New Posts: Listen...& Journal of a Madman

Two recent posts in my associated blog, Reconfiguring the Wall:

• Listen...July 19
• Journal of a Madman, July 20

New Posting: The Big House

How to establish links between the four blogs sites that form the basis of this project?
I set up the three additional blogs: 'The Big House', 'About Time' and, 'Reconfiguring The Wall' because I was finding the process of writing a blog all too linear. In additional my first blog, Quilted Out Of Space felt as if it was becoming more of a personal journal and I decided to set up the additional blogs to focus on the individual works I had chosen for this project.
(These blogs can be reached by clicking on the link to each under 'Associated Blogs' in the top right of this blog.)
Now, in order to strengthen connections between the associated blogs, I will list postings as I write them to take visitors from this blog to the latest post on another, thereby strengthening the connections between all four.
Well, that's my intention!

See 'Restorative Justice' July 15: The Big House

Judy McDermott, The Big House: Go To Gaol (diptych) 1995-98

#2 75x110cm, #1 100x60cm

(Photograph A Payne)  

Fragments: The material and the virtual

Some fragments, out-of-order but somehow related within the experience of blogging, that nagging question--what am I going here, and what is the blog anyway? Not only am I questioning the form (and already inferring materiality here, when a blog is situated within the internet somewhere in cyberspace) but keep finding the language itself keeps breaking down as I struggle to work out differences between the material and the virtual...I had thought it would be easy but it's not.  

• a short article in the Australian newspaper on May 13, One click from blog to blah, blah, blah, written by 'Susan Wyndham (Literary Editor)'. She quotes Cate Kennedy (author of The World Beneath) who '...fears our addition to the internet is killing literature'. Kennedy maintains fiction requires '...quiet, slow reflection by writers and readers' and I'd agree but I can't see how the internet/blog in particular can compete with literature or even with the notebook (for the latter's convenience in time and place...my internet connection failed yesterday when I planned to work on this post, so instead I put my ideas in my notebook, or rather the one of the many of notebooks that happened to be on my desk at that moment). Should I be worried? Will my writing process be  damaged beyond repair?
• I spent a day at the Sydney Writers' Festival and noticed a number of session on the effect of what is termed, 'The Digital Age'. James Stuart opened the session 'Beyond The Book' by  speaking about the 'materiality of language' and his work 'The Material Poem' an anthology (Stuart is the editor) concerned with 'the material' but available on-line, so not totally committed to it...or is it?
• 16th Tamworth Fibre Textile Biennial, a matter of time includes a work by Andrew Nicholls --an  image of a piece of cloth projected onto the gallery wall, Time After Time (2004 - 2006), the only piece in the exhibition to have no material form 
• A visit to the Twelve By Twelve exhibition which opened  at the Gosford Regional Gallery at the beginning of June. This is an (ongoing) collaborative project by twelve quiltmakers who communicate via their blog to produce a series of twelve inch square quilts on a given theme. The first series (twelve of the themes) is now a touring exhibition. An example of the virtual (the members are scattered around the globe, no one member knows all the others) becoming material...
• Recent visit to the Accademia in Florence and the series of unfinished sculptures by Michelangelo, the Prisoners the sculptures themselves seem to struggle to free themselves from the marble blocks from which they are made...these take me away from the argument surrounding the blog and to something altogether more fundamental, and that is that the virtual and the material are related through language and the process of creativity...the one preceding the other in the process of making. 

Post stared on June 5 and completed on July 6 2010 [a three week visit to Europe inbetween!]

Where am I?

I started this project in response to a call for abstracts for the next conference of the Textile Society of America, Textiles & Settlement: From Plains Space to Cyberspace. I saw this as an opportunity to investigate the quilt medium from a different angle.


I have chosen three quilts by three Australian quiltmakers: Love Will Nail You To The Cross (1995-1997) by Judy McDermott, The Lost Bird Series (2006) by Pamela Fitzsimons and, Reconfiguring The Wall (2006) by Emma Rowden.
Each of these quilts is associated with a specific site: 'Long Bay Gaol' (Sydney NSW), the Bow Wow Gorge (lower Hunter Valley, NSW) and, 'Callan Park Hospital for the Insane' (now, 'Sydney College for the Arts', Sydney NSW). For this study each quilt is also linked with a blog site: The Big House, About Time and, Reconfiguring The Wall. Three blogs which are are stand-alone but also linked to each other and to this, the original blog set up for this project.

