Dulverton preview

This weekend I made an arduous but worthwhile trip back to Exmoor for a local preview of my work from the Triparks residency. I had 5 portraits of local people wearing my Exmoor National Dress and also my 20 minute film of the project, which met with much amusement from the locals who recognised their friends dressing up and looking daft.

Themes : costume, Exmoor, cibachrome, portrait

'One scene shot inside a freezer'

Last week was a hectic but very satisfying one, bringing my Exmoor National Dress project to fruition. I was taking a series of portraits of local people and making a short film about the process. There was a lot of zooming across moors down into valleys, in glorious sunshine. Just the ticket after a wet summer.
Here's myself (uncharacteristically holding the boom) with my crew, Alex Richardson (on camera) and Sacha Atkinson (Sound). The picture was taken by Steph Thomas, our great production assistant for the shoot, who used the time between locations to work on a very thorough risk assessment which ranged from 'attack by animals' to 'one scene shot inside a freezer'.

Themes : film, Exmoor, Porlock

Little Prince of Exmoor

Herbie Abraham (5 years old) has to be sweetly bribed by his mum Rachael, to put on the Exmoor National Dress for my photo. The cost, a trip to the local shop for a comic. Me and Herbie part company happy.

Who wears the crown?!

In Tom’s living room on the eve of the Exmoor National Dress shoot, I sit down opposite him and try and discuss a price for the unique and beautiful headdress he has made for me from antlers. Though initially very reluctant to get involved with the project, it becomes clear that Tom is quietly thrilled with the ‘crown’ and sad to part with it. He describes how hard it was to find just the right antlers and how he lay in bed at night awake, turning over its construction in his head. He is in his eighties and will not make such a novel and complex thing again.
Neither of us is very comfortable with the negotiation, but after my persistent assurances that the piece will be treasured we agree a price. I give him as much cash as I have on me, and we shake hands on the outstanding sum owed. I drive off into the night with it cushioned on the passenger’s seat beside me.

Themes : costume, Exmoor, antlers, red deer

Dressage?

Michaela welcomes us into her Aga-warmed kitchen. It’s a little chaotic and we move on quickly as her husband wants to get on with his jam making. The crew and I have all removed our muddy boots at some length, but we’re very rapidly putting them back on again as it becomes clear Michaela isn’t prepared to don the Exmoor National Dress herself. She would prefer her Exmoor pony (pedigree name Galaxy something something) to do so. Unquestioningly we find ourselves in the paddock filming Michaela’s game attempts at getting the capricious beast to keep the costume on long enough for us to get a decent shot.

Themes : Exmoor pony

House of Webber

Eileen Webber’s house at Wheddon Cross used to be the workplace and home of one of the village’s tailors, the family she married in to. Now mainly a farming family, Webbers of all generations spread across Wheddon Cross and beyond. During my research I have met many of them and they have inspired the Exmoor National Dress.
My unannounced visit (I do a lot of those on Exmoor) interrupts Eileen’s morning baking, but nevertheless I can hardly stop her from getting the Dress on for a try-out in the kitchen. Soon her son Roger joins us, an engaging farmer who’s much involved in local planning and has just visited my home turf, the Lake District, in that capacity. Like many of the Webber family, he has startling eyes set in his ruddy complexion, and in a gentlemanly way swaps his hay-covered sweater for a smarter pullover. Gamely, he chooses to wear the cape with the ‘hunting scene’ print, and gladly poses with his mother in front of the Aga. He then gives me a delightful tour of the house, which retains many signs of its past as a workshop. They still have the ‘log book’ in which his tailor grandfather noted down his sales and also his outgoings – not only fabrics but the occasional musical instrument sent down from London.
I make a proposal to Eileen and Roger: when the photographs I’m taking return to Exmoor for the exhibition, could we put the Exmoor National Dress itself in their front window, the one that used to be the tailor’s shop window? Would they mind a little bit of extra traffic, and people gazing through the window for a few weeks? Eileen is concerned about getting the windows washed beforehand but they both like the idea.
Before I leave Eileen presses two freshly baked rock buns into my hands for the train journey home. They’re delicious.

Themes : Exmoor, Wheddon Cross, tailor

Exmoor Uniform

On the train is a group of incredibly young-looking soldiers, probably on their way home for the first well-earned leave, still in smart but oversized uniforms. They still have teenage acne and I’m surprised they have managed to legally buy lager in the train buffet. They’re high spirited, but one of them – a girl – eventually quietens and breaks away from the laddishness and rummages in her kit bag at some length. Eventually she draws out a little bag of brand new Chanel cosmetics and spends the rest of the journey silently engaged in her make-up.

