Stitched by Tom Hickman

 

A book can take many forms, not simply a printed text and illustrations but something that in itself is a work of art. Throughout the seventeenth and early eighteenth century embroidered stitchery was often employed on book covers. I took this as my point of inspiration and during last winter while still in Western Australia I started my stitched book. Since then I have concentrated my creative needlework entirely to the pages of this book and estimate it will take the rest of 2020 to complete. Each panel or page measure 30cm x 40cm, while the book itself has a concertina form, standing on bun feet and when open is self-supporting. I had given little thought to how these needlework panels could be bound. It was only after several months of stitching that the idea of framing each one in wood and incorporating a wooden hinged mechanism evolved. To execute this I called on my furniture making friend Simon Tyler. Over the years I have worked with him on various projects and he has made not only furniture for me but all the oak windows of my Breton farm house. Like myself Simon did not stop work on reaching retirement age but now tends to concentrate on what gives him pleasure. At the moment that as playing his banjo as well as making himself a new banjo. It sounded as if my concertina book was going to be equally complicated to construct as that banjo.

There is something very special in a friendship that allows you to work in someone else’s studio or workshop and Simon’s is a space that has seen an exceptional creative output over the past twenty years.

Most people would have made a scale model in order to see if worked but I moved straight on to the finished item confident that it would work. I have as yet only assembles three of the double sided pages but already I can see the finished book will look impressive. It was back in April during the period of covid confinement when we were required to carry an attestation with us every time we left the house, which stated by way of box ticking one of the valid reasons for being out. If when inspected by the Gendarmes it was discovered to be incorrectly filled out on inspection an on the spot 130 euro fine could be imposed. Walks of up to one kilometre from the house and for one hour were permitted but I found myself on more than one occasion crouching behind a talus (stone and earth field hedge similar to those found in Cornwall), just in case the sound of that rare approaching car turned out to be the Gendarmes. Those printed attestations became the inspiration for another page.

Brittany was almost clear of covid during that period but now that the government has decided that everyone requires a period of regeneration (would that because people’s work or the stress of being confined was degenerating, or was it referring to those businesses relying on tourism). Tourists flocked here bringing the virus with them and a corresponding “R” rate of 2.5 around the coast. I have twice seen couples thumbing a lift on the outskirts of local towns and although the main music festival in Carhaix was cancelled this summer there are plenty of smaller uncontrolled events. During that blessedly peaceful period of confinement one of my walks took me past a remarkable oak tree that has little changed during the thirty years I have known it, and so before it came into leaf I captured its form in tweed wools.

Including both front and back cover there will be in total 24 pages to the book which will require in order to be opened out and read a good size farmhouse kitchen table.