Just as I have chosen specific quilts by three quiltmakers, I am focusing on Gilles Deleuze & Felix Guattari's theory of 'Smooth Space' outlined in their book, A Thousand Plateaus. Their theory prefigured but can also be used to describe the structure of the internet (boundless,without distinctions, blurs differences, rhizomatic, connective, open ended, generative).

Thus the use of the internet is also fundamental to this project. D & G use the patchwork quilt as an illustration of their theory of smooth space, so my question is not: does the structure of the quilt resemble smooth space? but can their ideas open up other spaces for conceptualizing the quilt and the processes of quiltmaking? And testing this through the use of the process of blogging.


I see myself not as objective observer but as an active participant in this project. It is for this reason I have framed the project in terms of 'performance': a 'frame' that is not fixed but shifts - more conversation than statement - just as this blog seeks to open up other connections rather than arrive at a definitive answer.


Images: (Top) Love Will Nail You To The Cross (1995-1997) photographer A Payne
               (Middle) The Lost Bird Series (2006) photographer D Barnes
               (Bottom) Reconfiguring The Wall (2006) Photographer E Rowden

So Be It

This morning I opened Robert Dessaix's book, Arabesques, (at random) and came across this quote on page 255:

...I've made up my mind to write at random. It's not an easy undertaking because the pen (it's a fountain pen) lags behind my thoughts. Now, it's vital not to foresee what one is about to say, that's true. But there is always a bit of play-acting in it..If I feel like contradicting myself, I shall without a qualm. I won't strive for 'coherence'. But I won't affect incoherence either. Hidden away beyond logic is a way of thinking that is more important to me at this point...I aim to amuse myself here...Perhaps at this age it's permissible to let oneself go a bit. Amen. (Which means, I believe: so be it!)

Andre Gide, on the first page of his last book,

So Be It or The Chips are Down. 

Siri Hustvedt explored this process in detail in her recent book, The Shaking Woman (she doesn't mention Andre Gide!) and I've come across it described by other writers too. I've tried it myself and it's not easy, my internal critic interrupts me again and again (I can only attempt it if I tell myself it's writing not to be read by anyone else, illogical but that's how it is).

I sense this process at work when I read Thousand Plateaus. perhaps I could call it in Deleuze & Guatarri's terminology: 'nomadic writing' (or perhaps 'haptic writing' but personally I like 'nomadic' better). And perhaps also when I read Helene Cixous --writing I love best to listen to.
Maybe it's the kind of writing that sits somewhere - in a space - between prose (what I keep trying to call writing-writing) and poetry. Mark Tredinnick calls a poem (in a recent essay on Robert Gray), "...a sculpture of meaningful sound. It's an architecture of voice".

Images: Top 'Haptic Writing #1 ' (SET 2010) 21x30cm handmade book with plant-dyed paper,
       Bottom 'Haptic Writing #2'

Language and the coming into being creatively

On Sunday I finished reading the poet Gregory Orr's autobiography, 'The Blessing'. On Monday I started reading Siri Hustvedt's 'The Shaking Woman (or A History of My Nerves)', also autobiographical.
Orr's narrative tells how he became a poet--when I first read his poetry, I found it difficult to withstand the unresolved grief at its centre--I could not 'face' it.
He had shot and killed his younger brother in a hunting accident when he was 12 years old, the book tells the story of what followed in luminous text, not a word is superfluous, not a word out-of-place (it is indeed a telling set in 'place': the two houses where he grew up, the hairy-scary outings with his father, the family's year in Haiti, Orr's time in Mississippi  as Civil Rights activist, his moment of revelation in a field of iron statues). His coming-to-be-the-poet.
And when I moved from 'The Caged Owl' poems which had threatened to undo me--to his more recent 'Concerning the Book That Is The Body Of The Beloved', I not only sensed the shift but began to see the sense of it.

In his words:

You lost the beloved.
You thought: her page
Is torn from the book
Of life. You thought
It's as if he never lived

How wrong you were:
Loss writes so many
Poems in the Book,
Writes until its hand aches,
Till it's exhausted
And can't write anymore.

Then it sings a song.