Themes : Exmoor, uniform

Sneak preview

Without wanting to give the game away on what the actual costume looks like, here is a wee detail of the finished Exmoor National Dress, just about to get its final pressing before being wrestled into a garment bag for its trip down West tomorrow.
I am looking forward to photographing and filming on Exmoor later this week with it - and have been busy planning who and where. Confirmed locations include Cutcombe Cattle market where we hope to upstage the Charolet crosses...
Thanks to Phil Shepherd at Somerset Film who has helped organise the film crew of Alex Richardson and Sacha Atkinson

Themes : costume, Exmoor, Somerset, Somerset Film

King of Exmoor

I was delighted to drop in to Tom Lock's workshop in Hawkridge, after talking to a nice gang of Somerset artists at the 'Reveal' event recently.
I had asked Tom to consider making a 'head-dress' for the Exmoor National Dress a while back, but as his lifetime retrospective (at Hawkridge Show, see pic) was absorbing all his time he declined....But I know real no from a 'well....no' and I had a feeling he was going to come up with something.
Here Tom is modelling the prototype - it will eventually have little antlers in declining size all the way round. The head-dress 'ring' is made of 4 or 5 curved antler pieces carefully glued and sanded, it's quite a feat to find suitably curved pieces let alone to fix them together. What I especially like is the front-most horn, which Tom describes as "freaky" - its a tiny straight horn emerging from a misshapen, bony nugget. He'd had it for years, finding it useless for most of his work, but now has a good use for the freaky!
I tried it on and can confirm that it's actually comfy too....

Themes : Exmoor, antler, crown

Vestiarium Exmoorium?

Enjoying reading about the 'invention' of tartan as Scotland's national dress....
I knew of Sir Walter Scott's involvement in its 're-invention' for the King's first Scottish visit post the Jacobite rebellion (after which tartan wearing was banned for all but the military). Scott - who was a megacelebrity at the time - was given the job of organising the monarch's visit to Edinburgh. (This might be like David Beckham getting the job of organising the Queen's last Jubilee - imagine.)
Anyhow, Scott decided that mass tartan would look fabulous lining the streets and thus a trend was born, with the king apparently decked out in salmon pink trews (thats skintight trousers to you) in a bid to bond with this Scottish subjects.Hmm.
It turns out though, that Scott was more of a purist than I thought. Two brothers - the Sobieski Stuarts- predated Scott's trendsetting by publishing a copy of a spurious 'found' manuscript - the Vestiarium Scoticum. This fake supposedly verified the lineage of clan tartans, and also their own claims to the Stuart royal bloodline. The Frasers of Lovat even built them a villa on their island, Eilean Aigas, where they lived it up for quite a while in Highland style (the house and island was recently for sale BTW).
Scott publicly rebuked these claims and the veracity of the book, and though the brothers' reputations suffered, the book (and the brothers' lifelong mania for all things Scottish) remains influential on Scottish identity and culture to this day.

Themes : costume, national dress, tradition, Scottish identity

Powers of persuasion

Today I tried to convince the nearest tattoo artist to Exmoor to contribute to the Exmoor National Dress project -with some difficulty!
I don't usually cold-call people I'd like to work with, I much prefer to meet in person, but circumstances mean that's hard for me to do at the minute so phone it had to be.
Neil at Under the Gun in Minehead sounded great, but he tried in vain to dissuade me as I listened to the sound of his needle on the go (tell me thats a hands-free set Neil) but I did my best to talk him into tattooing a pair of nice leather gaiters I have - maybe with an Exmoor pony I suggested. After a lot of 'no' I asked if he'd tatoo my arm with an Exmoor pony, when he said of course, I had found the chink in his armour! We left it that I could pop in next time I'm down to see what he can do with them - which I will certainly take him up on....

Themes : Exmoor, tattoo, Minehead

Smocking - but not as we know it

Today I finally knuckled down to some (dress) making, something I have a love / hate relationship with ever since the hell-and-back 10 day lock-in when Nina and I had to make our Tudor costumes for our last film. Let's draw a veil over just how long it took to get even the basics right for 1578 - well, all I can say is you try and design a fitted bodice without darts or lycra....
So - back to Exmoor National Dress - this lovely print on canvas donated to the project by Exmoor painter Maurice Bishop appeared simply as an Elvis-style cape at Dunster Show but I thought I'd better explore other treatments, so attempted my first bit of smocking with it this afternoon...
I think it's rather too stiff but nevertheless it's an interesting effect...

