In the beautiful Arthurian forest of Huelgoat in Finistère, Brittany, I’ve woven thousands of pounds worth of stock, which I’m starting to list for sale this week.
Fields, gardens and moorland everywhere get overblown at this time of year, most of them yellowed and browned by our scorching heatwaves this year. There’ve been unprecedented fires, and even the verdant forest has begun to go a little gold now, ahead of the autumn fanfare.
As the South comes up to meet us here in the relative North, may we be worried for the climate, but also excited for the cultural inspiration. May we strive to resist the worst (the droughts, the floods), but be sure to welcome the best: the people, their artefacts, their traditions, their skills and their resilient ways…
I’m starting this season’s listings with late summer colours, then moving to autumn colours – naturally. Colours which also harken lands of baked earths, pan-tiled roofs, rich minerals and sun-coloured textiles infuse my normally northerly sense this season.
This cloth is woven from dip-dyed yarn, which has a slightly unpredictable self-striping effect, making weaving really quite exciting as the pattern emerges organically. It’s a bit like cultivating a new variety of plant: you know what a given species is going to look like generically, but each one surprises as it grows. The duende in many an inspired maker’s work is the improvisation which allows for, and responds to, the principle of emergence. Look closely below and spot the differences as I weave and wind the cloth on no more than a foot each time.
And in my next blogpost (coming very soon), some hefty text (as you’d expect) and an important call-out. But for today just a visual treat as a gentle warmup. Follow my shop on Etsy for alerts as I list each new garment.