GHH Newspaper Issue 4 Plan August 24 Spreads - Flipbook - Page 12
F R I E N D S O F G U E ST H O U S E
Who makes No. 124 Brighton...
Meet the Makers
Name of Maker: Katie Charleson
Name of pieces: Blush Checks, Dashes and Sail on Silver Girl ii
Where to find: FieldTrip Spa
I have loved creating three wall quilts for FieldTrip Spa, employing a variety
of quilting techniques, printed patterns and grounding colours. These
contrasting elements are unified by my interest in creating satisfying
compositions and rhythmic, shifting textures that draw the viewer in close.
I use the blocky, repetitive nature of screen printing idiosyncratically to
create depth and fluidity, exploring materiality and surface.
For this body of work, I used synthetic cold-water dyes as well as inks and
dyes I brewed from food waste and locally foraged plant matter. I hand
painted the resulting inks directly onto screen, the base fabric and on top of
the printed pigments, to add a depth of colour and fluidity to the structures
and shapes present in the work. Physically breaking down and combining
materials to create colour feels alchemical, and adds a layer of uncertainty
and uniqueness every time the process is approached.
I intend for the audience to be soothed and enveloped by the tactility of the
work, while the physicality of crafting the pieces shines through.
Name of Maker: Richard Rawlins
Name of piece: Jab Jumbie Recoil
Where to find: The staircase leading to Pearly Cow
In this series I drew on my Caribbean heritage (I am Trinidadian) and
research to make totemic drawings of a Trinidad carnival character called
the Moko Jumbie, which I then merged with other carnival characters,
(in this piece, the Jab) that are rooted in the Caribbean experience of
enslavement, indentureship, and migration.
“Moko” means healer in Central Africa and “jumbie” is a colloquial
Caribbean term for a ghost or spirit. In Carnival lore the jumbies are ‘spirits’
that followed the enslaved Africans across the Atlantic to their destinations
in the Caribbean, walking on stilts – and in my imaginings – to the Antilles
and wherever else they eventually resided, creating an African diaspora.
There they watched over us, watched us birthed, watched us toil, watched
us play, watched our pain, sorrow, and our joy, and helped with the process
of healing. Today they are still watching. Today we are still healing.
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GUESTHOUSE
