While facing the limitation of space, and as the ideas continue to flow there is another limitation that provides me with an emotional and tangible boundary for getting to the essence of this croning period specific to Jan’s personal life. It helps to work with one image at a time: the moon phases in the southern hemisphere is the starting point. The phases of the moon visually embody the three major stages of a woman’s life: the Virgin girl, the birthing, nurturing Mother, and the wise woman Crone. Typically they are defined by the powerful stages of female sexual activity, as the names suggest. But the crone image seems to have forfeited – or more accurately, been deprived of her power in recent culture, leading her to be seen as a disempowered and withered woman, often taking on the negative attributes of the bitter, backward old witch who is out of touch. She is maligned and condemned not only as being out of date, but claimed to be malicious towards others in her community and society, for which she has been burned at the stake over hundreds of years.
Having recognised the overriding influence of these imposed attributions, largely unreported for centuries and uncontested except by courts designed to confirm women’s guilt for sins against Christianity, whether they be virgin, mother or old wise woman. All were hounded by Christian governmental authorities unequivocally for adhering to their practices and rituals honouring an integral and undeniable dependability on the bounty of Earth. Of course while the younger women were subjected to enforced marriage or rape for maintaining and gaining male supremacy, the old were vulnerable to the pillaging of their landholdings by the religious and civic authorities.
So, back to the moon imagery for these three stages. An older representation of the dark moon that had been saved from a previous project provided the initial impetus. A full dark moon sitting on a dark red background, both hand dyed, seemed to be a good place to start. It was a case of deciding whether to included a visible impact for the last stages of the moon as it wanes, unable to be seen from most positions on earth. Being intent on including the Virgin crescent moon, the full red moon of the Mother has allowed the rightful places of both Virgin and Crone, with each embracing the other, residing comfortably within each other within the all encompassing arms of the Mother.
Searching for a piece of pure white fabric for the virgin crescent of the moon, my object was to find a shining pure white, suitable for a wedding dress, to represent virginity. Of course the phases of the moon are a monthly reminder of the renewal of virginity, which is always with us in our lives. Coming from this realisation, I stopped searching for the perfect fabric, instead choosing a small available piece of cream cotton printed with small flower sprigs – perfect for the new moon. The crescent of the new moon has a larger shape than that of the waning, something that indicates the continuance of life through women’s fertility, she who as virgin, then becomes mother, to move into the later stages of life as a wise old woman, having left her genealogy for future generations.
The full dark disc at the centre of the three-moon image seems to pull the eye into the quilt – into the Cosmos beyond our sight, understanding and knowledge. The life of every individual is a cycle, where the circles overlap as vectors holding all of life’s wonders and pain. Each aspect seems to lean into and hold the others, but the interesting aspect of the union of the three resides in the dark centre. The moon phases provide the key symbol for the quilt that celebrates a life of living with love and learning, reciprocal giving and receiving. There are other symbols that have come to mind to be in line with Jan’s request for Irish/Celtic connections
Sheela na gig and the Callieach
It’s amazing where inspiration comes from. Looking into the bottom of a vase after its use holding a cloud of golden fimbriata wattle from the garden, I saw the almond mandorlas shape that I’d been intending to somehow include in the design. I glanced across at the little quilt’s moon phases, and realised the black of the full dark moon held that shape, the darkness of the fecund womb, that could simply be sketched into the space by stitching – maybe using a red thread. I wonder: could I hand stitch it with a thicker thread? I had been thinking of drawing the triple spiral into this space, so now there’s another option.
Caves have been found in eastern European areas that indicate a ritual of respect – maybe worship that acknowledges the Earth Mother, the virgin and the eternity of the womb for the continuance of human life.
The Utroba cave, also know as the ‘womb cave’ is such a destination, a ritual that involves entering into the dark recesses of the cave in order to maintain life, while paying tribute to the pleasure-giving clitoris protruding above the entrance. From what I read, these natural temples of worship and honour to woman are not uncommon across the European continent, and may serve to remind us that we come from the womb of Mother Earth, and to Her we return in death.
Although this image of the Sheela carved in stone has also been found throughout Europe, her image is prevalent and has lasted on churches in Ireland. Well, who is she? What dominates is a woman’s vulva that she is holding open with both hands, arms looped behind her thighs. Perhaps it is quite confronting in this day and age, in spite of the plethora of pornography available. What does she represent? There are very probable theories in the Christian era that it was designed to be a warning about where the sins of the flesh for the ‘faithful’, obviously initiated by women. Remember also Pandora’s box (there seems to be a pun there), or her ‘vase’ that supposedly poured out all the evils in the world?
The image of the Sheela holds within the traditions of the past, present and future, and is the kindly guardian of entrance into the Underworld. The ability to draw aside the veils and see between the worlds with the heart and soul is to see that which is invisible to our eyes or what lies beneath the visible, thereby animating the creative forces for change through an enhanced intuition and insight.
The Triskelion (triple spiral)
The triple spiral is found on so many of the monuments – specifically at Newgrange where it adorns the entrance stone, but most significantly was carved into the stone of the mound’s interior chamber so as to be lit up by the first rays of each year’s summer solstice. Hence it signalled new beginnings, the promise of a resurrection of the old life afforded by the constant natural cycle: life death and rebirth. The cycles as experienced in nature, can represent repetition, progress and major changes.
