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The trials and tribulations of
An independent designer.

The Balcony

8/6/2019

2 Comments

 
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 think it’s finally safe to call this month’s blog “The Balcony” and not “The Garden” 4. I’d only ever meant to write one piece about gardens but it seems there was more to say about a journey that has turned the most negative space, into the most positive. 
 
However, I’m going to start by answering the question posed at the end of my last blog.
 
“why? In a green and white planting scheme, I’ve chosen to introduce Mediterranean blue"
 
Well… It’s because of my Agapanthus of course; they were always going to be that mesmerizing blue.
 
I discovered, as I arrived here that I wasn’t allowed to keep pots outside my new front door so they were deposited here by; what I now believe to have been, 3 quite tipsy removal men. These chirpy men; Bazza, Gary and a bloke with no name dropped, knocked and chipped just about everything but somehow this smuggled pot survived them and made it in alive. it’s heavy though, so I was never going to shift it.  At the time, this was a stressful day, watching them dismantling a 27-year existence at one end, then piling it in a heap at the other, like the contents of Tutankhamun’s tomb. Now? Looking back, I think there’s probably a sitcom in there somewhere.
 
As it turned out, apart from pots at the front door, there’s quite a lot I’m not supposed to do here. I’m not supposed to hang pictures, we’re not supposed to keep our shoes on beyond the threshold and I’m not supposed to grow things against or along any outside walls unless there is an existing structure. To get around this, I’ve created a spider’s web of garden string to guide things away from said walls…but I still feel the eyes of the “pot police” burning, watching; waiting, while my everlasting sweet pea travels ever closer towards the edge of its brick confines; they’re ready to pounce when the first falling bloom becomes a health and safety hazard for anyone passing below. I see the chilling, Coroner’s report now “Death by Sweet Pea”.   I’m gorilla growing a cucumber by the front door and nobody’s noticed. I’m also growing some emerald green mint, which is busy tumbling from one of the hanging baskets, because, I always think it’s important to include at least two ingredients for a Primms in your planting scheme.

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​I’m genuinely over the moon with how this balcony is progressing. Things have grown higher, further, thicker and greener, than first expected, and everything has produced far more flowers than I could ever have hoped for. A good example of this is the rose. Having said last month that my expectations about how far it would grow had been “too optimistic” …this month, I can say I wasn’t optimistic enough. I have roses! Lots of them, and, it’s busy joining up with the hanging basket above.
 
What I can’t share with you of course, are the wonderful scents that waft in every time I open the door or a window. In turn, these aromas have attracted a whole range of fragile little insects, by day bees and butterflies, in the warm, half-light of evening, ephemeral moths, attracted by the Jasmin; to slightly miss quote from the book of Kevin Costner,
 
“If you build it they will come”.
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Also, the constant and gentle movement as a passing breeze brushes through everything, momentarily Lifting these visiting insects from their work, until such time as they can safely land. I’m constantly surprised at how plants seem able to spread kinetic energy far beyond the physical space they occupy. In the end gardening is a form of alchemy; you throw the ingredients together imagining the results then, if you are lucky, there is a moment when they become more than their sum parts and create something you could never have imagined. But this intangible kinetic energy has brought me something more; it has brought me people: neighbours who, until now were strangers stop to say hello and comment on the flowers. It has brought me closer to existing friends and reunited me with old ones. Opened up new vistas I could never have envisaged and have yet to explore, and has softened the edges of a life made temporarily sharp. Plants will do that.
​Lessons? Yes some:
 
I shouldn’t get involved with carpentry.
 
I’m too lazy for topiary.
 
And looking back, I probably shouldn’t have put the lavender through this process. It’s supposed to be living in a sun-drenched field in province, not squidged into a gloomy corridor. It’s made a valiant effort, shooting out some fragile, white wands but inside you can see it’s bitter. At the end of the summer I will release it into the walled garden where it can grow near the bees.
 
Failures?
 
Never any failures in gardening, only learning curves and happy happenstance.
A flash hail storm caught the exposed edge of the planter demolishing a couple of tender plants, but that’s not a failure… that’s just gardening.

Suppliers.

Jazmin,
Passion flower,
Mixed planting and contents of hanging baskets
https://www.aylettnurseries.co.uk/
 
Hosta and ferns
https://www.bowdenhostas.com/categories/Ferns/

White climbing Rose
Claire Austin
www.davidaustinroses.co.uk

Mediterranean Tiles: Seville Persian Blue.
Porcelain Super Store.
https://www.porcelainsuperstore.co.uk/seville-persian-blue.html

Antique wooden panel,
Nest Interiors
instagram@nestinteriors1

Bistro Set,
"Animal Dave" St Albans Market.
(best not to ask)

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2 Comments

The Garden; part 3

6/5/2019

2 Comments

 
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​o, last month I went to Chelsea flower show…
 
It coincides with a friend’s birthday and attending has become a bit of a tradition. Over the years we’ve developed a well-oiled routine which consists of tea, and or coffee, cake, plants, Pimms, then more plants and on until they shut the gates and we float out. This year it was just as fantastical; crackling with colour, dazzling fashion, scarlet Chelsea Pensioners, and that subliminal, background, hum of insects taking advantage of the sudden appearance of all those flowers, oblivious to the riotous circus that accompanies them. All set against an avenue of huge, plane trees, full of chattering parakeet, swaying and whispering in the breeze; seemingly breathing in and out like huge lungs, distributing their silent, barbed, seeds down onto a sea of sneezing and coughing people. So, just as bonkers, just as fragrant; just as magical.
 
