The Embroider

Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around—Vanilla Sky

Early 2018, I awoke one morning with the decision to throw my current life in the Netherlands to the wind. I’d been living on the continent for over 27 years and remaining there no longer served who I was and what I wanted out of life. 

I decided there and then that before my next birthday, in April, I would repatriate to my hometown area of Oxfordshire in the UK. So, I put my house up for sale at the start of March and began a major life laundry, clearing up, throwing out and closing down my life there.

The move was complex. A moving company took the bulk of my possessions to the UK and put them in storage; my brother drove over with his transit van and picked up me, my two cats and remaining possessions. The overnight journey by boat went well and the cats became expats.

Since then, re-activating my life has been complex: buying a house; finding a job and getting used to England again. The feeling that I’m on Mars has lessened, but it’ll take a while before I feel as though I belong. The urge to speak Dutch has vanished, although the odd Dutch word will still pop up now and again thwarting my flow.

Finding a job is the main task at the moment and Internet searches on job sites are interspersed by appointments with employment agencies. It’s a slow process and my enthusiasm goes in peaks and dales.

On my trips to the centre of Oxford, I notice the increase in the number of homeless people, living on cardboard box panels, under duvets. Over the years, it’s  increased exponentially and it’s a sad sight to see in what is considered to be such an affluent city. Alongside the street dwellers, are opinionated preachers, musicians and young people, showing off acrobatic or football skills, in the hope of a few coins from passers by. 

One person, however, stood out from the rest, and who actively seemed to be trying to make something more positive out of her circumstances. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, on a sleeping bag, she was totally absorbed in the process of sewing a picture on a large canvas, using brightly coloured, embroidery thread and wool. Ironically, her back was facing the outside wall of a well known bank. Her pictures are happy scenes embroidered onto material, guided by roughly sketched outlines. Every so often she would be forced to take a rest, due to the arthritic pain in her hands. The results of her labours are charming, colourful pictures, which have a naivety to their style.

Stopping to chat, I found out that this was Carol’s turf. She’d sat here every day for the past six years—sewing. Her pictures were not limited to canvases, there was also a large lamp shade that someone had thrown away, which she had covered with her creative stitches, plus a rather macabre looking doll. ‘I’ll sew on anything I can get my hands on’, she said. At one time, she made a series of small dogs, which became popular and sold instantly whenever she made them, but she found making things to order boring. That’s not why she sewed: ‘I do what I do, because I have to,’ she said.

Whenever the police tried to move her on she would say: ‘I’m not beggin’, I’m working.’ To the tourists who want to photograph her she says: ‘ If you want to take a photo of my work and help me do what I do—throw some coins in the box.’

I told her that I kept a blog and asked if she’d mind if I photographed her and her work for a blog post: ‘You do what you’ve got to do—at least you asked, most people don’t’, she replied. ‘I’ve been on telly and photographed before’, she added. As a raised my phone, she went quiet, adverted her eyes and bent her head to look at the ground. 

Like many artists, Carol was doing, in her words ‘what she had to do’. How she came to be there is of course another story and not relevant to my conversation with her. I was touched by the way she embraces her creativity as a means to survive on the streets, but ultimately shies away from the limelight.

If you’d like to see Carol’s work, or have a chat, you’ll find her sitting at Carfax, at the end of Cornmarket Street.

© Alison Day

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Frogs etc. - Jasper Oostland

It is a series of brightly coloured cards depicting a variety of animals, which have been attracting my attention for a while. Each has its own story, and is illustrated to incorporate realism, in the accuracy of their detailed rendering, plus a hint of the world of cartoon in their personification. Although frogs seem to be in the majority, it is the card with a bird wearing a top hat tilted at a rakish angle, that becomes the deciding factor in my contacting the artist; beady eyes, long pointy beak and an intense stare invite the viewer to choose one of the three upturned cups on the table in front of the bird, in a gamble, to reveal what’s hiding underneath.

These are the creations of artist Jasper Oostland who lives and works in Groningen. I arrive at his house on a rare sunny day in June; a house filled with large windows, which results in an overall bright, airy feel, and is the perfect residence for an artist. With his studio situated in the attic, we head upstairs. White walls, windows on two sides, jars filled with brushes awaiting action, and enormous pots of acrylic paint stand resolutely on a table. Nearby, is an easel with his latest work in progress; there’s a lot of bright pink happening in this work, and from the outlines I can just make out a car and a flamingo. The easel has an ingenious feature - the addition of a rotary centre. This allows the current work to be turned a full 360 degrees, allowing complete ease of access to the entire picture whilst it is worked upon.

A former student of the art school, Minerva, in Groningen, Jasper studied illustration with an emphasis on technique. Studying the use of light, its source and application, is an important part in creating the 3-D realism of the animals. To my question about his colour usage, he says it is something that he uses intuitively. Each work starts with a wash of background colour upon which the animals are brought to life through a series of painted layers progressing from dark to light. As he talks he passes me an amazingly detailed picture of a large grey rhino, standing wistfully next to a delicate pink rose in a glass vase. The equally bright pink background is one of his experiments; in this case how to make pink work on pink. Other little tricks and details he puts in his work are expressly done to leave something for the viewer to discover.

