Art as Meditation by Kerry Rochford

Crafting a Beginning

Art stepped in as a result of an overwhelming need to be creative with my hands. I had always loved art and crafts and had dabbled over the years when pockets of time opened up. Over time, art compelled, became almost essential, a deep calling, and I had little idea of the journey that was ahead of me.

I started out by turning my hands to mosaic, I smashed plates and cups and covered a mannequin bust which still sits in my garden. I mosaiced mannequin bottoms and topped them with pedestal bowls which became quirky birdbaths. Shovels and spades lined up with scenes and flowers sprouting from their handles and fronts, teacups became hanging bird feeders, and the largest piece was a waist to feet mannequin complete with mosaic gumboots and a bowl for bird feeding.

Commissioned Craft

I became hooked, and it led to two beautiful exhibitions, one at a local café and then two years later at Jetty Food Store at Port Elliot. Soon, my work was commissioned, and I flourished on craft until my fingers began to protest at the hard work of cutting tiles as arthritis took hold. Over the next few years, I experimented with different crafts: paper mâché, weaving, eco-dying and basket coiling. I read books voraciously to teach myself the skills of each craft, attended workshops when I could and played at creating things that brought me — and others — moments of joy.

Getting out of my head and into my hands, became, not only my passion but also my meditation. I sometimes put parenting on pause to fill my own heart and soul, something that we all need in this frenetic 21^st century.

My new family of four grandchildren thrived, the littlest went off to kindergarten and then school, and I burrowed down deeper into the world of arts and craft. I unashamedly tried anything and everything, searching for the one thing that would fit with my personality and lifestyle while suiting the hours of parenting. It needed to be soothing, and portable, if at all possible, for hours spent waiting in the doctor’s surgery, on the side of a sports oval or swimming pool, for the children to get out of school.

Then Came Art

By serendipity, I discovered the #100dayproject on Instagram, bought a watercolour pallet and some brushes and jumped blindly into the world of producing a postcard-sized painting every single day for 100 days. I had no idea what I was doing or how the paints worked, leading to some discouragingly terrible pieces, but 100 days is a long time, and they got better, they did.

I moved up to A4 and then A3 works and became excited by the endless possibilities I could create in a relatively short amount of time. I found enduring happiness in researching any subject that took my interest and turning it into art. My first exhibition in my rusting, but adored tin studio was a success; people liked my style and my subjects. My work sold, and I was stunned and grateful.

A Productive Interruption

Following my Festival Fleurieu exhibition in 2019, it was sadly time for my tin studio to come down before it fell to bits. With a weighty sense of loss, I packed up my art supplies, but waiting for the new studio was difficult. I felt adrift and lost without a place to create and take stock. The lack of space, both physically and mentally in a house of six, was challenging.

Set adrift from my anchoring arts, I picked up some previously unfinished embroidery as a way to keep my hands busy. Not to put too fine a point on it, it was a revelation. I’d found what I had been searching for, the simple practice of working with a needle and thread and its quiet meditative action. Embroidery is portable, affordable, easy on my hands, and the possibilities were, I realised, as endless as painting. My experience with art allowed me to turn my embroidery from something mundane into an art form. Now, I follow my instincts to research and create detailed, meaningful and creative works.

I savour my new studio every day, its beauty, its light, its ambience. It is such a privilege to have a place of my own, a room where I can just be, or create and write.

Words and Threads

Now 63, I have returned to university to study creative writing, carving out a few extra hours a week to feed my soul. I still love words and all that they can convey, and now I have the joy of embroidery sitting alongside my writing. These two gentle arts fill me with a sense of wonder and purpose and have, without doubt, saved me as I continue to strive to give my daughter’s children, my second brood, all the opportunities they deserve. It isn’t an easy road, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Our Second Family

My story is simple; it is the narrative of quite an ordinary person who has struggled to manage the unexpected travails that life has thrown her way. As I read over these words, gaps appear as chasms. There are probably no adequate words to describe the underlying challenges of raising four children whose early years were difficult.

We are not alone in knowing the complexity of living with emotional, social and physical challenges which require so many outside agencies and always, always the overarching bureaucracy. There is nothing to describe the worry, the nights laying awake working through the heartache, the concern that you will not be there to continue to support and guide four children in their adult years.

Days pass in a blur, the children now 15, 13, 11 and 7 are doing well, and we are proud of their achievements. Clive and I hold each other up. We take small breaks from the constant demands separately as there is no one else to look after the children. We try to be the best parents we can be; we take caravan holidays as a family; I teach them to knit and embroider and paint. We send them to piano lessons and Nippers, Clive is teaching them, one by one to cook.

Giving Thanks

We face the challenges one at a time and give thanks that we are both still healthy and robust, all the while harbouring a fear as to how long this will be the case. It is hard, demanding, challenging and at times, overwhelming and exhausting.

But, there is nothing like the love we have for this second family

If you missed Part 1 of Kerry’s story, go here.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Embroidered art images and photos by Kerry Rochford