Themes : costume, Exmoor, smocking

Done and dusted at Dunster

We had a great time at the annual Dunster Show on Friday, the sun shone, the animals got rosettes and Harald and I got lots of good feedback on our projects. Harald displayed two painted tea towels and offered free portraits on apples, whilst I put some of the artefacts collected during my costume research, onto a mannequin and hoped for the best ;-)
Thanks to all who supported the stand, and especially Chris Miles of Porlock for her loan of a lovely hand-made smock! Some pictures here.

Dean of Dulverton

Nearly since my arrival on Exmoor people of all ages had been saying 'Have you heard of Dean Thomas?' when I mentioned the Exmoor National Dress idea.
Dean is a young fashion designer originally from Dulverton, who made a name for himself at his recent St Martin's degree show, with a collection of superb (and I found out, all his own handiwork) tailoring, based around the theme of Exmoor 'cultural icon' Lorna Doone and using many local materials.
The Collection is on show this week in the town's Guildhall, and the opening night was mobbed, though I managed to get close enough to the pieces to realise that here was a guy who knew his stuff - there's loads of exquisite details that refer to English historic dress, but also a contemporary slant with neon paint and some quite radical cutting.
The next morning I returned to meet Dean there with the hope of talking him into getting involved in my project. His lovely parents were helping clear up the empty wine bottles whilst we chatted, so watch this space to see where we might be able to take it.....

Themes : costume, Exmoor, Dean Thomas, fashion

Exmoor says yes

I'm feeling very pleased that so far - touch wood - everyone I talk to about my Exmoor National Dress project has been helpful and interested. If only all projects were like this.
Peg at the great Allerford Rural Life Museum is orginally a Londoner and now chair of the museum, which is one of those eccentric places where the labels are often bigger than the exhibit. In the Victorian school room part of the museum she drew out the basics of smocking on a bit of paper, making it sound as easy as pie, and promised to keep her ear to the ground for me. It reminded me of a Readers Digest book I hope my mum still owns, which as a child I perused on rainy days for the sheer wonderment of the smocking and plaiting instructions.
Maybe now it might seem as easy as Peg promises.
As an aside, I now realise that as a child of the 70's I was surrounded by the 'folk revival' and Victoriana ephemera of that decade, pamphlets on corn dolly-making, tie-dying projects in Jackie magazine, The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady. My parents were not remotely into this stuff but still it was pervasive at the time, and as a ludicrously resourceful child (and in the West Coast of Scotland, with many rainy afternoons on my hands) I got up to all sorts trying to make vegetable dyes, sew ragdolls and press flowers.

Themes : Exmoor, rural life, smocking, Allerford, Purlock

Live landscape painting

I’m quite worried about meeting Maurice Bishop. With his massively successful Exmoor galleries groaning with affordably priced local landscape paintings and prints, I expect him to be a rapier-sharp businessman, fiercely protective of his product and disinterested in other artists like me, trying to talk him into fancy conceptual projects. Carol assures me he’s known to be approachable and really rather nice, but it doesn’t reassure me that asking him to give me a few of his prints to cut and stitch them – won’t offend.
Lynemouth is not what I’m used to on Exmoor. An undeniably lovely old-fashioned seaside village reached via a deeply carved road (seaside thatch, I’ve never seen that before), there are suddenly hoardes of tourists ambling about with icecreams. I ask where Maurice’s studio is at one of the attractions, a model railway layout. The layout has an impressive innovation (I know a thing or two about railway modelling but that’s another story) in its chimneys excuding an ectoplasm made of Christmas tree ‘angel hair’ tufts.
Anyhow, the attendant answers as if I have just asked a Londoner ‘Excuse me, you wouldn’t happen to know if I’m in the right city for Buckingham Palace?’. Apparently you can’t miss the studio. I realise that contrary to my expectations, Maurice isn’t hidden away in a clifftop studio but is on the main drag amidst the fish and chip shops. When I arrive he’s actually working on a new canvas in his gallery window. Actually in the window, for all to see.
Five minutes later I’m walking away from the studio with a ‘shop-soiled’ canvas under my arm to try out. Apparently a duck had flown into his gallery, landed in the blue paint on his palette and proceeded to daub all the nearby prints.