(Gregory Orr, 'Concerning The Book That Is The Body Of The Beloved', p194)

And now I am two-thirds through Siri Hustvedt's search for an understanding of her shaking condition. She documents a journey through neurology and psychiatry, through the history of philosophy and psychology. It is a narrative of her search through 'space', not 'place' and yet she continually brings the theory back to her personal experience, her own body within that space. It is more extended essay then narrative, more a coming-to-language itself.

But how and why do these books concern me so? And they do.
I find myself connected to each of the texts, emotionally and intellectually but especially emotionally. And the gift of looking within--their stories, their losses, their questions. And mine.

First binding of '26 Poems I have Encountered' (2009)

A sense of wonder

For some time I have wondered why I studied science first and only came to the arts much later (there are 30 years between my M Science and M Art Theory!). I had thought that it had to do with the 'framework' offered by scientific thought but recently I have realised the two are connected by a sense of 'wonder'.

Emma suggested I look at the website information is beautiful and it was there I did I found another link to a website with images of marine animals: 'New species in Antarctica'. And here was an example of my 'link' to understanding a part of how I came to be where I am. That moment of wonder--when I have no need of possession or of explanation, only a wish to recall the essence of the moment (Trinh T Minh-Ha also makes this point in When the Moon Waxes Red, 2991,p 23), I am still searching for Deleuze and Guattarri's view on the subject...

Yesterday I returned to a poem by Gregory Orr and found a(other) connection in the last three lines:

No wonder I go on
So. I go on so
Because of the wonder.

(Gregory Orr, Concerning the Book That Is the Body of the Beloved, Cooper Canyon Press, 2005, 83) 

Sifting & Sorting

I feel the writing of a new post is way over-due and it's not because my interest in the project is in any way dimmed. Quite the opposite, I seem to have passed the initial stage--where all is new and anything is possible--to one where I am continually sifting and sorting through ideas and definitions and finding myself as lost as ever.

Continuing on from my thoughts on the void ('Smooth Thought'), I find myself looking for possibilities to explore it further. That in itself maybe a problem, am I attempting the impossible (as in searching for definitions of Deleuzian concepts, which are impossibly 'unfixed' as they are continually in a process of 'be-coming'!)--how do you explore 'nothing'? A problem of perspective, perhaps.

Take everything out of the universe and what you have left is 'vaccum'. But even in a vacuum there is something--'dark energy' (a term from astronomy I heard in an interview on ABC Radio National between Richard Fidler and Tamara Davis on the expanding universe). It seems the definition of space is  a  problem even in science. Newtonian space is external and fixed whereas for Einstein, it is mutable and bendy--space time and matter are interconnected and inter-defined.  But can space exist if there is nothing inside it? Even the astronomer can't answer. Geometry may remove the concept of 'time' from 'space'  but now space and time are linked together and considered as one 'big block' we move through; interestingly Tamara Davis spoke of it as "the fabric of space time".

Perhaps here is my problem, the words themselves are beguiling but the concepts are mind-bending (I asked a mathematician recently how she would define the void mathematically, her reply: I don't go there).

There  are a number of models of space-time, different kinds of space (and time) with different properties, all acceptable in one sense or another and so, no easy answer. To deal with this I return to a concept of space that I used in a previous project. One more relevant to this project. And thus find a way which holds onto the idea of what is a continuing process of change (temporality) that underlies this project.without rejecting the possibilities offered by the other models. Add to this the possibility of coincidence, the chance encounter and I think I am entering into the realm the 'performance'.

Meditation Square #5 (2010) detail

In The Practise of Everyday Life, French philosopher Michel de Certeau proposed an operation of language in relation to place and space, proposing 'place' to be an ordering system, akin to language and, 'space' to be a practised place with characteristics of speech and the spoken word. Hence space is unpredictable, transient and ambiguous, continually in a process of formation and never resolved.

1. This morning, while looking for another book, I came across the catalog for Space Odysseys an exhibition at the AGNSW in 2001. A friend had reminded me of it when commenting on my posting, 'Smooth Thought' but I have been unable to find the catalog until now.
Opening the catalog, Afraid? is written on the first page followed by, Don't try to understand and then, Just Believe (from Jean Cocteau's 1950 film Orphee). Good advice!

2. On a recent visit to Brisbane and the Asia Pacific Triennial (APT6) I came across a work by Charwei Tsi Mushroom Mantra--the Heart Sutra inscribed on living and slowly decaying fungi. As I was seeing this work three months after it had been installed, the mushrooms were shriveled but the calligraphy still visible. Both installation and a performance.

