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I am always interested to see that the great debate about whether embroidery is an art or a craft continues. (See Maggie Grey's editorial in July's issue of The World of Embroidery.) I think my training as a painter has allowed me to have a slightly different perspective on the debate. I have always seen fabric and thread just as any other medium, a means to an end, a very beautiful means but a means none the less.
Perhaps, in a curious way, I also benefited from having a mother who, though passionately interested in art, cast a rather disdainful eye on what she saw as the 'domestic virtues' of embroidery. In many ways, I empathised with this 'modern' woman's view of needlework. To this day, even though I have enthusiastically encouraged students for years to work with thread, I can still identify with the glazed look of boredom that enters the eyes of children and men, in particular, when the word embroidery is mentioned.
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Not until well after I had graduated from Edinburgh College of Art with an MA in Fine Art was I exposed to any form of embroidery. It was largely through an inspirational week's workshop, taught by Mary Youles and Audrey Walker, that the joy of textiles was opened up to me. I had absolutely no preconceptions and very few sewing skills, so approached my embroidery in exactly the same way as my painting. Because I entered the world of embroidery from this direction, it has allowed me to feel that textiles could and should always hold their own in the mainstream of fine art even if this is still not universally recognised.
Even at an embroidery exhibition, I continue to contemplate the work with a painter's eye. My years of teaching have led me to see, using the critical vocabulary of composition, tone, colour and form; above all I am looking for the ideas that the artist is trying to communicate. Somewhere in this process the word 'technique' comes into play but much later on. It has often struck me that, when some people study embroidery, the reverse happens. Firstly they peer very closely at the surface trying to identify each stitch accurately, try to lift a corner of the piece if they are really bold to see the 'workings' and finally step back to admire the composition. In an exhibition of paintings no one would dream of turning a canvas round to see if it had been correctly primed. This is an exaggeration of course but the obsession with technique does in some subtle way, I feel, relate to the often-perceived low status of embroidery.
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Over the past few years I have been fortunate to have my work shown in both fine art and craft galleries. My embroideries have a painting or a sketch as their starting point and I have exhibited them side by side in exhibitions. Often I may have even incorporated fragments of painting into the mounts surrounding the fabric sections. Above all, I am interested in expressing feelings about a subject. When I first moved from London to live in Scotland, the grandeur and wildness of the landscape fascinated me. I have always been inspired, too, by the atmospheric and spiritual dimension found in the paintings of such artists as Altdorfer and Nolde. In travels abroad, particularly in the Middle East, I have found that same wilderness quality and I hope that my embroidery has interpreted this with feeling.
Often I have designed work in three sections like a triptych, partly because of the practical problems of working on a large scale and partly to widen the visual impact. Three years ago I was given an interesting commission: to make a genuine triptych that would open and close like its mediaeval counterpart. The commission was quite prescriptive, a celebration of one family's life. When closed, the doors showed scenes of the different cities associated with the family. Inside a variety of landscapes were revealed, including the Scilly Isles and the valley of Glen Doll in Scotland. Since this commission I have been experimenting with this format. I have enjoyed working with the element of surprise, the contrast between the sombre darkness of the outer doors and an explosion of colour inside.
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In 1974, I was invited to join the 62 Group, resigning in 1981 to become founder Chairman of the New Scottish Embroidery Group. Our inaugural exhibition was held at the City Art Centre, a prestigious gallery in Edinburgh . Certainly the exhibition was a great success with huge numbers of visitors and a level of sales that a commercial gallery would love to achieve. The local press however was keen to make the most of any 'feminist' issues they could find in the work. A distinguished critic at the time wrote in the 'Scotsman' in his generally favourable review, that 'some stitching was ill advisedly emulating painting procedures'!
I wish I could report that since that first exhibition of The New Scottish Embroidery Group the rise in both the status and recognition given to embroidery had gone from strength to strength throughout the UK. Sadly this has not always been the case for whatever reason. The drive to advance embroidery's position must go on, however. Here in Scotland, the three major Scottish Groups that exhibit embroidery widely, Embryo, S.E.T.A. and the 'One, 6,7' (Glasgow School of Art) are to merge this year. To celebrate this and to greet the Millennium with renewed vigour, the group is holding a large conference and exhibition next year, opening in Dundee in April. To help develop wider European contacts, two internationally renowned textile artists have been invited to attend. The title of this exhibition is 'To Boldly Sew: Textiles for the 21st Century' and the optimism of this title could not reflect more accurately how I feel about the future of embroidery.
This article is from The World of Embroidery, Volume 50 No.6, © Alison King.
highlights from November 1999 issue