In addition to pumpkins and apples, changing leaves and crisp temperatures, a much-anticipated harbinger of fall in central Vermont is the beloved annual Art at the Kent exhibition in Calais. If you aren’t familiar with it, follow this link to acquaint yourself with the curators who accomplish this massive feat each fall, the distinctive venue which is as much a part of the show as the art itself, and specifics about this year’s exhibit, “Traces”.

I took very few photos when I visited last week, so this post is not a virtual tour. However, I can’t encourage you more strongly to go see for yourself; think of it as a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow — a beautiful drive through a lovely part of the world, arriving at a unique treasure of an exhibition.

What I keep thinking about in hindsight is the artists who had work in multiple mediums on display. I found it enlightening that the curators chose to represent the breadth of their practices as opposed to showing only pieces from a single discipline. Creative ground is fertile. As a viewer, I enjoy considering the potential expansion of an artist’s thought processes as one medium feeds another. Or perhaps, that’s not the case. It’s entirely possible that the only way to say what needed to be said was via another language. Either way, it added to my experience to see the variety.

Many of us branch out in our work, for any number of reasons. Cross-pollination deepens our discoveries, ultimately enriching both our experiences in the studio and our results. Diversification gives us more substance to draw from in future work.

The path from Point A to Point B is often circuitous, inconsistent and complex, but it usually ends up being well-worth the ride. Pay The Kent a visit; I’m sure you will agree.

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My friend and sculptural knitter Leslie Roth introduced me to Scottish knitwear designer Kate Davies a number of years ago. I have since knitted from Davies’ patterns and also read and been moved enough to write about her book Handywoman. While I’m not a regular follower of her blog, I dip into it from time to time, always enjoying what I find there. Her recent post “September Feeling” is one to share…its sentiment is as lovely as the accompanying photographs. If you feel a strong sense of connection to the place you call home, I think you will be able to relate.

Have I got a great book for you! …Handywoman by Kate Davies, a recounting of transformation through creativity.

In a series of essays Davies wrote in response to the paralyzing stroke she suffered at the age of 36, this book offers a fascinating look deep beneath the surface of an unexpected, life-changing event. Davies discusses at length the ways that her stroke and disability have transformed how she sees not just herself, but also her community and the world around her as she relearns to navigate within all three.

A special thank you to my friend, mixed-media/knit sculptor Leslie Roth, who introduced me a while ago to Kate Davies, her designs, and her blog …and for loaning me this wonderful book. Watch Davies’ Tedx Talk about her experience.

What most engaged me is the tenacious thread woven throughout the book relating how creativity and her drive for “making” opened a pathway toward healing when she was at her lowest points. That drive has continued to be a mainstay as she has learned to redefine herself.

Davies acknowledges in detail the advantages the creative foundations she had built in childhood provided her in moving forward from the dark days when she realized she could no longer accomplish the most basic tasks by herself, such as braiding her own hair — a daily ritual that had been part of her identity for years. One essay delves into the history of braiding as the precursor to all textile arts, carrying with it early and strong symbolic and spiritual associations. Recognizing the dichotomy of both the feminine and the mysogynistic connections that are attached to braids, Davies highlights a skill we often think of as simple (my mother set me to braiding yarn before she felt I was ready to learn to knit), and yet when dissected from the vantage of point by point coordination and movement, it is, as Davies explains, a “dexterous performance of remarkable complexity”. Relearning to braid with thick yarn was the beginning of regaining strength in her left arm so that with three months of hard work she was once again able to take care of a very personal grooming routine, regaining, to an integral degree, a sense of herself.

Hard reality sets in as I begin to see that color is going to be key in defining different areas. The white “reverse” stitching is okay to a point, but it doesn’t go far enough. At this stage I’m beginning to see the challenge of choosing colors that can both coordinate with and hold their own against this dark background.

Her stroke wasn’t diagnosed for a crucial 36 hours because the attending physician didn’t think to look for it, assuming she was just a stressed, hysterical woman. And those caring for her during that interval callously shunted her aside as spoiled and privileged. She takes a hard look at those uglier realities of the medical system and of some who work within it, while simultaneously noting the many kindnesses and intriguing science that facilitated her as she worked her way back to mobility during the time she spent in care.

She writes at length about the liberating impact of good design in the tools that aided her progress as she reattained her independence. The depth of her research and engaging writing style are a testament to her former career as a literary academic, bringing the reader along toward greater understanding of a wide range of topics as she uncovers the layers of complexity and far-reaching effects of brain injury.

It’s time to leave reality and move toward “oomph”. The variegation of this thread starts to show the possibility of using color to define form.

But beyond those topics is the unfolding of how she found strength, healing, and community through knitting, making her way on a new path as a knitwear designer and author, building a career that accommodates her slower pace and new reality. As noted in the synopsis on the back of the book, this is not a story of triumph over adversity, but rather “part memoir, part personal celebration of the power of making…redefining disability as in itself a form of practical creativity.

I think I have most of my palette nailed down, so now I need to keep plugging away, stitching and (undoubtably) undoing stitches, as I find my way. There will be a lot of changes in the days ahead!

And for anyone who is a maker of any sort, you will be uplifted and reassured in what you undoubtably already know: making and creativity are indeed lifeblood.

Elizabeth Fram

Eye of the Needle

Tag Archives: Kate Davies

Fertile Ground

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Lifeblood