In previous years, I would have had a long shopping list, more often than not, yet another impossibly blue Delphinium from Blackmore & Langdon, which, upon receipt, I would instantly feed to the slugs. And nearly always, a Hosta from Bowden’s nursery… because, you just can’t have enough of those.  This year I found myself on their stand looking at some ferns and before I knew it, money was changing hands and plants were ordered, this time, curtesy of my friend. Whilst we were taking a break; soaking up the ambiance, I found myself wondering, what on earth it is about gardening that draws us all there year after year?  Why are we so passionate about plants? and it can’t just be about the Pimms, although, I’m sure thaathelptzsz. I suppose like many things; the answer is slightly different for every person. I grew up gardening with my dad and it’s something I’ve always done. I didn’t think about it much when I had a garden, but now I’m living in a flat; suspended; separated from the ground, the desire to re-connect with it has become all consuming. My son keeps saying to me, as he catches me smuggling just one more pot onto the balcony, “Mum please don’t spend any more money on plants, we really can’t afford it at the moment” He’s right of course; isn’t it annoying when your child is more grown up than you? I try hard to explain to him why it’s important, but I’m failing, I’m not sure I really know myself. So, I thought I would try and explain it here and then maybe he will read it one day, or maybe he won’t because, it’s my job to show understanding and listen to him, and his job? is to do the absolute opposite; and that’s how it should be… but for what it’s worth? here goes:
 
I often feel that people emit a kind of energy, "frequency" if you will. You will meet someone and you might say, “We’re on the same wave length”, another will, “give you a bad feeling” and I think the same is true of things and places. Some places make you feel “At peace” others jar and fill you with unease. But if you’re lucky, maybe once in a life time, you will find a place that resonates at the same frequency as you, and you cancel each other out; then? there is silence; ground zero. Such a place was my garden.
 
 Now my world is often full of clatter and noise, the cacophony of other peoples’ lives but while I’m working around plants, I can bring this down to a dull hum. Of course, I’m privileged, really privileged, to still have access to this greater environment, and it wraps itself around me like an old familiar coat. But each day when I leave, I must hang it at the gate, often forgetting, it’s no longer mine…and the noise begins. 

​And that’s it really, for me? Gardening brings calm. Growing things grounds you and resets your perspective when there is none to be had. I think it’s also humbling to be part of something that’s far bigger than you. In a way, gardeners are horticultural Time Lords, reaching into the future, then watching while the future comes to them. Bringing plants to our balcony is, for now anyway, fulfilling this need.
 
So how is that balcony?
 
Well, as far as the planting has gone, it’s early days, but on the whole, I’m pleased with the results. Conscious of the weight distribution, I’ve kept the planting to the edges and corners, leaving space for an extreeemely small table and chairs; which I’m saving up for. I’ve discovered that it’s getting more sun than I was expecting, and have expanded the planting a little to take advantage of this. I estimate that by the summer equinox, on 21st June, the sun will be on 1/2 of it for about 6 hours a day. And on this day, table or no table, we must rush out and spend all day eating creams teas and/or drinking champagne because, on the 22nd? It’s all downhill. In hindsight, I was perhaps a little optimistic about how far the rose would grow in a season, but have planted a couple of things that should fill the gaps. I was also wildly optimistic about my carpentry skills; I should never get involved with carpentry, it never ends well. I’d seen a planting tower in a garden centre, but it was heavy and I couldn’t justify the cost, so thought, as I often do...” I will make one, how hard can that be”? I asked someone If they would cut me 3 small shelves but, misunderstanding their purpose, he cut them out of MDF...the single, most absorbent substance known to mankind and, if nailed into horizontally…has the architectural properties of a bag of dust. I spent days priming, undercoating and painting them so they would be able to cope with moister, but I needn’t have worried because, the first time I put a pot on them one of the legs developed a nasty bow; they are going to give up waaay before the MDF has a chance to disintegrate. I’ve given my drawings to a real carpenter now.  I’ve also decided that the corner where the planting tower is/will be, is very dark. so, added a handful of Mediterranean tiles. This has given the area a visual lift, it also plays with perspective a little, squaring what is, in the end, a deep, narrow, space. I’ve complimented this by using blue and white Spode plates underneath the pots. I’ve got to be honest, it’s beginning to look like the Isle of Capri in that corner.

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​So, ask me “why”? In a green and white planting scheme, I’ve chosen to introduce Mediterranean blue...go on ask me…. I’m not going to tell you, you’ll have to wait until next month.
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Early days yet...

