Ali George Artist

  More experimentation using curved piecing (thanks for demystifying this Brenda Gael Smith) then stepping it up with pieced inner sections - trees and all sorts of odd configurations. I can see a larger scale version of this in our exhibition "Sense of Place" towards the end of the year at the Warwick Regional Art Gallery. 

Experimenting with curves and abstract trees and branches. Part of a new quilt for my exhibition with Rebecca Staunton Coffey later in 2024. Lots of hand printed and hand dyed fabrics that, when cut into slivers, made really great trunks and branches - textural and lifted the otherwise flat appearance of each block.  

Stormy weather nearly every day has kept me inside. This week I went back to paid employment after nearly 5 months away to move house, set up studios and offices, study and generally stay sane. Lots of time to reflect, to be still in the afternoons and listen to the grumble of thunder, or watch rain bursts fall over the mountains.  Now that I'm fully functioning (well almost) in the studio / office space it has made a huge difference to establish my routines and settle into them like falling into an overpadded lounge chair. The last 5-10 minutes of every visit is set aside to put everything back in its place, to tidy, sort, prepare and clean up before the lights go out, the fan slows to stillness and the sliding doors meet in the middle to signal the end of another day.  It's now time to be gentle, and keep the promise to myself of stress free Christmas holiday. We're unplugging, as far as we can, from the digital world and have banned phones at the table during meals, conv

  More experimentation related to next year's exhibition. I used Maria Shell's template . I wanted to find something that captured my response to Karim Demirbay's sexist comment to a referee after being red-carded. To his credit, he is reported to have apologised (and why should that be something to celebrate). In exploring our exhibition title / theme I was drawn to the mitt as something that portrays the idea of  'knowing one's place'. Lots to think about, explore and many expiriments ahead. 

My favourite part of the post-dyeing process is when I get to make marks. I most always use block printing inks (oil based) which are messy and take days to 'dry' but give amazing results on paper and cloth. Sometimes I leave the pieces whole, while other times I love the way slices and snippets take on a different life as part of an overall composition. I also love how the fabric picks up the 'noise' from the inked base ( I use a Skvallra desk pad from Ikea , about $10  for a 60cm x 80 cm size ). 

  I have been dyeing quite a few metres of fabric, trnsitioning from clear orange through to muted blue. The muted blue ever so slightly dulls the intensity and it works better for me. These past days were spen+t at retreat with the tribe - and these log cabin blocks will most likely be part of an art quilt, destined I hope, for my exhibition with Rebecca Staunton Coffey in late 2024. These blocks have been  made from free cut strips and will blend with the next lot of fabrics, some light and medium values in the same colourway. The focus will be around deconstruction and I'm looking forward to seeing hwo it progresses.

The excavator's words have stuck in my head, rent free. ' I have to make one hell of a mess before it can become beautiful. There is no beautiful end without the mess '. Or words to that effect. The retaining walls at the back of the house have to be finished before anything else can happen in the yard - and in between downpours, a few expletives and more rain, it has beena testing time for all involved in the construction.  I thought about his words - and the effort of making a quilt from scratch. The planning, drawing, testing, dyeing, playing, creating, starting again, creating and the final 'ah ha'. There is so much 'mess' before a quilt is resolved becomes a thing of meaning and beautiful in its own way. Blessed are the excavators.

  I've been limited for studio supplies and space for about two years,  confined to a 16-square Kallax and a sewing table. (OK, full disclosure, there are a couple of bolts of PFD fabric in a back room I have accessed for dyeing). Two boxes contain finished quilts tops in need of quilting, there are protein and plant based fabrics ready to dye, hand dyed and printed lengths, my mark making equipment and a box of office supplies. The open shelves contain the things that make me smile (top row) and the resources that inspire me like books, journals and sewing supplies (second row).  The restrictions have been in terms of available space, resources and time. I'm confined to 4 metres x5 metres after having access to a large, outdoor barn/studio and an internal sewing room/spare bedroom.  When we moved from Tarome we had pared down our belongings to such an extent that more than half the remaining cartons were filled with art and studio supplies.  There are about 25 packing boxes o

I find the process that resolves itself as a textile work challenging. In the beginning I am clueless. This is as much a strength as a source of mild anxiety. I have learnt persistence and turning up are as important as creative thinking.  I'm mindful  my first response is not going to be the best so I'm starting with a mind-dump. My focus is the Neville Bonner Pedestrian bridge connecting Queens Wharf to South Bank. Thoughts are scratched deep into journal pages. I'll find more connections over coming months. Right now I'm challenged and torn. What started as perfunctory research about Meanjin's (Brisbane's) newest bridge has developed into a sense of disappointment and WTFWTWPT (WTF-were-the-white-people-thinking)? I'm unpacking those thoughts in my journal - the architects and their inspiration, the consortium , what the bridge connects, where it leads, Yuggera and Turrbul people's connections to this part of the river, Mr Neville Bonner's  own

  Priority #1 Create: Experimenting with a new carving inspired by brilliant Australian designer Francis Burke , Finnish artist Maija Isola and Swedish designer Stig Lindberg.  I am experimenting on a former hotel tablecloth. It is one of many end-of-life hotel linens I purchased through a disposals agent. They are mostly a cotton/poly blend. They are invaluable for test prints. The process ground to a halt when my assistant  tried printing with his inked up wirehaired haunches. After a few days of drying (the cloth, not the assistant) I'm ready to continue. Many lessons and tweaks from our session. The solid rectangles overwhelm the more delicate stem and bud shapes. An issue with scale perhaps. I'll continue without re-carving the block. Repetition of itself is pleasing to the eye and the registration quality could, in the wisdoms of Shunryu Suzuki, do with a little improvement. Textile: used tablecloth, 75% cotton and 25% polyester printed with original linocut design, hand