Yesterday was an eerily strange day around the lake. The wind was strong and blowing the smoke from the forest fires which are burning up in the La Tuque area towards our area. It seemed that there was a risk that the flames were approaching us closer and closer.

It seemed it might rain so I was anxious to transplant some flowers from one part of the garden to another. I had the camera in my pocket as I worked and was able to capture this particular picture of a 'yellow swallowtail' feeding off the dandelions (there are lots right now!

On the tip of the wings in the back is a well-defined part in bright turquoise blue, outlined in black rather like a stained glass window.

Once again, I am reminded how nature brings a magnificent array of colour combinations which, for the embroiderer, is an endless source of creative food.

Every morning, I walk for at least 45 minutes. I try to remember to pick up the camera before I set out because sometimes, as I walk through the forest, there are some wonderful images that the forest floor offers up. The other morning, I saw a collection of these yellow butterflies, eating voraciously on the path... I think this will be great inspiration for an embroidery. I'm not sure what I will draw from this, but maybe in the coming weeks, I'll share what I think will be an interesting transformation of this fresh scene.

The Bayeux Tapestry - reproduction

Yesterday, while preparing the text for my blog, I was curious to know if Dr. Raymond Dugan continued to give conferences around his magnificent reproduction of the original tapestry. I googled his name and found the link to his website which I would like to share with you.

Here it is: www.dugansbayeuxtapestry.com.

If you have a chance to view his work, and to hear him talk about it, go. It is worth the trip. The schedule of showings of the replica is given in the website.

I then wrote to his contact e.mail and this morning he had replied, from Paris, where he was enjoying a month's vacation It was a very happy reconnection for me.

A horseman of the Bayeux Tapestry

I mentioned on May 14 that I was working on a scene from The Bayeux Tapestry, which is not a tapestry in the contemporary sense, since it is embroidered on a linen ground fabric. I had already embroidered a naval scene 10 years ago. This piece is framed and hangs in our living room, so when I embroider in the evenings, I see it. Since I like the history attached to the original Bayeux, one of the oldest original embroideries that exist today, on exhibition at the Bayeux Museum in France, it is a compelling work to copy.

The Bayeux Tapestry is my personal history, the Battle of Hastings, 1066, the clash of armour between the French and English. I live divided between these two cultures, between the heritage of my family and that of my husband.

On Friday last, as I was driving into town, I listened to an interview with David Gray. I didn't know anything of him before, but I really liked his down-to-earthness. This is a perfect seguay between yesterday's post and today. I spoke about how much the garden is an integral part of my work, but if you think about it, the vocabulary of day to day life often relates to the earth. Think about it: expressions like 'digging down', 'earthy personality', pithy argument, growing up, growing down (I like that one), being rooted, and so many more.

But the words that resonated with me was when he referred to the different style of the music of his new album, 'Draw the Line'. I don't remember his exact quote (I was driving at the time, so I couldn't note it down), but in order to make a sea change, bringing an innovative quality to his music, he had to break away from what was familiar... the terms he used was digging up the earth, turning over the soil, changing the décor with the idea of breaking the patterns of the past to see and feel something new and therefore create a new voice in his music.

He also left me with the feeling that he was a man without pretention, despite his professional success. He has kept a focus on what he feels sincerely. He seems authentic, and 'down to earth'.


Oh, and the primroses by the front step were just beautiful this morning......sitting there, enjoying the sun. I had transplanted them just last summer from another part of the garden. They have doubled in size. Talk about digging up roots and changing environments and how this encourages a new flowering.

The garden

Historically, the embroiderer was inextricably linked to the garden. She would draw most of her inspiration for design and colour from nature. I am of this same ilk. So since my own garden provides some of the basic food for my work, as soon as the weather permits, I spend as much time digging in the earth and marvelling at what shoots up in the spring and early summer despite the harsh winters of Quebec as I do on my work. If I have difficulty finding a particular hue or marriage of colour for my embroidery, I only have to look to the flower beds and find my answer.

Yesterday, I was at the garden store to pick up the annuals for the flower beds
and today was devoted to weeding, cleaning, and preparing the beds for the summer.

The daffodils and narcissus are dying back, but the muscari is up along with the odd tulip that survived the ravages of the squirrels last fall and the creeping phlox along the border of the 'birthday garden' is in flower, a bright shot of pink to please the eye.