​​Frivolous Ferns:
(On order) Bowden’s Nursery.
These will replace the hostas as
they will require more space to flower.
https://www.bowdenhostas.com/categories/Ferns/
 
 
Mediterranean Tiles: Seville Persian Blue.
Porcelain Super Store.
https://www.porcelainsuperstore.co.uk/seville-persian-blue.html
 
 
Pots/Hanging Baskets:
I’m having to be mindful of weight here, but they are a mixture of my own, pots gifted to me from the Victorian glass house at work, and this company.
https://www.woodlodge.co.uk/catalogue.aspx?section=Heritage
Available from most garden centres, but I bought them, the hanging baskets, and the mixed planting, from Aylett’s Nursey.
https://www.aylettnurseries.co.uk/product-category/pots-planters
 
 
Impossibly blue Delphiniums:
Blackmore & Langdon’s
I haven’t got any of these, but you have to take a look.
https://blackmore-langdon.com/category/Delphiniums
 
 
Spode plates and any mixed china:
Charity shops and far, far too much time on ebay. 
2 Comments

The Garden. 2

5/9/2019

1 Comment

 
 
If you’ve just stumbled on this blog, you might have to scroll down to the last entry, otherwise this one will make absolutely no sense.
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​o, it turns out, you can remove the gardener from the garden, but you can’t take the garden, out of the gardener. As spring moves forward, the urge to plant, prune and deadhead things becomes overwhelming and I’ve decided the best way around this? is to cram as many plants as possible onto the tiny balcony attached to my flat, but it’s going to need quite a bit of planning.
 
My first instinct would be to plant something that’s familiar and recreate elements from my lost garden however, over the last few weeks I’ve come to realize, like so many gardens, some of its’ magic lies in its’ context. Set within a tiny estate village, dotted with ancient wood land, then land locked in a sea of fields and meadows, the air was always full of birdsong and thick with aromas. Jewel like Wall flowers in early Spring, clouds of scented bluebells in May, and then in quick succession, avenues of blousy rhododendron and woodbine. In summer, garden honeysuckle, hot, drying hay and roses, always roses.  A place for all the senses, slightly out of time with the world, but in time with me. I loved these heady scents when I lived there…they’re stronger now I’ve left.
 
So, if not my old garden, what?  A starting point could be the plants that came with me, which I love. But, these are plants whose roots were laid down in another time, it’s  important now to plant something that puts down roots in this one, and so, as on so many occasions I’ve turned to the rose. I ordered a beautiful, white scented variety from David Austin Roses, over time this should slowly wrap itself around the edge of the balcony…the inside? well that’s a blank page, full of endless possibilities. I could recreate the gardens of Versailles, or maybe the breath-taking parterre at Hampton court, even one of the sunken, tudor gardens. As I’m at altitude I could attempt an Italian garden… but then I would need statues, there would have to be statues. I’m joking of course, the magic of these gardens lies in their relationship to their buildings, in their vastness and spectacular vistas; even I know I can’t create anything that requires a vista…not even a vis., and the only relationship my balcony has with its building, is that it is so close... It’s almost inside. But, I think it’s still ok to dream big, and ok to pinch an element here, take inspiration there, that’s what all gardeners do.
 
In the end, It was while I was looking at my newly arrived rose, willing it to shoot, that it came to me, I will evoke the spirit of Vita Sackville-West, by recreating her famous white garden at Sissinghurst Castle.  The real artistry of this garden, lies in the rich variety of greens and foliage, these provide a canvas for those lovely white blooms. and that’s something anyone can create. Having a palette of different greens and textures can give the illusion of space, and white planting brings light to darker more shaded areas, heaven knows I’m going to need both of these tricks on, at best, an optimistic 4 x 6’ balcony, which I’m not 100% sure will ever get the summer sun. But I know what you are thinking…” Where will the hedges go”?... No?... well anyway, I don’t think it really matters whether you are choosing plants for a garden or a window box, the principles are the same. Choose plants that suit the environment, give them good soil, feed them and give them water and in theory? they should thrive. If you don’t have room for hedges, just suggest it by adding a pot planted with box of some other small leaved plant.
 
 
So, here we are, by harnessing Tardis technology, I have produced a planting plan which should bring scent and flowers for me and the insects way into late summer, and, as it’s Chelsea month… a plant list and supplier’s links below.


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Jasmine:
I don’t think this is going to get much sun, so it may not flower,
but it will be a lovely shade of green in the summer, and rusty red in autumn /winter.
 
White Lavender:
Heavenly angel
 
Hostas:
Varieties unknown, but they were grown by
      https://www.bowdenhostas.com/categories/Hostas/
who also supply ferns and bamboo.
 
Rose:
 Claire Austin
from
www.davidaustinroses.co.uk
 
Agapanthus:
 grown from seed, but also available from              https://www.woottensplants.com/plant-shop-category/plantlist/agapanthus/
 
 
Mixed planting and box:

Most good garden centres will also sell the above and can provide you with an excellent variety of plants for hanging baskets and pots, but I think it’s worth choosing somewhere that is also a nursery. I’m lucky to have several garden centres locally but, for what it’s worth, my preferred one is Aylett’s Nursery. They are a family firm and are specialists in growing Dahlia, which has earned them many Chelsea golds over the years.
 
https://www.aylettnurseries.co.uk/
 
And finally:
Of course…any other plant I can cram in the gaps.
Ive so got this!
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1 Comment

The Garden.

