(this post is in english as it is dedicated til Marthe Armitage. As I’m not used to writing in english, I apologize for errors and hope the meaning still comes out)
I’ve been confused these last days about what to do. It seems I have a lot of opportunities, but can’t figure out how to use them. And today it finally dawned upon me, that it is because I have come to journeys end with something big, but have not given myself time to reflect upon it nor celebrate: I have - after three years work - finally been able to cover the walls of our little garden cottage in my own, handmade wallpaper. But it is not only the beautiful walls, that I want to celebrate. It is also - actually more so - all the things I have learned from the proces.
Falling in love
It all began, when I came across a picture of one of Marthe Armitage’s wallpapers in a magazine. It was love at first sight. The poetic beauty of the leaves and flowers, neat and wild at the same time, the little twists of imperfection in the shape of cobweb and snails, that gave edge to the beauty, and the tactile feel of the linocut … I SO wanted to have just a tiny little scrap of that wallpaper. But I didn’t have anywhere to hang it, as we live in a rented flat.
Then life made it’s little twists and turns and four years ago, just before Christmas, the tiny cottage in our allotment garden burned to the ground. At first devastatingly sad, but then, in time, also the beginning of something new and beautiful. We got insurance money and my husband and I started building a new little house of our dreams. Built by our own hands in honest materials.
And of course I would have one of Marthe Armitage’s wallpapers there. I knew it would be expensive and out of place in a cheap cottage, but it would be worth it.
Then - life again, or perhaps just the irreversible consequences of every building process - as we approached the time for interior, we had run utterly out of money. My husband, who is always very supportive, said I could make my own wallpaper. I said I could not. But as he insisted, something began to bubble within me. Patterns began to take form. Of pictures of plants and insects that we have in our own little garden. A feeling, that even though I would never make anything the like of Marthe Armitage, I might be able, inspired by her, to make something, that would have it’s own magic, as I could fill it with the flora and fauna that surround the little house. And then I began to draw.
Learning to draw and drawing to learn
As a child I would ALWAYS draw. But I had not drawn since I was in High School, and it all came out a bit rusty. However, it couldn’t conceal the feeling, that I had hitherto been standing on one leg, but now I had found the other - and was suddenly able to walk. Something began to flow.
I have always felt split between the academic and the artisan in me. I once aimed to be a designer or tailor, but decided I didn’t like the working conditions of the trade. I have always been drawn to handwork, but could never really figure out what path to take as at craftswoman or artisan. For some reason, I think I’ve always thought material beauty less valuable. That my desire to create pretty things was something that should be overheard, pushed aside as something “silly” or “unnecessary”. Perhaps a confused conclusion of academic snobbism and artistic insecurity.
And so the academic won. I did a master in literature and felt that, having chosen an academic road in life, I was not allowed nor good enough to use my hands nor create visually. I would have to leave that to people, who had chosen that way professionally.
My creative outlet has been writing, and I dedicated my (professional) life to writing children's books. I’m very happy with that decision, but as I started designing and cutting my own wallpaper in lino, I realized how much I have missed using my hands. I felt awake and peaceful when drawing. And I felt happy when creating something, that I found beautiful. It felt like, I had hit a golden ore within myself, a seemingly endless well of ideas for creating. Something, that didn’t block me from writing, but only opened my mind. How silly it was, that I had had to wait more than thirty years before I realized, that I was allowed to draw and paint and sew and create material beauty, just because it made me feel good!
Spaces vs. lines
Working with the pattern also brought crucial insights to the way I work on two other points. First, I learned to work in spaces rather than in lines. I have always written in a very strict, linear way, braiding all plot-threads into a tight line. But that is no longer possible for me, after having suffered from stress, which affects my ability to concentrate. But the rhythm and the endlessness of the repeat pattern has challenged the way I perceive all my work. In a repeat pattern everything is connected. There’s no beginning and no end. And in working with the sketches for the wallpaper I realized, that I could not go from A to B, I would have to let go of control and concentrate on one detail at a time and not worry about the rest - and still it would all add up. In fact, the pattern-making taught me, that there is a rhythm in everything, but not necessarily a beginning and an end. And it turned out, that this more intuitive way of working also made it possible for me to write something, that I no longer thought possible: big, heavy-plotted novels.
The desireble imperfection
Second, having always struggled with perfectionism, in this proces I’ve learned to appreciate the imperfect in my own work - as I realized, that it was partly the imperfections of Marthes wallpaper-art that made it so intriguingly tangible. The little differences between each print, however subtle. So lovable. So desirable. Something, I could really FEEL. The cracks, that let the light in.
Remembering to celebrate - and what I also learned …
Meeting with Marthe Armitages art has, to put it short, been transforming. And so, of course, I need to stop and take time to reflect, perhaps be a little pompous, and celebrate that the wallpaper inspired by her is finally done; I can’t just skip to the next project in line, but must pause to celebrate the beauty it holds to me and the evidence of the proces I’ve gone through. Of everything I’ve learned. About myself, but also about the importance of beauty.
As a final note I feel like mentioning one more thing, I’ve learned: there’s absolutely no money to be saved by making ones own wallpaper :-D in fact, I’m startled that it is at all possible to buy Marthe Armitage’s handprintet artwork at such a subtle price. Look here! Am I not right? I still hope, that I one day shall be able to purchase a few rolls to decorate a room of my own.
The wallpaper with Rose and Clematis is inspired by my two daughters. The eldest, Kirsten, is the rose. Her name has been associated with roses since the danish King Christian 4th build a hideout for his second wife, Kirsten, called Rosenborg. The Clematis Montana I always associate with my youngest daughter, Lise, as my husband brought me one as a present when I gave birth to her. The way the two flowers grow and intertwine is how I see their deep yet complicated affection for each other. And all the little insects they have taught me to love with their childish ability to stop and dwell with excitement at every little wonder of life.