I love the way the sun shines on the petals and the play of light on the colours... I try to capture this in silks or cottons on linen. This is the challenge. It is the most difficult thing to achieve with silk, but it is possible.

In my first blog a few days ago, I spoke of the three projects I was working on simultaneously. Here is the pattern (from Valerie LeJeune: 'Repertoire des Frises' Ed: Mango Pratique) of the cross stitch project which has its challenge in the thread I am using, a rayon thread which I have to split in order to work the 36 ct. linen ground.
I am currently doing the outer frame, which I call the 'cherry border'.

Despite the sometime frustrations of counting correctly, I love the delicacy of the effect of the ice blue rayon thread on the optic white even weave linen and the contrast of the darker blue rayon for the cherries. It looks like a delicate pearlized lace in the fabric, fresh and feminine.

The fact also that I don't have to think about where to put the needle, since the fabric guides the cross stitcher in her work, it makes a very restful activity.

I am not very far along in my work, but here is the first picture of my progress.

Gifts

In reference to my earlier post, I wonder if it is because the embroiderer needs very little capital to get started.. a needle, a little thread, a form, a piece of fabric, a few stitches in her repertoire and she is on her way, that this makes her less of an artist.

But the key here and the distinction between an activity which gives us pleasure and that which can be deemed 'art', is in the choice and marriage of all these elements. It's whether in the execution of the technique in conjunction with the choice of colours, the type of fibres and the form to be interpreted, some other element is created, something which makes the sum of the parts greater than the parts separately.... that indescribable element which expresses the artist's voice and appeals to the inner voice of the viewer. The gift of the embroiderer, the talent, in itself is a gift to the viewer in the form of the enrichment for having experienced the work of the artist.

I have been practicing my art all my life but have always struggled with the idea of it being an art form or a leisure time activity, thereby rendering it more a hobby. So the quote of William Morris in my blog of yesterday buttressed my feeling that I am truly an 'artist'. And I should stop doubting this.

What I do comes from a place where I feel whole.

I am an artist because I express my own truth, who I am, through my art. I embroider often and with joy. Therefore it is real.

'When love and skill come together, expect a masterpiece'. John Ruskin, English Philosopher 19th century

I read this quote, found in a book about William Morris, a book given to me one Christmas by my son. The words resonated strongly.

'Real art is the expression by man of his pleasure in labour. I do not believe he can be happy in his labour without expressing that happiness; and especially is this so when he is at work on anything in which he specially excels' quote from 'The art of the people' 1879

I believe this.

Yesterday was one of those rare days when I had a little chance to actually embroider but instead visited a friend with whom I had worked with in the studio and therefore spent a little time talking about our common interest.

So this morning I was anxious to organize myself to get back to my ongoing projects. But the view from my studio is so beautiful and a cool breeze is blowing the black flies away from the garden, I am compelled to go dig in the earth and prepare the beds for plantings.

The garden provides ongoing inspiration to my work since there is nothing more beautiful than the colour combinations shown through nature. Also, the repetitive movements of gardening are very similar to those of embroidery and the satisfaction is often the same.

The projects will wait until the heat of the day brings the flies back to nibble at my skin.

I start this diary to share how embroidery is such an integral part of my day and therefore my life. I tend to have several projects on the go simultaneously. Today, I am working on:
- a small reproduction of a scene from the Bayeux Tapestry (at 50% of the original design), a drawing I developed from David Wilson's book 'The Bayeux Tapestry' printed by Knopf in 1985.
- a very difficult, detailed embroidery in 90 denier Piper's silk of an 18th century leaf form, in bright greens, blues and yellows.
- a wonderfully mechanical cross stitch design of a picture frame taken from Valérie Lejeune's book entitled 'Répertoire des Frises', a collection of motifs garnered from pattern books dating back more than 100 years.

The cross stitch project is challenging by virtue of the fine even weave linen I am using as the ground fabric and a split rayon thread. But as long as I count correctly, this embroidery piece is a restful exercise. Contrary to this work, the 18th century leaf form gives me lots of technical challenges because of the extreme fineness of the thread, the multitude of different shapes to be interpreted and the stitches used i.e. needlepainting, satin stitch. Precision is the order of the day. As for the Bayeux Tapestry project, it has been sitting on my work table for a while. It calls for yet again different embroidery techniques.

All together, the fingers are given great exercise and each project grows just a little more each day. This is very satisfying.