3. The book I was looking for (and found) this morning is about the work of performance artist, Barbara Campbell, Flesh Willow. Campbell stitched the text used to implicate the Mary Queen of Scots in her second husband's murder onto 60m of ribbon, then made it into a skirt. In her performance, Cries from Tower (1992) Campbell slowly unwound the shirt while wearing it standing high above the audience. (I saw a video recording of the performance in 2001.)
In the introductory essay to Flesh Willow , Sarah Miller comments: "...Campbell's work is never about excess. She assembles precisely what is necessary...Performance is ephemeral, and despite its documentary or material traces, chooses to inhabit the space of memory and personal engagement".

And this is what I hope to achieve!

Space Odysseys Art Gallery of NSW 2001
Flesh Willows Power Publications University of Sydney 2006

Image top: Wolf Quilt 2009

Note: Sue Pritchard in her essay 'Creativity and confinement' (Quilts 1700-2010) mentions Mary Queen of Scots 19-year imprisonment and her embroidery which makes a connection between Barbara Campbell's performance mentioned in this post and the link I make with Judy McDermott's work in my posting, quilts and prisons, in my associated blog, 'The Big House'.

Let The Beauty

A friend sent me the following poem, a line from which she took as the title for her forthcoming solo exhibition (the details of which I will include at the end of this posting by way of acknowledgement):

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened.
Don't open the door to the study and begin reading.
Take down the musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

 (Rumi)

                                                                                                                                                

I am hesitant to attempt to write another word that might risk the 'rightness' of such a poem yet I am reminded, once again, of how works by Hossein Valamanesh draw me to them in a similar way (and then discover such a connection already exists*).

For me it is the needle and thread that are my 'musical instrument', the act of stitching a form of meditation which stills the world. Words are more difficult, become fraught with uncertainty but perhaps with practice, they will come too.

Details of the exhibition: Let The Beauty We Love Be What We Do
*For a video in which Hossein Valamanesh discusses mentions the influence of Rumi on his work

Image: Detail of 'Mandala Cushion' (2009) antique Japanese sillk from the Philosopher's Path, Kyoto, hand stitched for a friend.

Truth and Lies

What started out as as a collection of questions about how when a half-truth becomes a lie and how (self)deception can be have serious repercussions shifted diection when I bought a copy of 'The Monthly' magazine which contains an essay by Sebastian Smee on 'The Outsiders: Art and Mental Illness' (February 2010, p44).
The essay, written as a series of fragments, operates on a number of levels: the tragic deaths of a father and daughter, the mentally ill as outsiders, and how mental illness and creativity is perceived to be connected (thus treament will obstruct or even destroy the creative impulse--a serious and potentially dangerous belief which Smee comes close to but doesn't confront). As such, the essay is not so much about art and mental illness, as it is about the misconceptions which surround such illnesses and how fearful we can be of individuals who suffer from them.
And while I attempt to make sense of the mix of emotions I feel while attempting to understand this essay and the issues it raises, I wonder if I am also having serious difficulties with this topic and not just Sebastian Smee.
How difficult and at times impossible it is to deal with altered realities within ourselves or those we love, and how much easier its is to exist in a state of denial and self-deception (itself an alternative reality). Although I understand very little about the true nature of creativity,  I do know that the mind in a psychotic state has little opportunity for creativity.

Postscript:
The next issue of 'The Monthly' published a letter in response to Smee's article sent in by Mike Parr ('Degenerate Art', in Correspondence, March 2010, p72). Parr starts off his letter: I was utterly shocked by Sebastian Smee's irresponsible article...and goes on to take Smee to task over most of the points he makes in the original article. I found myself agreeing with many of the issues Kelly raised, some corresponded with my own response response but I had probably taken Smee's essay too personally and felt grateful Mike Parr had taken the trouble to write to The Monthly and  the position he took .
The discussion continued in the next issue, with a response from Sebastian Smee to what he describes as Mike Parr's angry letter, and in which Smee defends his position in his original essay ('No Easy Answers', in Correspondence, April 2010, p73). Yet I don't feel Smee was able to make amends with this letter or resurrect his essay.
I will end with Mike Parr's last sentence:

The essayist is a coward and his 'essay' is an ignorant, cowardly attack on a vast population of loved ones who suffer the terrible isolation and loneliness of mental illness.

