cardigan, I sent an image to Francoise and she said that ‘there’s something of Joseph Kosuth’s, One and Three Chairs, about it.’  I hadn’t heard of the work, so I, of course, immediately googled it.  

Joseph Kosuth’s ‘One and Three Chairs’ was a conceptual piece from 1965 – the work consisted of a Chair, A Photograph of that Chair, and a printed text definition of the word ‘Chair’

Every time Kosuth, showed the work, he used a chair from the place of exhibition, so the work remained the same but different each time, with only 2 elements of the piece remaining consistent – the text of the definition, and the subject matter – a Chair.  Kosuth’s concern was the difference between a concept and its mode of presentation.  He unified concept and realisation.   The value of the piece was rooted in concept rather than the work’s physical / material properties.   Whereas, I have come about my combined piece the opposite way around – this coupling of the painting of my cardigan and knitted cardigan sits, not as concept – but as materiality and I suppose, women’s work.    One and Three chairs explored the idea of the nature of representation – same chair three ways. And in some ways, my piece could now be ‘One and Two cardigans’ but for me, it also raises the question that I return to repeatedly – the notion of what art is and what it should be.   I placed the two works together and was introduced to an Artist I hadn’t heard of before as reference to a similar representation.

I have long wanted to box frame the cardigan to sit alongside the painting of it but why elevate the old cardigan? It’s rough around the edges, its yoke colours jar with me now and all I see is how I would knit it now, how I would do better.  Let’s be honest, without the beautiful painting, it would not have been a consideration for me to frame this knitted piece.  At one time, I would have framed it as a sentimental reminder of my growth in learning a craft involving my love of Shetland, my first experiments with steeking (knitting in the round then cutting the piece open up the front to create an opening) such love and attention to the hand made buttons, such attention to its making would have at one time been a reason for me to frame it – but not now.  There was no romance in framing this piece, it is ART when placed alongside the painting, it is something more than itself.

I have finally placed it on the hand printed wallpaper that Emma did for me in Shetland – a Peggy Angus print from long ago.   Emma told me that the wallpaper was made to show art – but I always loved the paper too much to cover it – now ‘One and Two Cardigans’ sits on top of a small area of beautiful paper, elevating it even more.  Not everyone would see it this way, but I do.  The small details in life are what I live by, and then life becomes that beautiful small moment.  The small things count.

I invite you to consider this  – is my newly framed old cardigan, when framed and placed next to an oil painting of the very same cardigan, is it art? 

Is there a concept of knitting as art? Or is it a Textile artist’s work?   Kosuth focused on the idea of a chair rather than its physical representation, and now, I too have focused on the idea of The Knitted Cardigan.

Happy new 2025. 

Hoping for a year of creativity and small sharp points of beauty. xxx