Christine Wiltshier

4 July 2023

StoryFest Vice-President **Jennifer Jackson** discovered by happy accident the **Knitting is … Experimental** solo exhibition held at the Incinerator Art Space, Willoughby NSW in March. We wanted to know more - so we went direct to the source!

We’re delighted to share the results in this month’s blog post, in which artist-researcher **Christine Wiltshier** explores her fascination for the often-hidden stories told by imperfections…

I am an artist-researcher with a fascination for the imperfect, the generative potential of mistakes and errors, and the often-hidden stories behind their creation. I explore this fascination, in my studio practice, through experimenting with conventional written instructions used in traditional textile making systems such as hand knitting. As part of this practice I search for interesting knitting patterns, usually for the making of socks.

Whilst exploring the amazing female dominated time capsule that is Meroogal House Museum, on the south coast of NSW, I was told that one of the Thorburn sisters, Belle, was an accomplished knitter and that the museum held a hand-written copy of instructions for knitted socks. I set about deciphering Belle’s instructions and handwriting for working ‘in the round’ using four needles, a new experience for me. Needless to say, many, many mistakes resulted and as I prefer not to unravel I experimented with material or tool substitutions to mark each mistake.

Examples of this process are seen in my resulting (im)Perfect Socks artworks.

Belle’s wonderful piece of domestic history also led me to research the role of knitting in Australia during the First World War. I became interested in how the newspapers of the time promoted the knitting of socks as part of the war effort and a way for those left at home, women and children mainly, to provide some comfort for ‘our boys’ fighting on the front line. Alongside this call out for hand knitted socks, were articles strongly berating incompetent knitters for sending in imperfect socks. These rejects, the articles stated, required expert knitters to waste time unmaking and remaking socks before they were fit for purpose. As I struggled to interpret and make with Belle Thorburn’s incomplete knitting instructions, my thoughts kept returning to those rejected socks and especially to the women and children who made them.

Knitting has a strong affinity with nurture. To make a knitted garment is in effect, to create a second skin. A protective textile skin that invisibly holds the caring thoughts and wishes of the maker, whether the recipient is known or not.

It is obvious that well-made socks were essential to protect the feet of soldiers in the trenches. For me however the berating of the makers, and especially the unmaking of their imperfect socks, was to discard the trials and tribulations that came with these sock-offerings, and the outpouring of love, fear, hope and loss that became embedded in their knitted form.

The artworks, (im)Perfect Socks, that evolved from Belle Thorburn’s incomplete instructions is a homage to these war time sock makers whose efforts, although imperfect and discarded were infused with love.

Note: I created the title of this piece by modifying a statement found in The Richmond River Express and Casino Kyogle Advertiser, 1916, which reads ‘If you would be a knitter of socks be a perfect one, or pass on your wool to someone more experienced’.