4/9/2019

0 Comments

 
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​sn’t it strange how some things lead to other things?
 
I like to think that I’ve had a dynamic master plan all these years that will take me straight from A to B, and I always start out with that intention, but of course life’s not like that, is it? Well mine never seems to be, it’s more like being stuck in a pin ball machine, pinging off in all sorts or directions, some high scoring, others not so, proving over and over, that it’s never about the destination and all about the journey.
 
You’ll know if you’ve read any of my other blogs that, like a skylark, my life is governed by the season, by my garden, and what my bees are up to. I’ve spent 19 years, planting fruit trees, vegetable patches and herbaceous borders, planning what will be flowering this year and what will be there next, and as every tree and plant took root, so too did I. But, in the last 6 months, almost without warning, I’ve had to leave my beautiful garden behind. Of course, in comparison to world events it’s of no consequence, but on a personal level? It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, knowing that now, someone else will be enjoying the warm, Spring sun in the shade of a tree that I planted and witnessing the blooming of flowers that I chose to grow.
 
All great artist will teach you, that if you truly want to capture the essence of your subject, you must make your darks dark and you lights, light, only then can you convey the volume, depth and emotion in your image. And I suppose life’s a little like that. In order to appreciate the light, you must first have shade. And light, I’ve discovered, can take on a rich variety of colours and forms. This I have found in my amazing friends and neighbours, none more so than one such neighbour, whose family occupies a grand old house near to my old home, and who loaned me a corner of a walled garden to house one of my displaced hives then, went on to welcome me into her environment, providing me with a safe place to work from and, access to the most extra ordinary of worlds.
 
Before I left, I managed to take 3 plants: A scented, climbing rose, a pot of agapanthus, grown from seeds given to me by the beekeeper at Tresco Botanical Gardens, and some Iris which belonged to my Dad, given to him by his Mum, my Nan who, I rather think, “acquired” them from Saville Gardens in Windsor around the 1920s... she always maintained, “The King hadn’t missed them”. In keeping with their Royal heritage, the Iris are destined for pots in the walled garden. The other two are holding their collective breaths on the tiniest of balconies, all of us refugees from another life, waiting for the day when we are reunited on more permanent ground.
 
But for now? my bees and I work amongst the whispers of Victorian gardeners, beneath fruit trees that have seen a 100 Springs. Each day I walk down corridors, as shadows of scullery and lady’s maids brush against me while they go about their timeless tasks; and on, into music rooms where Edwardian ladies, in clouds of gossamer, tulle, swirl past to music barely heard between my heartbeats. Blink and they evaporate, absorbed by the present…but I fancy, when I’m gone, they dance on. This beautiful old house has seen many families, and generations, all adding a little to its depth, to its story, ever evolving, but somehow always the same. And I find it kind of comforting, looking through its’ bleary glass, onto a courtyard, where once grand carriage stood, knowing that over time, 100s of people would have witnessed the same scene.  And now, thanks to this generosity of spirit, I am, for while at least, part of the laminate history of this unique existence.


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Silk Flowers

2/22/2019

1 Comment

 
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f you’ve ever looked at my Instagram account, it won’t have taken you long to realize that I’ve got a little bit of a grass hopper mind. As well as all my work, hobbies and interests, I’m often developing several things at the same time, and this trait has earned me the nickname of “La La”. However, every now and then, I will go waaay off-piste and end up doing something I hadn’t intended, and these silk flowers are a good example of this.
 
I’d started by making a single silk rose for a Christmas present. Innocent enough you may think, but in order to do this, I made the huge mistake of opening my trunk of silk scraps, left over from making costume through the years. So dangerous is the opening of this box, that it’s stored way up high up in a cupboard so it’s difficult to get at…but “get at it” I did… and before I knew it, a single rose had turned into several, and several, a bouquet…a necklace, or three, and then finally these heraldic, rose, brooches. And that’s something else it won’t take you long to spot on my Instagram feed, or this blog page come to that… I quite like a bit of heraldry. It’s a theme I return to time and time again and it never takes me long to find an excuse to use it.
​I’ve always been especially drawn to these iconic flowers, rambling across medieval, manuscripts, lovingly embroidered on ancient pennants and tunics and carved into our most precious historic buildings and palaces. Over time, these single red and white roses, used so often amongst the emblems of the Plantagenet, have come to symbolise the struggles between this most dysfunctional of families. The elegant white rose in particular made so famous in recent years by the discovery of the remains of King Richard III under a car park in Leicester. And, although the Tudor rose was first created by that master of spin and propaganda, Henry VII, you only have to look at it, to evoke the image of his larger than life son, Henry VIII and his many misfortunate wives.

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I say “finally these heraldic rose brooches” … but the box hasn’t gone back yet, and I’m busy working on two more necklaces with anemone and nasturtium. And of course, despite having silk in every colour under the sun, I never do quite have the right shade for the job at hand so end up buying “just a little bit” more. Whenever the time comes to put that box back, it always has slightly more in it than when I took it down. Strange how that happens.!
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Heraldry and the English Civil War

8/5/2018

1 Comment

 
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​o, I’ve been thinking about heraldry…as you do.
I’m always drawn to it, it really is the most perfect example of “branding” through iconology that has ever existed.
 
