Three years ago the idea for the felted flock arrived to mind during a walk. “you should felt your flock” was the out of the blue statement that popped to mind. The concept of taking wool from the ewes and using the fibre to create a flock and make handmade versions of scenes of daily living with sheep, was very appealing. Using wool and creativity to present a visual of all that takes place with land and animal in order to grow wool seemed relevant enough to share.
The idea was immediately exciting to me but also immediately too big and too crazy. I dismissed it. The idea persisted and a year later, when I was feeling very stagnant in my other felting work, I conceded too giving it a try because it was, at the least, a change from what I was doing. In hindsight it’s probably prudent to note that at the beginning there was a woeful lack of what lay ahead, and how much the project would shift itself and me before the end. This lack of knowing what lay ahead certainly contributed to me jumping in willingly.
I have been a disciplined task master for a long time. I have the solid habit of getting up early in the morning and doing something I like to do (for me that’s artwork, photography or writing). This served me well with tackling a two year project like the Felted Flock because I didn’t need to form the habit of making time to be creative at the same time that I was trying new creative work. I just needed to tackle learning new work and then keep going. What I didn’t know was how hard the keep going part was going to be.
At the onset, there were several fingerling ideas of how to visually and artistically share the story of what takes place before the fibre we love ever reaches our hands. Some of these micro scenes have been successful in catching attention but a few of these fingerling ideas did not see the light of day because in the midst of the project my momentum faded.
The workload of artist and of farming are alike in how broad they feel. In both endeavours the work is large with an end that keeps receding. I would lose momentum and then get it back and then lose it again. There were days when I lamented having to do the real work with the real sheep because all I wanted to do was felting. And there were days when I all I wanted to do was spend time with the real sheep because I didn’t want to return to felting.
At the start of the project (October 2020) I did not know how to form wool into shape, I was a novice to three dimensional felting and the learning curve is steep. Making the wire armature to proportion was and still is the biggest hurdle.
There were so many early mornings sitting at a table felting sheep; whether for twenty minutes or for two hours, whether in artistic bliss or in sheer frustration at yet another throw away. Recently I placed the first and the 121st sheep made side by side and took a photo.
That photo represents curiosity, refinement, defeat, frustration, persistence, patience, triumph, and growth. All the ways I have been fine tuned right alongside the work. What I never took a photo of is all the characters that landed in the trash.