Harsh words but the experience of mental illness is considerably harsher.

Smooth Thought

I have walked the track we call the 'undercliff' in the early evening of each of the past two days--something I haven't done since the hot and humid weather began. It's changed, more open to the sky than I remember and the sandstone cliffs that rise steeply above the path are covered with ferns; a result of all the rain we've been having, I tell myself. There is no one else around, only the sounds of vehicles in the valley below tell me I'm not that alone.

Thoughts creep into consciousness, lead one from another, with no discernable links between them, branch off in all directions and move in and out of my mind as I walk along the almost but no longer quite so familiar track. As I near the end of the path, I ask myself a question: could these diverse and seemingly unconnected thoughts, linked only in time by my process of walking along a certain track, be an example of 'smooth thought' in terms of D&G's concept of 'smooth space': rhizomal in structure, networked, relational and transverse (The Deleuze Dictionary, Adrian Parr, 231)?

It is the void which has been occupying my thinking mind recently. Is it a space or an example of non-space? Surely a 'void' is more than 'emptiness'? I can find no reference to it (so far) in 1,000 Plateaus. I could look in Freud and Lacan but they are not the focus of this project. D&G have freed me from considering an object (the quilt in particular) as a 'symptom'. It's a major insight for me, as I had considered such an analysis (in terms of a pathology) to be a personal failing which, now giving it more thought, probably was--after all it was I who had chosen Freud in the first place.

Let me try to explain where I've got to by mapping my thoughts as I walked along (some of the links have been added later):

Thread One: Anish Kapoor: his work in the AGNSW Void Field (1980)--large pieces of stone, the top surface cut flat the sides irregular, I had at fist walked past them but the dark holes in the top of each block drew me back. Deep, dark, I am tempted to put my fingers into one but strangely fearful of what might happen. "I want to try to make things that remain secret" AK said in an interview in the TATE magazine, but it's more than that.

Link: A memory of the maze beneath the castle in Bratislava, the entrance to a part of which warned only those of a strong constitution should enter here and, despite my intrepidation, my husband and son persuaded me to go in with them. My right hand holding onto a rope attached to the wall, my left hand holding on to my son's belt as he walked in front of me and my husband behind, the three of us moved into the complete darkness. I still attempt to understand my sensation of dis-embodiment, in darkness I became mind-only and completely in-the-present.

"Kapoor's objects take on and disrupt the orderly space of galleries" (John Tusa) and I agree--as I had almost disregarded the collection of stone blocks but luckily for me, I took another look. But again, it's more than that. There is a push--pull happening here, I am caught been fascination and fear.

Thread Two: Hossein Valamanesh Middle Path (2008) from his series, No Love Lost: a scroll, the word 'love' written repetitively in Farsi in saffron ink across its surface, in one area the writing fades until it is almost invisible, then reemerges. I find this work extraordinarily beautiful--the yellow text, only a section of the scroll visible the either end remains hidden, the graceful curving lines of script. Meditative, it calms the mind.

Link: I realise Valamanesh's work was in the same room as Void Field although I had spent time with each during different visits.

Thread Three: an exhibition of Wolfgang Laib's work at AGNSW (I now realise this is the site linking all three threads of thought) in 2005. The colour yellow, but pollen not saffron.

A sense of the sacred runs through these three but I am still not there, or am I? Not yet.

Image: my photograph of a section of an ice sculpture, Sahoro, Hokkaido January 2110

Abstract accepted!

I'm in Japan--on the northernmost island of Hokkaido for two weeks. it's been interesting signing in as my blog commands are in Japanese but luckily I was able to work out the position from memory.

On Christmas Eve I heard that my abstract for a paper, 'Performing the quilt: from the block to the blog and back again' has been accepted! A great Christmas present!

Now to get down to the real work of looking more closely at Deleuze & Guaterri's work (it is the how and why they gave the patchwork quilt, in particular, as an example of their concept of 'smooth space' and not something else, a paved area for example, I'd love to know). And someone I met recently also suggested I look at their theory of 'assemblage' but I haven't been able to track down a reference for that yet (I've just realised this is another form of connection, one I've still to make).

And then of course there is the performance aspects to work out...

Image: Sahoro, Hokkaido 2009

The Art of Joan Schulze Poetic Licence

A few days ago I asked my husband if he could give me an example of something that was obscure, his reply: "the way you look for connections between things when there aren't any".