After finishing my Wars of the Roses scarf. I’d thought that I’d like to create a scarf using the flags and banners from the English Civil War. I had this grand idea that I would use the standards from each army and advance them from either end of the design finally meeting in a swirl of colour and heraldry in the centre. As always, what seemed like a good idea, now requires a great deal of meticulous research.
 
 
Wars, of any age, are complex and rarely definitive, so if you wanted to tell a story about the individuals it becomes even more complex because, combatants who start the war on one side, sometimes end up on the other; some hedge their bets until the last moment and fathers may fight for one cause, whilst their son will support another. This was particularly true of the English Civil War, so pinning a particular family name down to one flag is highly problematic, also, when a war lasts for many years, regiments can be amalgamated or disbanded. Add to this the mists of time; differences of historical opinion and the image equivalent of Chinese whispers, and what you have is a minefield of potential misinformation on a subject that many people are absolutely passionate about.

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​I faced a similar minefield whilst researching the heraldry from the Wars of the Roses, when I’d hit a brick wall and needed some verification on a couple of items. Someone recommended I contact the “College of Arms”, a place I’d hadn’t given much thought to before. I’ve thought about it a lot since because, time moves differently at the College of Arms.
 
I contacted them from the 21st century, via an on-line form, but they replied from the 1400s with a hand-written letter, delivered, I fancy, attached to an arrow, shot by a knight, seated on top of a horse. The letter said that the answer was, “In the negative” they could not help. In the end however, I wore them down and a short correspondence ensued. In fact, they ended up being of great help. I hadn’t realised at the time, that unlike so many other languages, the language of heraldry is absolute, and infinitely beautiful.
 
 
Some weeks later I was privileged to get access to the garter stalls in St George’s Chapel, Windsor, and as I clambered around, I realised that the whole narrative of the Wars of the Roses was right in front of me, played out in heraldry. As these ancient arms began to half and quarter, you could see the displays of greedy acquisition from noble families as they devoured others’ arms, lands and titles, either through marriage or conquest. Like most conflicts, in the end it was consume, or be consumed.
 
 
It dawned on me then, that even though the college itself was divided by the Civil War, that it is the constant, not the Knights, Aristocracy, or even Kings, whose fortunes ebb and flow. And the Heralds, dressed in their ancient tabards, like playing cards from Alice in wonderland, are there, documenting it all. They, and their predecessors are the spine to which our society’s genealogy is attached. They have, from the very beginning, stood apart, unseen, and without comment, meticulously documenting in imagery, our whole nations genetic family tree. They have, without a single word written the loudest history of our island, for those who would care to see. And there they are still, in our world, but not of it. like heraldic “Doctor who’s”, able to travel back to a fixed point in time with the turn of a parchment page. And I had travelled with them for a short while.
 
 
Of course, although they followed the main rules of heraldry, the insignia and flags of the civil war were not always "heraldic", so I wonder to myself why I just couldn’t whack a few banners in a row and be done with it? But I can’t… there is a story to be told, and these affiliations still provoke passionate responses, like all flags, they remain powerful and emotive. Remembering always, that under these colourful standards, whipping in the winds of history, lives were lost and families torn apart; respect is due.
 
 
I would like to have dedicate this blog to Mr Robert Noel, the Lancaster Herald, but I don’t believe the World Wide Web, reaches past the front door of the College of Arms, so there’d really be no point.
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​Wars of the Roses scarf
For more information on the English Civil War:
English Civil War Society
Sealed Knot
For information on Civil War Battle Fields:
Battle Fields Trust
1 Comment

Steampunk

7/17/2018

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​ver the last few days, I’ve posted some images of my Steampunk design, and a few people have asked me what “SteamPunk” is? So here is a brief background, and some further ramblings on the subject.

Born as a direct reaction to “Cyber Punk”, “Steam Punk” gives us a retrospective view of the future. Taking its inspiration from Victorian writers such as Jules Verne this genre projects itself forward into a fantasy future where technology, as we know it, has never existed. Just like H. G. Wells’ “Time Machine” we enter a Victorianesque world pre-occupied with time travel and exploration, where everyday objects are driven mechanically, powered by the rhythmic click and whir of brass cogs.
 
I was brought up watching the Jules Verne films such as “The Time Machine” and “20.000 Leagues under the Sea”, and I’ve always felt there was something seductive about these evocative, Victorian worlds, upholstered in velvet and filled with the endless possibilities of clockwork. So, it seems to me that “Steampunk” is just an extension of these imaginary worlds. But actually, in recent years, for me, these imaginary worlds have become more substantial and tangible and the concepts of wheels within wheels, and the rhythmic movement of time easier to imagine. Because, for the past 16 years, I’ve been keeping honey bees, and there is nothing on the planet that will ground you more, or connects you to the endlessly turning of the seasons, than a bee.
 
I’m now privileged to be able to mentor new beekeepers and one of the first things I say to them is that, “To become a good beekeeper, you must first become a good bee”. These tiny industrious insects, live in complete darkness, communicating by touch, sound and scent. They exist on a microscopic level and are so hard wired to their environment that they are reacting and adapting to it before we’ve even realised the wind has changed, and to truly understand them, you need to first understand the seasons, the atmosphere, weather systems, etc. and then how these all effect the flowers, trees and crops.
 
