I collected some beautiful skeleton leaves, very fragile, the last breath of life left in them. On this occasion, by the river, I am very pleased to say there was no visible litter, although I picked up some rusty metal, weeds and some silt.

Using the intricacies of the collected natural elements, the skeleton leaves, and drawing on their fragile beauty, weaving in layers of meaning and resilience, and collaborating with the open water and the bright sunlight we are experiencing at the moment (June 2025), I managed to create some different textures and marks during the process of developing the cyanotypes, this time on fabric. Stained with the water and sediment, inviting the river itself, again, to become part of the creative process, embedding its presence into the work. The sifted water carries particles of silt, organic matter and traces of pollution, all of which tells a story within itself. The silt is what is left behind after the flooding and is an important part of the process.

The sunlight is a source of renewal, turning what we have into something new, repairing and healing. There was quite a chemical reaction from the heat of the sun which formed a layer of condensation between the fabric and the sheet of perspex I used to cover them, some beautiful shapes and textures started to emerge. By using fabric the chemicals were much harder to manipulate, I didn’t manage to achieve so many stages as I do with the paper.

The first piece of fabric was quite a dark blue with just a small hint from the rust. This piece was quite fluid and reminiscent of flowing water. There is a small hint of the outline of the leaves, however not intricate detail.

I wanted to re-use the leaves, although so delicate, they survived and had some of the cyanotype dye mixed in with them. They were a greenish colour from the chemicals.

Using these without rinsing them, and trying to keep as much as possible of the liquid, this gave the next pieces a green hue.

And so they developed, being left in the sun for a good few hours.

The final pieces all rinsed through with the river water. There was a lot less definition when using the fabric, these pieces were more watery and textural rather than actually being able to see the collected matter.

Thinking about my experiences and all these fragments that are part of my experience throughout this annual cycle,

Destruction and renewal.

Destroy and recreate.

Find beauty in what has previously been destroyed.

Fresh and fowl.

Order and chaos.

Dark and light.

Winter and summer.

Danger and healing

Trauma and Joy

Destruction and creation.

Love/hate relationship with water,

Despite all this fragmentation something whole again can be recreated, our continuous cycle of life, illustrated in each cyanotype as a unique part of adding to the narrative. I wanted to roughly stitch these torn strips of fabric into a weaving, meandering river. The tearing illustrates the aggression, disruption and untidiness the flooding causes, the roughness of the brightly coloured red stitches, illustrate veins or tributaries, overlapping the fabric to evoke a flow, repairing and healing. Piecing things back together as part of an emotional landscape.

Ripped and stitched. The fabric river was about four meteres long.

Putting it in the water, safely and with no littering. It flowed beautifully, however I did not anticipate it sinking so quickly, the fabric was heavy from the dye.

Reflection

Creating the cyanotype river became a physical experience as well as an artistic one. I went in the open water with the piece to enable taking the best photographs of the work.

Ripping the fabric carried the same sense of disruption and unease that flooding brings. As the pieces are then stitched back together, especially with the vivid red thread, there is a healing shift where the sewing becomes meditative, like tracing the veins of a landscape trying to heal itself.

I hadn’t anticipated how the material would behave in the water and although it sank very quickly, it revealed an unexpected layer of vulnerability and fragility in the work, mirroring how nature itself can be so unpredictable and uncontrollable.

This work was another reminder of how creation can come from destruction. Tearing and stitching, disrupting and mending, the cycle of breaking and rebuilding, reflects both the environmental change and personal resilience. It encouraged me to embrace imperfection and to accept the work as alive and responsive to its surroundings. Appreciating the beauty in the unfinished and undone.

Disrupting and dismantling the fabric is representative of our (my) sense of safety and security. By transforming destruction back into creation it becomes another full circle of piecing things back together.