Themes : landscape painting

Cherry picking

On my first day back in Exmoor, the Archers Omnibus distracts me enough to have me haring off down one road in precisely the opposite direction than intended. A bonus is that I glimpse a ‘Cherries for sale’ sign, and having just heard a radio show championing this most fleeting of summer fruits I decide to pay the farm a call. The place is delightful in an Enid Blyton-esque way, well-kept orchards of apples and cherries and barnfuls of traditional fruit boxes. Living as I do on an inhospitable (to fruit, that is) windswept northern mountain, I brimmed over with envy at all this bounty and sunshine. I entered the deserted ‘shop’ barn to find a disappointing sign ‘Due to the weather, no cherries until Monday’. On sale there were two punnets of plums and some very rudimentary plastic bottles of home-made scrumpy. I realised I had only notes in my purse, but quashed my slight irritation at the lack of the promised fruit and the inevitable overspend ahead. Looking around more carefully, I found there were unpriced punnets of split cherries abandoned on the scales. I tasted one, they were very sweet, but clearly not intended for sale.
I put together a bag of items that I thought would cost about a tenner (including the split cherries) and left the owner a note by his till.
As I left he appeared at the shop door, and regaled me with a long story of the year’s disasterous cherry crop – good for nothing but schnapps now; the greed of the supermarkets and the impossibility of attracting pickers, with all the health & safety regulations.

“Give me a call when you want to buy the place off me” was his parting shot.
Don’t tempt me, I thought.

Themes : orchard

The season's count

Staghunting with hounds still occurs in Exmoor, and the Devon & Somerset Staghounds live in a large complex near the village of Exford, a perfect cream tea stopover.
Before refeshments, I swung by the kennels in my hire car, and after an initial wave of howls and barks, the hounds returned to silence as I knocked on various doors around the building.
No-one was in - I'll try again on my next visit.

Poor cow

One of the highlights of my last visit to Exmoor was visiting Will, who looks after the hounds of the Minehead Harriers based in Wootton Courtenay.
Will was generous with his time and knowledge.
I was surprised by how the economics of the hunt works - basically what are fundamentally voluntary donations from riders at each 'meet' finance the whole caboodle, augmented by the payments farmers make to the hunt for providing the much needed 'flesh round' services. It's impressive.Right by his house, Will spent the morning expertly butchering discarded livestock from local farms to feed the hounds. The premises were given to the hunt by the fabulous-sounding 'Miss Lillo Lumb', but beyond the idyllic exterior is a grim but neccessary service absolutely integral to the fabric of Exmoor farming.
At one point a local horse breeder dropped by to deliver the carcasses of twin foals who had died in birth. He was full of sadness, one was a beautiful colour that he had been breeding towards for years.

See here for an interesting oral history archive about Exmoor hunting

Themes : hunting Exmoor livestock

A Hallelujah Hi-de-hi

Scooped out of the boundary of Exmoor National Park is the lovely old-fashioned seaside town of Minehead, and along its promenade sits a Butlins holiday camp.

Like many Britons these places are enduringly associated for me with a 1950’s kind of what my parents would call rather ‘common’ - harmless all-inclusive fun. I am suprised but pleased that they survive into the 21st century, but I had literally no idea what to expect as a daytrip visitor. I certainly didn’t expect the frankly massive ticket prices displayed in the entrance pavilion. They seemed high considering that from my viewpoint the windswept funfair wasn’t ‘on’ and a Burger King sign was visible.
I hastily introduced ourselves as just visiting artists wanting to have a look about. Once I had assured them we didnt want to film anything, we were waived in, though not without a slight sense of surveyance.

The main space was a vast canvas tent structure accommodating many highstreet shops and eating places. The roof was impressively engineered and satisfyingly referenced the joyful ‘big top’ / camping references of early Butlins.
Children and young familes quietly and politely queued at the Burger King, they smiled at us as we walked around, calm pervaded what had promised at first glance to be my idea of hell.

It transpired we had walked in to a vast Christian conference filling the entire camp, and as today was ‘changeover day’ our slightly bewildered appearance raised no suspicion. The ‘trade stalls’ exhibited everything from Christian banking services to Evangelical rock schools, no hard sell of course as their occupants believed they were preaching to the converted. I discovered that 80’s diva Yazz had transformed into a hip Christian songstress.

Beyond this pleasure dome were the facilties and accommodation for the ‘campers’. I tried to pick up my email but found the wifi was not free.
Eclectic architecture akin to low-rise student housing sat within neat garden spaces. A small sub-Corbusier Modernist pavilion turned out to be a very recent addition, built as a marketing suite for the camp’s proudest achievement – a upmarket timeshare apartment block built in convincing art deco style. An enthusiastic young salesman appreciated our appreciation of the camp’s classier aspirations.

The crowds thinned out as we walked along the oldest accommodation blocks, endearing 50’s bunglalows with deep eaves, being cleaned by East Europeans. To my satisfaction, we noticed through their low windows that some of the Christians had left their beds unmade.

Abruptly, at the end of one of these avenues, stood a small but substantial white-washed chapel of the style one could see in a small Eastern European village. Pan-tiled roof, small bell-tower, checkered floor tiles. We hesitantly entered. Inside, a small table with a photograph of a young woman, but no campers.