After a few seasons of doing this you quickly come to realize that there are far greater natural, forces at work here, far bigger and older than the human race. Relentless forces, marching on in never ending circles, driven by lunar rotations and on into the universe, ever revolving, ever spinning, always ticking. And if the universe were driven by clockwork, then these insects and bees are an integral and essential cog in this greater revolving machine, and it’s humbling then, to finally understand, that the human race… is not.
 
Of course, time and clocks are human concepts, but these, natural, seasonal cycles are clock like, so it’s not such a leap of faith, for an active imagination, to then picture it all driven by celestial cogs. whirring and turning, and my “Steam punk” design is an imagining of this universe, full of maps, and gears, and scurrying clockwork jewel beetles feeding on brass and amber flowers.
 
I’m now working on another design which explores these changing seasons, and the cycles of my bees. I thought it would be nice idea, to photograph the plants around my apiary as the seasons moved on, and then to use these in the design, but it’s turned out to be a lengthier and more involved task that I first thought… I’m still working on it. Sometimes I’ve wondered why I’ve given myself such a lengthy project, when all that will happen is someone will roll up the scarf, wrap it around their neck and never know that it pictures a year in the life of my wonderful bees. But then I think…I will know…and now, of course…so do you!.

Steampunk Scarf
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St Albans new Museum+Gallery

6/27/2018

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originally designed this scarf to help raise funds for the restoration work taking place on the St Albans Old Town Hall. This magnificent Regency building, in the centre of St Albans, was undergoing a major restoration project to turn it into a world class heritage venue. Over the last two years a team from Willmott Dixon carefully undertook this mammoth task, which included, excavated a basement, by hand, one bucket at a time, and adding galleries and external glass workways and the restoration of the fabulous function rooms.
 
The finished, gleaming building finally reopened to the public on 8th June, providing galleries, function rooms, a wonderful gift shop and the chance to have coffee in the Victorian Courtroom Cafe. Its new galleries are equipped to be able to receive exhibitions from other national museums.
 
 I am absolutely tickled pink to have my original scarf for sale in the new gift shop and to have collaborated with the Museum team and British Museum to create a range of products also based on my design, and hugely proud to see it all on display in the shop.

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If you get a chance to visit this amazing new museum, don’t pass it up I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.

St Albans Museum Scarf

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Armouries

10/16/2017

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 first became aware of the decoration and engraving on suits of armour, when I created a puzzle for an education pack, designed for use in the White Tower at the Tower of London. This puzzle was based on a beautiful suit and horse set belonging to Henry VIII.   I was fascinated by the elegance and intricacy of the craftsmanship used to decorate what was essentially an item created for conflict. I often remembered these beautiful objects and so when I began designing scarves, I approached the Royal Armouries with a view to incorporating them into one of my designs. I also liked the idea of taking something so solid and substantial and turning it into something delicate.
I originally viewed hundreds of exquisite items in the Armouries’ collection but finally narrowed it down to about 10 and this scarf is the result of 3 of the items....
Because of the importance and value of the objects the Royal armouries provided the original images as photographs.  I then worked on digitally, cutting away the unwanted areas and working on the clarity and finish that I wanted. I then laid the finished “fretwork” design onto a brass background which helped to emphasize the metallic finish of the original objects . It took almost 3 weeks and the creation of over 120 images to come up with the final version.


.The main decoration is from object:
iii.1358.  Back plate and tassettes  1620 in the War Gallery Leeds.

Other decoration taken from:
Object vi.6 Horse Armour given to Henry viii by Maximillion I, decorated by Paul Van Vreland and displayed in the Tournament Gallery at Leeds.
Object vi.4  from the Silvered and Engraved armour  belonging to Henry VIII and displayed on the horse armour in the White Tower, Tower of London. (I haven’t included the provenance of this item, because I believe it has recently changed)
 

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I also worked on a second design which will go into production next year sometime.


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Silver Screen

6/21/2017

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n 1890 Thomas Edison unveiled a new invention he had called the “Vita phone”. Although we would not have recognized it at the time, this was to be the birth of the modern movie industry. By the 1920s men like artistic, genius George Mileus and pioneers like W. D. Griffiths had transformed this medium from arcade novelty  to art form. Not until the invention of the internet would the world experience anything so revolutionary. These early films would come to define a entire period in time; its aspirations, art, architecture and fashion, all encompassed by an era of icons which would come to be known collectively as, “Silver Screen”

We often talk today of “Icons”, but never was this term so apt than when used to describe these early stars. This was to become the age of the first “Global Celebrities” and no one personified this status more than the occupants of this new design. In Greta Garbo, we see the first enigma, in Clara Bow, the first Sex symbol, and Rudolph Valentino, the very first screen idle . When Rudolph died prematurely in 1926, at the age of 31, his worldwide fans were inconsolable. Over 100,000 mourners came to view his coffin, and there were reports his untimely death had prompted several suicides. In an attempt to control the overwhelming, crowds, two funerals were organised, one in New York, the other in California. It’s hard to imagine any modern “celebrities” having such an effect.

