They say that objects and materials hold memories, like the places that call you.

When you are deep in your creative flow, the impulse that brought you to create at that time is captured in the material. Like stones, they hold energetic vibrations of your thoughts and emotions. 

I found this out when repurposing some old artworks. They were made on thick brown paper, the sort that comes in rolls and is used to make patterns for dressmakers’ toiles or other commercial functions.

At the time I wanted to create something big on a wall, to really extend my art practice, so I had enrolled in a weekend workshop in 2020.

I had not long come back from my cancelled artist residency. The last thing I had made was charcoal rubbings of burnt trees after the disastrous 2019/2020 bushfires. Everywhere in the national park were little clumps of orange growth amongst the shoots of green. I learnt that the orange first flush is poisonous to animals, so it allows the new growth to become more established without hungry animals nibbling at it.

The overall effect was a blackened bush landscape, peppered with orange and green against a pale sky.

Those were memories tucked away somewhere inside which bubbled up when I began drawing. I tore off great sheets of brown paper and pinned them to the wall then I slapped on ink and drew with charcoal. Big gestures, arms circling until I felt spent. The whole experience was quite cathartic but emotionally overwhelming.

The next day I didn’t know where to go with these drawings, so I tore the paper up, scrunched it into balls, then took it outside, unfolded it and turned on the hose. The water from fell like rain onto the folded paper. Mesmerising, like a balm on the landscape.  I took videos and stills, loving the way the water pooled in this blackened paper.

Fast forward a year and I found those sheets of crumpled paper in a corner and decided to have another look and see how I could repurpose them.

 As soon as the sheets were laid out, they started to release memories of the fire and the blackened trees. I thought I could tear the paper again and suddenly my hands started folding it into a book shape.

Another “wonky” artist book started to take shape. Like the burnt bush, these folded papers hold the memory of that event and will become a narrative from that time and place.

Repurposing has brought new life to something I had hidden away in a cupboard, wanting to tell its story in a way I hadn’t imagined. Now a new story emerges…