Walking the Block

Foreword


‘I think ‘fabric’ is the most disgusting word in the English language.When people tell me they’re doing ‘fabric printing’
I feel I’d like to kick them.’
                                                                                                                                                     Phyllis Barron





My journey into handblock printing began several years ago, in Venice, when I was researching
the pioneering work of Mariano Fortuny, his experiments in block printing alongside natural
dyeing techniques, particularly indigo. One evening a friend of mine gave me a copy of Fiona
McCarthy’s biography of the life and work of William Morris, knowing my interest in textiles,
specifically in the Arts and Crafts movement. The more I read, the more I became astonished by
Morris’s manic industriousness, his insatiable appetite to ‘discover’ and ‘make’; especially since
part of this ‘making’ included writing up to a thousand lines of verse a day. Morris’s letters
show that the writing of poems had become obsessive. In his poetic phase the urge to make a
poem came nagging at him constantly like one of his compulsive physical activities, a mental
equivalent of netting and weaving.

He expressed lucid views on how other poets approached the making of their poetry: ‘Shelley
had no eyes’ and Keats he found easy to relate to because of his ‘supreme visual quality.’ Of
Keats’s poem ‘The Skylark’ he said, ‘WHAT a gorgeous thing it is!’ Morris saw this poem as an
entity ‘made’ up - like a textile - from its elements, the words, lines, rhythms, rhymes, cadences
and so on threaded together by Keats’s ‘eye’. He also drew a distinction between ‘poets of
rhetoric… such as Milton and Swinburne and poets who were primarily makers of pictures,
visually observant poets such as Chaucer and Keats.’

The poetry canon is littered with poets who, as with all great artists, practised the tradition of
close and accurate observation, such as the detail of cytology in some of the work of American
poet Marianne Moore; whose poetic engineering of scientific process and detail into the heart
of her poetry gives the work its fine complexity and insights. The English poet, Gerald Manley
Hopkins, with his sprung rhythm in verse, may be regarded as creating the poetic equivalent of
a woven welsh blanket, with the joy, gaiety and strict symmetries of fine close woven patterns.
In short there are parallels and affinities in the making of a poem and the making of a textile,
which Morris clearly recognised.

Although his approach to ‘making’ later moved away from traditional methods and ideals
towards producing his designs with industrial modes of manufacture, using newly emerging
chemical dyes and machinery, many contemporary textile artists, particularly women, continued
to create their work with traditional hand making methods. They used labour intensive
production where the artist had close contact with the raw fibres, handspun threads, handmade
textiles and the natural dyestuffs which served as the palette for their designs. Among these
women were the weaver and dyer Ethel Mairet, the embroiderer Eve Simmonds and the block
printers Phyllis Barron and Dorothy Larcher. They were pioneers of natural dyeing and were,
with others, responsible for recovering and reintroducing natural dyes into fine art and design.
It was the language of the patterned textiles of Barron and Larcher that drew me to making of
the poems that inhabit this book; the unique rhythms, rhymes, repeats and the conversations
running through their printed stuffs. Each length of cloth, which they named like a person or a
particular place - sometimes the very spirit and essence of a place - appears to take on a personality,
which in turn seems to posses a distinct voice, speaking in its own tone, expressing its
own mood with its own inflections and nuances. Indeed many of their prints I felt looked far
beyond the initial impulse of representation, and startled; altering perception, like language or
words stitched together can so often do.

At times it was as though the block and print were both the mouth and the menu for the feast.
And what a complex feast it was, punctuated with conversations of all kinds, sometimes quiet,
at other times jostling; though never vying or breaking the harmonies between the nuance of
movement of the block and the finality of design, colour and texture. Even on some of the
overprints I never sensed direct competition, just a working out of something through the
print. And where one pattern is bold and abstract, you are just as likely to find another that is
quiet or contemplative, like a psalm or hymn flushed with subtle cadences. There are fragilities
and imperfections that also resonate. So often the language of any art is not quite enough; it discomposes
yet does not completely express what it needs to, teasing at the unconscious before it
soaks away. This effect is visible in the work of Barron and Larcher, particularly in their
experimental pieces. Sometimes the narrative or story is told with starling clarity; at others the
patterning fuzzes, fades away making something not quite heard.

It is interesting seeing their patterns printed on different kinds of cloth, how the dialogues or
monologues alter depending on the context; silk brocade, crepe de chine, linen, cotton, or velvet.
And in different lights the emphasis often shifts, and very like a poem read in different
rooms to different people, patterns the air in such a way that it is always received differently.
Sometimes you discover poems, something heard or seen or read breaking away like bread.
Barron and Larcher did this too, exploring and experimenting with the idea of what a block is
and what it could achieve. They used found objects such as car mats, kitchen utensils, mollusc
shells, cotton reels and seed heads, conjuring a kind of magic out of the ordinary and by so
doing transformed the nature of shape and line and contour with colour. Experimentation and
play characterised their approach to developing their designs, reflecting the philosophy of Robin
Tanner, the teacher and etcher and a close friend, who believed in the connection between play,
creativity and work. The design philosophy of Ethel Mairet - think in cloth, not on paper - was
reflected in the way Barron and Larcher worked through their design and production processes.
A significant range of their textiles have survived, such as the ‘Girton curtains’, because they
used durable stuffs to dye and print as well as in collections of their work kept in several
archives which offer accurate insights into how they worked.

Barron and Larcher were part of the English revival of hand block printing that followed the
second Post Impressionist Exhibition in 1912, organised by the artist and critic Roger Fry.
There was a powerful resurgence of activity in the British Arts and Crafts movement, with an
emphasis on traditional modes of production, which led directly to the formation of the Omega
Workshop community of artists by Fry and the development of several other important
communities and groups of collaborative workers between the two wars and after, including
Enid Marx, Paul Nash, the Footprints group, Crysede, Cresta, Susan Bosence and Yately
Industries. Their printed textiles embraced the eclecticism of modernity through movements
such as Vorticism, with an emphasis on movement through image and its abstraction on cloth.
Barron and Larcher’s work, combining traditional production methods of hand block printing
and vegetable dyeing with their avant-garde designs, attracted substantial commissions from a
range of wealthy and influential clients. Although their strict adherence to traditional handmade
production methods limited the volume of their output, it did not diminish the range or
diversity of their designs. The significance of their work in contemporary art was recognised by
critics like Roger Fry who commented in Vogue (1926) that ‘something of the native grain
survives in these stuffs.. some vital quality that has not been pressed and stamped and tortured.’
At a recent reading there were a couple of women knitting in the audience as I read. It was
wonderful. I read one of my poems ‘Hand Knits’ to them as a sort of offering. The faint dolphin
clicks of the needles resonated with the sound of my own voice. What more could I ask -
except for it to be repeated!


Bibliography

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Barron, Phyllis, ‘My Life as a Block Printer’, unpublished transcript taken by Heather Tanner of a talk given at
Dartington, April 1964.
Barron, Phyllis,The Block Printing Of Cover Paper, Dryad Handicrafts, Leicester, 1928.
Bosence, S.,
Hand Block Printing & Resist Dyeing, David & Charles, 1985
Coatts, M.,
A Weaver’s Life, Ethel Mairet 1872 - 1952, Crafts Study Centre, Bath, 1983.
Fry, R., in
Vogue, 1926
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