There are other ways of reading this special symbol, an iconic ancient Celtic symbol. Relationships for example, between the growth of the self, both outer and the inner: the individual, the Universe and the spiritual worlds, and the movement between each out from the still point at the centre. As a revolving wheel it represents the three stages in a woman’s life, as do the phases of the moon, the virginal, the nurturing mother and the old wise crone.
Mother Ocean and her seashells.
Walking across shells on the beach, who can resist picking them up for a closer look? Remember the wonder of holding a seashell to your ear as a child? It’s not an echo of your own blood pumping, as sometimes is given as an explanation. It is thought that the shell is collecting the ambient noises in the air around. And what are these noises, where do they emanate from? Is it the echoing of the wider universe through the spiral chamber? The ocean as the origin of life on our planet is surely a mix of countless aeons of time held in each.
It is not difficult to accept that sea water was very important to the Celts of Ireland, being the fourth largest island in the world. Their indigenous stories are similar to Australian Indigenous lore, that women are of the sea while men are of the land, and everything is interrelated, everything. Shells have held currency, exchange value in many Pacific societies. Shells also have a personal value for many, of holding memories of place and connections to place that transcend time. As children we played with a string of tiny purple spiral shells threaded as a necklace. Such a necklace was a talisman for the Tasmanian aborigines, my mother and father’s place of birth, each a descendant of immigrants and convicts.
Perhaps unconsciously they remind us of departed souls. Having recently washed my collection after years of gathering dust, I see there are those that are tiny, small and then larger. Each of them is outstanding, in shape, colours and cover designs. I am in awe of the homes our Mother Ocean has produced for the tiny organisms beginning life in the raging unfathomable oceans, as tiny, vulnerable creatures housed by external protective skeletal structures, at once delicate, strong and resilient. Shells are the remnants of a life once lived, and symbolise safe passage for the soul in death. I used to own a fossil, found in Israel, a small nautilus, unfortunately stolen. It was in the form of a spiral, shaped by the chambers that are added by the growing mollusc. I don’t know how long ago this one had been a living sea creature. It is no wonder that these shells are symbols of growth and renewal in the process of finding our true spiritual purpose in life. They are beautiful gifts from the natural world that have withstood the ocean tides for millennia. It is no wonder then that they offer protection from the harshness of the various environments that challenge us on our journey.
Seashells have hard exteriors with soft vulnerable creatures living inside, and offer protective homes for small crabs when their original dweller passes on. They draw their power from the elements of water and the earth on which they live. They can stand for the resilient and determined mindset capable of bridging the gap between the physical and supernatural realms, offering a safe passage for our souls from this world. They can be seen as symbolic of a woman’s genitalia, the life cycle, fertility and love. Shells are the memory of a life lived and the journey that creature went through, and empty shells found on the beach is a reminder of a life, left behind in death when the soul leaves the body.
The conch has been used in ritual celebrations for millennia by magnifying the natural vibrations of the earth and to rid the space of negative energies. Cowrie shells are often used in divination by making connection with the ancestors where the split down the side represents the opening of the third eye. The scallop shell has many ridges that all join together at the bottom, suggesting focus on the goal ahead. They there are many spiritual pathways to the one destination: our ultimate connection to earth. The long pointy augur shell clearing relates to our masculine energy, to strength courage and resilience. They help achieve mental clarity through trusting our intuition.
A debate often arises about the amount of control being exercised by the artist in the process of creating. If hesitation can be used as one of the counter arguments by either side, I have been experiencing much of it in the creation of this tiny quilt. I cannot put my finger on the reason, other than due to the flood of ideas arising in the limitation of space – and perhaps, of time: everything has to come to a conclusion at some stage! While the symbols gestate, the background canvas continues to be created. Maybe this is the point where I should have started – but that’s not how my creative process works; it decides its own way, its own steps towards completion regardless of my input. It’s generally much more haphazard, by randomly sorting through saved fabrics according to colour and that may be significant to the theme and design than when it is to cut to a planned pattern.
Uncertainty is never absent in life in general. Why is the cut out of the red waratah flower still sitting there? It seems to be demanding inclusion, in the same way that the single white, almost skeletal tree does so. Both have been considered for inclusion, having been part of previous works. Sometimes there is an insistence – though it can take time for me to accept the suggestion after it arises. It is one of those times when the need for decision hangs about, remaining elusive, postponing any further action for the moment. Then, as if for no reason, something happens to prompt an action. It is not so much a considered decision as an impulsive action to take a step towards completion. Both the waratah and the tree outline find a place in the areas where they are feeling comfortable. Having come to this point, the backing, quilting and binding can bring completion – almost!
There is one final stage needed for the completion of ideas and image. It slightly scares me because it involves making marks onto a strip of fabric that is already embodied in the bound work. As marks having been etched into stone on monuments in Ireland, they seem to be drawing forth a suitable title, one that is related to signs in time from over five millennia ago to resonate with a life of learning and wisdom gained over a life. But on the day of finishing the little quilt off with final touches – that included a small Southern Cross, the need to make the final decision of naming seems to intuitively filter through. The quilt is a celebration of the mystery that is life, the cycle of generation and regeneration. Hence, its name: Celebrating Mystery. The name is inscribed on a cauldron, a practical item and symbol representing the Magic that is death re-generating life, embossed with the Sheela-na-gig that I’d cut out from a pair of my socks that had outworn their usefulness. What joyful fun this has been in the creation and celebration of a special and loved Crone’s life!