But here is an example of something that has definite connections with this project. In November 2008, Joan visited me and asked me to write an essay to be included in a catalogue to her retrospective exhibition to be held in February 2010. By June this year the catalogue had become a book: The Art of Joan Schulze, Poetic Licence which will be published at the end of January and it will contain my essay, 'A Poetics of Cloth, Paper, Stitch and Line'.

But I know I still haven't explained how this project is connected to the overarching subject of this blog which focuses on a study of interconnections and the work of three quiltmakers: Judy McDermott, Pamela Fitzsimons and Emma Rowden.

In September 2000 I visited Judy in the old gold-mining town of Hill End, where she was the artist-in-residence at Haefligers' Cottage . Early the first morning and over a cup of tea, Judy asked me if I had seen the work of Joan Schulze (Judy had visited the States earlier that year and had bought a book of Joan's work, the first volume of The Art of Joan Schulze). As we looked through images of Joan's work together Judy suggested I could contact Joan as part of the research I was doing for my masters.

I 'googled' Joan when I got home and finding an email address, sent her an email. Within a couple of hours I had a reply and from Joan herself...And so a dialogue began: emails and letters, a first meeting in San Francisco when I visited Joan in her studio. Joan visited Australia the following year and Judy, Pamela and I (plus others) were in a workshop she gave at Lake Keepit near Tamworth.

Joan later selected an essay of mine to be included in another of her catalogues but this is the first time I have work published in a book , one with hard covers (although it is also to be published in softcover form).

So one thing leads to another and I have Judy to thank for introducing me to Joan's work.

How can I keep my thoughts together?

I plan to write a post on my blog most days but my time gets scattered, int erupted, distracted and, thought unlike fragments, which can be collected and joined together again (I could say 'pieced' but I would give myself away here) to form a whole, if one that is incomplete and different from that first envisaged. An element of despair here--how ever will I keep myself together?

I have been thinking about 'embodiment' and this has more to do (at the start anyway) with issues raised for me in Emma's project on the Callan Park site. Emma recently sent me a draft of a paper she was to give (and has now given) at the University of Lincoln on 'Architecture and Justice'. Her PhD explores the concept of the 'virtual court': a system of justice which at its extreme could result in the business of 'the court' taking place in cyberspace (but I am not doing her considerable work justice here and I hope to explore it on more detail and, more accurately with Emma herself or perhaps she will do it for me!).

In her paper, she explores an individuals "embodied experience" in a court of justice unmediated by communication technology in comparison with the court mediated by communication technology: what she terms the "situated body" versus the "dis-located' body.

I see (well, definitely intuit) a connection between the court, the mental hospital (Callan Park) and the gaol (Long Bay--I had written 'of course' but even that needs further explanation) and thus Emma's quilt and those in Judy McDermott's Big House series...Connections with quilts in their material form and the idea of their structure being related to concepts of smooth space and the structure of cyberspace...And the blog as a series of fragments on similar and disparate topics. And remember I am looking for connections that are disparate, as well as, similar. Perhaps it is 'disparateness' (interestingly the spellchecker wants me to write 'desperateness' here, it may well have a point) which offers greater possibilities (certainly initially). But then one can never be certain.

I find my thoughts ricocheting between mind and body, concepts of sanity (losing ones mind), even the thought of posting a blog (that is writing something somewhere in the nothingness of cyberspace, or is the the something-know-not-what of cyberspace) but then letters get lost too.

Image: from my '26 Object Project' (2008)

Quilting the Blog/Blogging the Quilt

After two months of experimenting with the process of blogging I realise that whereas cyberspace may well have share similarities in structure with the quilt, the process of writing a blog is a linear one and therefore does not offer the possibilities of a rhizomal structure as anticipated. I was also finding that this blog (quilted-out-of-space) is more of a journal of my thoughts and day-to-day encounters than explorations of the specific quilts which form the basis of this project.
This is where the idea of inter-linking a number of separate blogs comes from, thereby giving me, the writer the possibility of cross-referencing ideas in time and space between the different blogs.
So, I have set up: quilted-out-of-gaol, quilted-out-of-time and, quilted-out-of mind together with this first blog site, quilted-out-of-space.
Each of the three new blogs will focus on specific work by the three artists as well as seek out connections in terms of similarities and disparities between them.