incartamento

So there I was, happily holed-up in a casa di campagna, a  country hideaway near Alba in Piemonte, Italy. Beautifully restored by Swiss friends, it was a rustico offered to me for a summer’s studio practice. They knew that my teaching work left little time for my own artwork; they also appreciated how important it is for a teacher in any field to be personally engaged with their subject.

I have written previously about a few works from that precious time at Casa Columbina.  See, for example, one Italian summer,  farfalle, and saying the unsayable.  Also see this page in the ‘nomad collection’: Italy

But this little piece stayed in the shadows – perhaps because, at the time, it was too personal, something made for my eyes only, something made to help bring a chapter to a conclusion.  You see, a long relationship had come to an end, and although it was a mutually agreed and (mostly) mature winding-up, there was debris.  It took many moons for the debris to settle, and making this piece definitely helped.

I simply couldn’t toss out my ex-partner’s letters.  He wrote beautifully.  We shared so much: questions, ideas, travel, art.  I wanted to honour both our years together and the traces left in his letters.  I wanted to make some kind of a container for these letters, something simple and rustic, only using materials found at hand.  

As I was playing with possible formats, my Italian neighbour popped in.  I tried to explain what I was doing and she tried to understand… she spoke no English and my Italian is beyond pathetic.  Eventually, she conveyed her understanding that what I was doing was “wrapping it all up”, making a dossier or file… and that Italian word for it was incartamento.  

Oh, I liked that word – it fit my purpose perfectly, and in true Italian style it rolls off the tongue like honey.

Fast forward a couple of decades.  My memento comes out of hiding and a dear friend who knows how to drive a camera expertly documents it for me: thank you, Carol Brandt.


Miriam Louisa Simons - Incartamento 1

salvaged cardboard
khadi paper
acrylic and oil paints
resin stains
the letters
old drawings and photographs
gauze
beeswax
butcher’s twine and other threads
butterfly wings
shoelace

215 x 240 x 65mm

 

Miriam Louisa Simons - Incartamento 2

It can be opened vertically as a book, or horizontally as a box.

 

Miriam Louisa Simons - Incartamento, detail of letter bundle

The letters, wrapped in khadi paper, stitched, bound with butcher’s twine and sealed with beeswax.

 

Miriam Louisa Simons - Incartamento 3

 

Miriam Louisa Simons - Incartamento 4

 

Miriam Louisa Simons - Incartamento 5

 
And now, all these years later, the quiet pleasure of having this memento matures like fine wine.  It gives off a bouquet of gratitude and appreciation for the experiences shared, the learning and depth of feeling that flowers within intimacy.  I prop it up and smile.  

The capacity to make is nothing less than alchemy.


 

kami-no-chaya

wonderboxes | nomad collection
Kyoto, Japan

 

Miriam Louisa Simons, wonderbox series - kaminochaya

 

painting on textured card and watercolor paper, assemblage

cardboard box, Arches watercolor paper, shade cloth, threads, twig, watercolor and acrylic paints, canvas board

460 x 460


This piece began as a watercolor study in the upper garden (kami-no-chaya) of the Shugaku-in Rikyu Imperial Villa in Kyoto.

I loved the pond with its border of perfectly rounded stones, and the way their forms were echoed in the carefully clipped azalea bushes.


wonderboxes


28.09.12

 

daily details 28.09.12

 

stained and distressed canvas, acrylic paints, market basket fragment, bamboo, sea shells, linen thread


There is a curiously sharp sense of joy or mild ecstasy
that comes when you find the particular form required for your creation:
… the experience of “This is the way things are meant to be.”
We participate for a moment in the myth of creation,
and at the same time know more vividly our own limitations.

– Rollo May


one Italian summer …


form and emptiness

 

Wonderingmind Studio: Miriam Louisa Simons, washi bowl

washi bowl
Kyoto, Japan
Japanese washi, silver threads, cardboard stand

 

I find the fragile beauty of  Japanese handmade washi irresistible and came home from Japan laden with sheets of all kinds.  Actually it’s much sturdier than it appears.  Not quite strong enough for bowl-making, however.  How could it be stiffened, strengthened?

I decided to do some research and unearthed an old Chinese recipe used to stiffen silk for flower making.  A few dozen experiments and many failures later I had devised a recipe that enabled me to make bowls using just one layer of washi.  The diaphanous quality of the paper was preserved, and the bowls held their shape. Stitching sometimes appears, but seldom for construction purposes.

The bowls each have their own small base, and a storage box – just as do traditional tea ceremony bowls.

Why bowls?  To spend time in Japan, to participate in the rituals of tea making, serving, and drinking, is to enter another entire mindscape.  Coupling this with contemplation on the paradox of form and emptiness is a deep and profoundly awareness-enhancing practice.  Bowls can be potent teachers.


More bowls
Nomad Collection: Japan


I came to paint the shutters

This post is for James Hardiman, who was there, and who has just reconnected with me via this blog. Wondrous!


Location: a 17th century Presbytère alongside its ancient church in the Normandy countryside at Hiesville. The owner, a dear friend, had offered me the opportunity to spend some weeks there concentrating on my studio work, in return for painting the external shutters on the house.

Said shutters turned out to be legion. They had to be taken down, hardware removed, stripped, sanded, undercoated, painted (two coats), hardware replaced, and re-hung. They were solid wood and weighed a ton. I worked on them in the ancient barn amongst centuries-old sawdust and litter. Did I have any energy remaining for ‘studio work’? Joke.

I took myself and my frustration off to the nearby beaches for long solitary walks.

It was there – as well as in the old barn – that I discovered the bits and pieces that eventually came together as four works which would eventually join the Nomad Collection.

Any carefully conceived and planned pieces were, as usual, utterly sabotaged by the wonder of what lay around me and the ever-unpredictable creative process.

 

Wonderingmind Studio: Miriam Louisa Simons, the artist's path

the artist’s path
[I came to paint the shutters]
Normandie, France
835 x 400

painting on textured board
collage, assemblage
objets trouvés: wooden slab, sawdust
iron staple, wooden slat blind
text fragments, cement, pva glue
acrylic paints


Nomad Collection: France