Of course to truly understand the impact of these early films, you must view them in the context of their age. This was a post-war world in the grips of a depression. Only 41 years had elapsed since Alexandra Bell had first called his assistant on the telephone, and 35 since Marconi had invented the radio. And, unbelievably only 12 years since Henry Ford produced the first production car. The films got their name from the silver paint theatre owners used  to aid reflection, but this paint also served to give the films a luminescent and ethereal quality.  Little wonder then, that when an army of kohl- eyed beauties swirled across these luminous, screens in a blizzard of bleary sequins, that the audiences were so utterly captivated.

It had never been my intention to create a design using these photographs. I’d been working with the fabulous Tudor portraits and had gone back up to the gallery to do some more research. Just by chance I’d popped into the Gallery cafe to have a cup of tea and had sat down under a framed, black and white portrait of the silent movie star, Lillian Gish. I was drawn by the portraits’ ethereal quality and the softness of the photographers’ lens. Anyway I carried on with my trip around the gallery, but I just couldn’t get this image out of my head. By the time I had left that morning, the new design was already forming, so when I discovered the gallery had been bequeathed a large collection of these images, it didn’t take much persuasion to work with them.
I’m extremely proud to have collaborated with the National Portrait Gallery on this design. The images are taken form a collection of photographs acquired by the Gallery in 2010 when Patrick O’Conner bequeathed his collection of 780 music hall, theatre and film stars.


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Pulp Scifi and the value of "Original"

5/12/2017

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 found these amazing covers from the 1930s – 40s, in the Mary Evans Picture Archive. I had gone looking for images from WW1 and one of them had caught my eye. I eventually sorted through around 300 of them to arrive at the final 8. At first I was drawn by their spectacular colour, but I also became captivated by their bonkers text, which I couldn’t help incorporating into the end design.  They were originally painted for a publication called, “Amazing Stories” and are from the heyday of “Pulp Sci fi”, the 1930s and the 1940s. The artwork is attributed to the staff illustrator at this time, Frank R Paul.

Although today we might think of the word “Pulp” to describe something of little merit, In the 30s and 40s these magazines were the breeding grounds for heavy weight writer such as Arthur C. Clark, Isaac Azimov, Edgar Rice Burrows and H.G. Wells.
In his article “the golden age of Pulp Fiction”, the author Mike Ashley uses the word “ephemeral” to describe the quality of the product, but it is also a perfect word to describe these covers. Never intended to be taken too seriously, they are of their time; a snap shot into a pre space age, and for the most, a pre war period in history. Viewed from their perspective, the artist lets us glimpse a Technicolor world full of wonder, and infinite possibilities.
Of course post space age we know the universe to be constructed of base minerals and swirling gases, and although it can be cataclysmic, it is also cold and silent. It is still a place of infinite beauty, but just not quite so Technicolor, and I can’t help feeling just a little sense of loss knowing that, in fact, “Ganymede” isn’t populated by “cat like people who ride about on lizards”.

The value of Original
I've spent a large amount of my working life in museums, archives and galleries and it never ceases to amaze me what you can find there. These days we all take for granted the ease and speed with which information reaches us, and I’m no different. We are all so used to googling images on demand that it’s easy to forget that, “somewhere”, there is an original that “someone” is looking after for us.  It could be argued that the digital age makes images and information available to the masses, and of course this is undeniable, but the danger of the reproduction, is that is can somehow devalue the original. There is no substitute for actually making the effort to see an object in the flesh. It‘s only when you occupy the same physical proximity as its’ creator that you begin to understand the object. From this view point you can see how the brush strokes are formed, or how the writer of a medieval, manuscript  got board and doodled in the margin. Anyone can listen to a piece of Mozart and enjoy it, but if you get a chance to see one of his original, hand written, manuscript s, held in the British Library, you can see the scrawled, notes almost tumble over each other on their way to the page, and then you can truly understand how driven he was.
I suppose my point is this: It’s use them or lose them...Archive like Mary Evans and all our amazing, museums are custodians of our shared cultures. They diligently preserve continuity between what “was” and, what “is” ...for those who would hope to build what “will be” and they should be protected at all cost. My 14 year old son would say “what’s the point? it’s just old stuff”, and of course he’s right, but this “stuff” grounds us,  and it teaches us tolerance, because it is only when you view life from another point in time, that we truly gain perspective on our own.

