Where I’m coming from – An artist's practice

The embroiderer

Henry Passmore Needlework picture of Fremantle Harbour 1890s (Collection of Western Australian Museum)

According to family records, Henry Passmore was my great-great-grandfather. He was the son of a lacemaker (England), a Crimean war veteran, a prison supervisor, a dredger, and a public servant. He also served on the North Fremantle Council.

Importantly to me, he was also a designer. In DESIGN AND ART AUSTRALIA ONLINE he is listed as Designer (Textile Artist / Fashion Designer) and Artist (Carver).

He made embroideries, wood carvings and carved and upholstered furniture.

According to Sarah Murphy, Director of Conservation, National Trust of Western Australia writing about one of Passmore’s carved sideboards in 2015:

Once a year his [Henry Passmore’s] furniture was displayed in Sandovers’ shop window in Perth with a sign “Henry Passmore’s Suite”. Passmore’s work featured at international exhibitions such as the Indian and Colonial Exhibition in London in 1886 at which he won a medal.
Carved iconography abounds including cornucopia, roses, thistles, acorns, grapes and swans. A pair of kangaroos hold rifles in one paw and a flag over their opposite shoulder. This quirky piece of furniture is housed in the Trust’s offices in the Old Observatory, West Perth.
National trust WA news 2015

There is a complex set of influences on my work, but I am often drawn to design, and crossing the bridge backwards and forwards between ‘art’ and ‘craft’. My current work could be described as maximalist so Passmore’s ‘cornucopia’ is very appealing.

Traces of Henry Passmore’s genes might have more sway than I ever imagined.

The child is why

Inexplicably, I thought about Milly-Molly-Mandy this morning. I was a distracted kid and didn’t like reading much, but I loved Milly-Molly-Mandy.

That thought led me to revisit her life. She was busy, independent and interested in lots of things. My life at her age was similar—I lived in a seaside suburb of Newcastle that may well have been an English village; I had a loving, relatively uncomplicated family; I liked making things; I had enormous freedom and loved exploring outside; I was always finding and scoffing mulberries, loquats, mushrooms, honey suckles and even wild onion grass; I tolerated fishing and adored swimming; I collaborated with friends to make up games and songs; I had to do ‘chores’; I learnt to cook; I looked after and loved my pets; I valued and saved my pennies. I was also bratty but that doesn’t fit into M-M-M’s story.

I’ve been going on for some time about how much I love my simple domestic life; musing about how different it is for me since I retired. Today I realised that this life isn’t new, and the child is why. That M-M-M child is just a sentimental version of my more constructive current self. That M-M-M child is also why I’m doing and making—doing and making up for lost time.

I remember when I was 5 I practiced writing my name in my books. Not just in my books, but also in as many books from the family bookshelf as I could, before getting caught and stopped (bratty kid!). Here’s an example:

It’s a pretty strong statement—a signature of considerable size. Practice made perfect!

Mmm…using my fingers to count that it is Day 984/17 📔😳