So the results have been rolling in by email for Selected/Unselected and we have been as a group on facebook on the edge of our creative seats to see if we have made the cut for the 2015 World of WearableArt Show. As one put it: 'I have wine ready either way and my husband has half packed his bags just in case he has to keep his distance for a few days lol'. And it's like that. People all over New Zealand and the world have been feverishly working away for months to get into this now very prestigious international show. It can be stress inducing and we have all been in high states of anxiety.
I tell a lie; I haven't been very anxious at all. Not this year.I've have been in the past- and burst into tears on the one time I didn't get into show. Out of 22 entries, that's a pretty good run. I made it mean all sorts of things but mostly I was just embarrassed that ME the stalwart and veteran of the show did something the judges didn't click with. Quel horreur! Sacre Bleu and all the other less printable epithets.
I put myself in the firing line each year with books and awards and Wearable Art shows You can go down a hole with both. You don't start out making your art to win awards and you know, none of them matter really. This is why:
I attended both my father's funeral last year (he died during the wow season and I attended the award show with my phone down my bra waiting for the call to say he had passed, whilst my sister held his hand), and my brother in law's funeral this past week (46, a car accident). One death was expected but no less painful to those left than the other unexpected one.
Not getting your 'baby' into the show or book into a national award can feel like a death. That's only because it seems like the end of possibility; recieving congratulations, the dressing up for the show, the frisson of excitement that you might actually get to walk up on that stage and recive an award = fame = money. But it's not a death. It's not final. In the same way that my father and brother in law have gone from this world, but they live on through their children. The things learned carry on.
I learned about appreciating who my father had been in this world. I also learned making wood grain patterns on EVA foam, using latex to stabilise paint, getting custom printed fabric from Spoonflower (I cannot love this site more if I tried). I had fun dressing up my models, getting photos done and sending it off. I had a clear idea of what I wanted to convey, and I conveyed it. It was a homage to my father who was a fighter pilot in his day. He loved flying more than anything (except his family perhaps). When Peg & Dolly come home to me, I will send the dress to my little grand niece for dress ups, and take the rest of it apart. The fabric will become cushions for my mum and my sisters and I shall mount the wings on the wall in a frame- they were replicas of my fathers RAF ones.
Here it is- starts off as a girl (Peg) and her peg doll (Dolly) who she helps transform into a plane with her head being the engine and propellor and her legs forming the wings- together they can fly!
And...it didn't get in. But that's o.k, because my father's spirit lives on :)
Late breaking news: another garment that I have worked on collaboratively with Josiene Van Maarseeven HAS got in. In the Weta Section, so we are thrilled. Can't show you pictures until after opening night though. This is her first time and I loved working with her- in fact, we are carrying on and doing some commercial projects together. She is an amazing pattern maker and sewer with superb attention to detail. Gotta love a team!
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