Pulp sci fi scarf

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Raja

4/25/2017

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 once owned a peacock called Raja. If I’m honest I’ve always been a little bit obsessed with peacocks, ever since I went to London zoo at the age of 4 and a keeper gave me a feather; and then again at 8 when I went to Warwick castle with the school and saw them roaming around the grounds. I think I’m mostly mesmerised by their iridescence, because I’m equally fascinated by butterflies and jewel beetles. So when the chance came around to have a peacock of my own, I didn’t need to be asked twice. In my head I had pictured Lazy, summer days with my family in the garden and the peacock roaming around pecking carelessly on the lawn, or sunny himself in the adjacent fields.   And one spring day my dream was realized when a courier turned up from Leeds and delivered Raja, together with a peahen we named Jazmin.
When they first arrived they were 6 months old and I watched on in absolute amazement whilst they changed from plain brown birds to magnificent Persian creatures. Every day a new splash of colour would appear and gradually, over the course of two years that spectacular train of feathers developed. Jazmin also acquired turquoise eyeliner and a sheen of emerald that she could flash or hide at will.
So, did he spend the long lazy summer days sunning himself in my garden?, did he heck, my goodness he was thick. It turned out there was only two things driving Raja forward..Jazmin, and custard creams. He would follow her around like a balloon on a long string, drifting off in the breeze then running to catch the poor thing up. She was definitely the thinking side of the partnership and the truth was, if I had control of her...I had control of him. Every now and then she would look me in the eye as if to say “Can’t you do something about him?”
However, there was about 4-6 weeks every year when a switch would go in his head and even the little sense he had disserted him . We would get a little warning that this phase was about to start because Jazmin would disappear completely, the chickens refused to leave their coop, and Raja would become obsessed by our yard broom. Every May, Like clockwork, he would fly straight onto the roof of the only people in the village who weren’t’ so keen on him... and bellow right down their chimney, goodness only knows how loud this was by the time it reached their open fireplace. On Sundays he would sit on the roof of the little arts and craft, village, church, then, like an image from a William Morris design, he would  squawk along to all the hymns. And despite the fact that we are surrounded by fields and tall trees with ample amounts of substantial things to perch on, he would insist on squeezing himself onto the 3” ledge that was my neighbours bathroom window ledge, just in time to frighten the pants off her as she pulled her curtains. Every now and then during this time, the same church would decide to hold a flower festival. A small army of willing volunteers would spend days creating marvellous wreaths and swags full of flowers and berries to adorn the outside of the historic building. Raja would perch himself on the well opposite and you just knew he was thinking... “Buffet!”. I quickly learnt to lock him up at the first sign of florist’s wire and oasis.
I spent two and a half years chasing Raja around, offering to replace newly, planted, lime green  plants that had caught his eye, or laying elaborate trails of custard creams just to get him back from where ever he’d had got himself stuck. Or walking into my bedroom to find him sitting on the back of the chair, because with the whole of the countryside to wonder around , why wouldn’t you squeeze through the smallest of openings into which ever house took your fancy?
There wasn’t a day went by when I wasn’t caught up in some drama or calamity caused by him, and there isn’t day that goes by that I don’t miss him. It remains to this day one of the biggest privileges of my life that I once owned a peacock called Raja.
So where was I? Oh yes that’s right, scarves. I was inspired by Raja’s fabulous train to create my peacock scarf. Although most of the design is created by painting and working on the images, the eye of each feather remains Raja’s.

Peacock scarf


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A beginning

4/12/2017

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 I’ve finally started my blog!
I know it’s usual to use your blog to keep everybody up to date with new projects and products, I thought however, it would be worthwhile just using the first two or three posts to talk about how I got to where I am, and to talk a little about the designs I already have on the site. Hopefully in the process I can answer some of the questions I'm often get asked.

A lot of the background information on me can be found in about the designer, but in short, my background is in costume and design. Within this role I have often had the need to produce small amounts of bespoke fabric when nothing else could be found. Although this would usually be hand painted or screen painted, the notion that, if you can’t find what you want...you make it, is not new to me.

As you will discover one of my passions is history, so The “Wars of the Roses” design was a pure indulgence on my part. I was researching the period, and had spent the previous weeks clambering over Garter stalls at St George’s Chapel Windsor and pouring over books on heraldry in the British Library. Although the research had nothing to do with design, I couldn’t help thinking that some of this stuff would make great fabric, so the designs were already starting to develop in my head. And so I fancied a scarf that would reflect the beauty and vibrancy of the images I was seeing, but when I looked, I couldn't find anything, so in true costumier fashion, I thought I’d make one myself.

Medieval art and illumination is full of icons and hidden messages, and I wanted my scarf to give a reference to this, so the finished design...for those who care... depicts a brief history of the struggles during this conflict.

In short, The Wars of the Roses were a dynastic struggle between two branches of the same family. Over the period of 30 years they met up and down the country in a series of scuffles, grudge matches and full blown battles. In the beginning it was a struggle to control the crown, in the end, a struggle for the crown itself. By the end of this conflict, the crown had changed hands 7 times and only one of these kings had died naturally in bed.

I wanted to create a design that told a little bit of this story and to pay homage to all of these kings, from Henry VI, through Richard III to the final victor, Henry VII, who was to become the master of iconology as spin. With a background of chain mail, and a nod to the layout of the heraldic flags used to such effect during this period, the royal emblems of all the kings are laid across the design sandwiched between the constantly changing red and white roses, which have come to depict the two branches of this feuding dynasty. Like so many medieval conflicts, the causes of The Wars Of The Roses, were complex and deeply rooted in previous disputes, both sides often raging against something they would eventually become, and so the design also reflects this repetition of state, as it relentlessly repeats across the scarf.
I had the best of times creating this design and It was so well received I ended up producing a small batch, and the need for a website to sell them on arose...and that’s it really...here we are!

www.stgeorges-windsor.org
www.bl.uk

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