Weaving Words with Under the Canopy
23/11/23
Members of ‘Under the Canopy’ project have had another busy term at Hollybush Conservation Centre as well as visits to Armley Mills, ‘All that Lives’ at Leeds Playhouse and ‘This is a Forest’ exhibition at Moda Gallery.
Participants have created rain drop patterns, written poems, and made a variety of woven pieces in paper, natural materials and wool, alongside conversation, singing, storytelling, making horse chestnut soap, drinking a range of teas including Matthew’s mulled apple juice (a favourite) and eating the marvellous soups at Hollybush cafe.
Here’s a selection of photos and poems from the last few weeks….
Hollybush Rain Song (after Langston Hughes) – by Yvonne
Taste the sparkling, silver droplets on your tongue,
Touch the warm summer shower on your fingers,
Feel the cool caress of the soft rain on your skin.
The rain hangs the trees with today’s tears.
The rain gurgles and gushes as it rushes to the gutter.
The rain glistens on rooftops and streets
The rain brings life to the dusty soil,
And promotes growth and a promise of harvest,
After the summer sun cracks the earth.
Hollybush Rain Song – by Matthew
Hear the rain as it falls on the roof of the canopy above,
Watch the rain as it pools in the canvas like a miniature lake,
Smell the rain as it drenches the soil and renews the earth.
The rain wets my hair,
The rain washes my face,
The rain cleanses my soul.
I praise the rain for all the gifts it brings,
And keep my fingers crossed that my boots remain waterproof.
Rain Song – by Marlene
Hear the rain pitter patter
Watch the raindrops sliding
Seek the view the mist is hiding
Getting wet it doesn’t matter.
Stair-rods making puddles deeper
Splashing wellies faster faster
Hear the joy in children’s laughter.
Canal Connections – by Yvonne
Ripple-causing, gliding, sliding,
Cormorants flying, swooping, diving,
Canal boat drifting, moving, smoothing,
Nature’s beauty seen, serene.
Splish, splash, kingfisher’s flash,
Seagulls’ calls, graffiti walls,
Nitter, natter, onboard chatter,
Dandelion teas, a welcome breeze,
Cormorants flying, swooping, diving,
Nature’s beauty seen, serene.
Canal boat drifting, moving, smoothing,
Ripple-causing, gliding, sliding,
Starts and stops for age-worn locks.
Under the Canopy – by Peter
Under the canopy
greeted late
with Rhubarb tea
Giving love (to Auntie Charlotte)
weaving words from Cleese to Shakespeare
spinning with spindles
words into mats of weave
Robbie Burns Under the Canopy – by Peter
My Love
is like a Red Red Rose
Arachne and Athene
Ariadne’s
strong strong thread.
Leeds Industrial Museum – by Matthew (using words by group members)
Sheep’s wool,
Sharp spikes,
Soft twine winding –
Old skills passed down through generations.
Watching,
Weaving,
Spinning, carding –
Expertise in demonstration.
Hainsworth,
Jacquard,
Matrix Machines –
Old skills replaced though mechanisation.
Hot air,
Noise and speed,
The smell of oil –
The outer signs of innovation.
Child labour,
Textile dust
Poor work conditions –
With industry comes exploitation
Diseases,
Injuries,
Fear of the workhouse –
Employment leads to degradation.
History looms,
Fabric imported,
A lot comes from abroad now –
Industry shifts with globalisation.
Remembering,
Reminiscing,
Old photographs,
The objects here spark conversations.
It is heritage,
Community,
This futuristic past –
A resource now for education
Friendly staff.
Chattering children
Stories, poems, art –
A building rich with inspiration.
Canal Connections – by Matthew (after Ian McMillan)
Gliding gently on the water
Slipping slowly through the land
Listening to the towpath chatter
Moving softly, time in hand
A kingfisher darts across the bows –
A technicolour flash –
Between the plastic buoys,
That bob beside the bank,
Like a line of submerged belisha beacons.
A colony of cormorants
Watch its progress –
Solemn sentries,
On the abandoned warehouse roof.
Gliding gently on the water
Slipping slowly through the land
A cyclist with a top hat and a boom box,
Breaks the silence on the bank –
Blasting out pop classics
Into the still morning air.
In the background the engine purrs
Like a fat contented cat,
While overhead,
The gulls wheel,
Their cries an echo of the distant sea
Listening to the towpath chatter
Moving softly, time in hand
The navigation widens,
The water a flat, dark plain,
Flecked with gold,
From the flickering autumn sun.
A cormorant dives,
Disappearing like a sudden ghost.
Ripples spread across the surface,
Disturbing the reflection
Of the painted concrete wall.
Gliding gently on the water
Slipping slowly through the land
On the boat the people murmur –
Discussing the merits of the
Waterside graffiti.
Sharing recollections
Of the terrible flood
That swallowed Kirkstall
And left Bramley an island.
Marvelling at the mechanical weirs
And the salmon leap and the eel ladder.
Listening to the towpath chatter
Moving softly, time in hand
The boat turns,
Leaving a foaming swell in the water
Heading back towards the docks
And the waiting taxis.
Back though the lock,
That lifts us, like a toy boat,
To the higher ground,
And past the new footbridge,
That is haunted already by a ghostly sailor.
Gliding gently on the water
Slipping slowly through the land
Listening to the towpath chatter
Moving softly, time in hand
Under the Canopy – by Peter
Rose Hip Tea
Breathe, settle in
Laugh
Black Rose Hip grow
In Seacroft
(I never knew that!)
Inside out itchiness
Need to blet
after frost make it into Rhoda Mel sweet Scandinavian mead.
Anti carcinogenic
tons and tons of Vitamin C
A, B, D….
Such a cure-all
And RUN
To the loo!
Protection Hip
A fairy formed
Invisibility cloak.
Venus – Aphrodite
Bi-um-virate
A loving Adonis.
Framed nature under the canopy weaving – by Peter
Marram Grass basket sketched
nature walks
canal side Burdock
Barley
Oats
Hawthorne
wefted right to left
and left to right
into a strong string warp.
by Peter
The importance of being Ivy
Sing it loud and sing it long,
because the dark
has come and gone.
Ivy day: invasive nature,
a foe of masonry.
Good natured really.
Sing it loud and sing it long,
because the dark
has come and gone.
Bacchus fronds on Vicar Lane
sober up; a cure all poultice.
A soul mate for your name.
Sing it loud and sing it long,
because the dark
has come and gone.
A mercy in the burnt grate.
A leaf good for a good life.
See how long, see your journey.
Sing it loud and sing it long,
because the dark
has come and gone.
Our Under the Canopy Forest – by Peter
Charcoal speaks out expected light.
Climbing boughs looking down.
Lore of landscape a living breath.
Robin’s shelter shared nature space.
Temperate time layered elegance.
With little here left to lament.
This is our primal forest nest.
Grounded by our Skippko flock.
And some images from the visit to ‘This is a Forest’ exhibition at MODA Gallery