The abundance of frogs in his work, often in everyday situations, leads me to ask firstly, if he is the frog, and secondly, if the variety of situations the frog finds himself in, is maybe a tongue in cheek social comment. To the former he says he is not as far as he is aware the frog, although sometimes according to his girlfriend, he can have a particular stance or expression that reminds her of a frog. As for a deep and meaningful message or social comment, he says there isn’t one, he likes frogs, and in particular tree frogs because they have a lot of character; they have great hands with padded fingers that can hold things and expressive eyes.

When it comes to inspiration he researches photos in books or images from the Internet, for the accurate depiction he needs. As for what comes first, it is more or less spontaneous - sometimes it’s the animal and sometimes the object. Ideas also come from association or a particular pose, and these are worked out further in a sketchbook.

These days it is very important for artists to be active with self-promotion if they want public attention. Jasper seems to have this under control: he has an up to date website; makes use of social media (find him on Facebook); exhibits regularly; sells work online – both originals and giclées; uses Chat Roulette, a website where you can watch him paint live. Also, by every exhibition he places a large pile of cards depicting one of his works and including his contact details. As he says: “People keep them and pin them up.” This continual visibility has led to 20% of his work being commission based, and, as a result he finds himself in the enviable position of having enough work for a year.

When asked if he has any dreams for the future, he says that at the moment he is quite happy with the status quo, but maybe a book, a little more structured organization of his business as a whole, and, as the father of two young daughters under five, a little more sleep wouldn’t go amiss.

If you would like to see Jasper’s work, why not visit the library in Groningen, where he is currently exhibiting a selection of works. It runs from 5^th September 2012 to 4^th January 2013.



© Alison Day
First published in the Connections magazine #37 Autumn 2012
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Women of Clay - Hilda van Popta

Flying through the streets on my Vespa, destination Paddepoel, for my next artist interview in Northwest Groningen. I arrive outside an ex-office building from the 1970’s, which whilst waiting for new tenants and in the care of anti-squat company named AdHoc, it is filled with a number of small businesses. Number eight on the eighth floor are my directions, as I gingerly step into a rather antiquated and scary looking lift, which reluctantly shudders and shakes me up to the eighth floor.

Each level of the building is built around a central lift house, the rooms of which are large and spacious. Hilde van Popta, favourite colour pink, greets me; she loves bright colours, and has a smile to match. She shows me around the different rooms: one where she conducts regular workshops, (filled with partially finished female figures on tables and ledges), another that exhibits examples of her finished works, followed by a large room, which is the photographic studio of her sister, (a photographer and visagist). The rooms are filled with images and trinkets, masks, beads, clothes and scarves; a feast for the eyes, but what makes me smile is a bright pink, feather-covered Barbie-esque 1960’s telephone, pontifically placed on what must have been the reception desk in days gone by, and, it actually works!

Over a cup of coffee, I find out that Hilde is a trained nurse and presently still works in the health sector (in an administrative capacity). With no formal art training she dabbled in acrylic painting as a hobby, but it was a six month clay-modeling course that became the turning point, and her women in clay figures emerged. Her figures then developed further as although she found them interesting in shape they lacked something. Out came the acrylic paints, and she proceeded to paint them in bright colours to “pimp up the images” as well as decorating them with fabrics and other miscellaneous objects.

 

I ask her about her colour use, to which she says that she loves bright colours; the colours pink, red, black and white feature regularly in her work. Also, she uses acrylics because one knows what the outcome will be, unlike glazes, which are generally a surprise until they leave the kiln. However, she would be interested in experimenting with the latter in the future, as she believes that it is important to continue to develop oneself as an artist.

Subject-wise she chooses women, due to the fact that women in their diversity are a great source of inspiration, and also her clientele often recognize themselves in her work. There is no deep and meaningful message behind her figures, with a lot of them coming into existence quite intuitively, often making her laugh.

I ask her if finance was no object, whether there is an artistic project she would like to realize in the future. Quick as a flash she tells me of an old empty factory she drives past every day, by the side of the motorway. She would like to buy something similar, do it up, and convert it into an enormous artists’ market. With her as the owner, it would be a hive of artistic creation: with artists at work, little individual shops, workshops and music would pervade the air. 

If you would like to become the proud owner of one of Hilde’s ‘Women of Clay,’ why not take this opportunity and use the 10% discount voucher on this page? The offer runs from 01 January 2011–30 June 2011.

Alternatively, if you would like to take part in one of Hilde’s workshops you can contact her via: hilde@vrouwenvanklei.nl / 06-21955117

To view her work: Vrouwen van Klei

© Alison Day
First published in the Connections magazine #30 Winter 2011

Read & download issue here