Fruits of My Labour, 2025
Tapestry, rag-rug, handloom weaving.
Wool, linen and silk.
I was riding a wave with my art practice when I got Long Covid and my brain went all woolly. Important Art People need definite “yes” and “no’s” and I couldn’t figure out what I was and wasn’t capable of. I was just slow and sad. I let a lot of people down at that time. I’m sorry.
We bought a house in Torea Granity and found a Lucinda Williams CD in the local Op shop. We popped it on in the car, like Lucinda we were also heading out West. There was something in the way she sang about the citrus blossom, the heavy fruit falling to the ground, that made me want to get stoned on the earthy ways.
I learnt about gardening in the rain and how to prick out seedlings at the Westport Community Garden. Until one day a sign appeared on the common room whiteboard.
14 October
Focus on personal project
Create backyard culture
Strengthen family bonds
Build your world
Sow your own seed
Do your own work
Create meaning
Self lead
Home
Life boat
Next time I went to Tuesday garden group the centre had closed.
“There is so much entropy on the coast” Davey said.
But what is entropy?
“It’s an idea from Physics about energy states, but in a poetic way it can also apply to human behaviour. It relates to states of chaos - a random gradual decline into disorder.
There’s a theory out here about the eccentricity of the people. Apparently, as coal weathers and breaks down it lets off a toxic gas which makes you go a bit loopy. Combine that with the radioactivity resonating out of the solid granite hillside and you get Granity Insanity. We laugh about the Granity Gas, but seriously wonder, could it be having an effect?
On the tree line above our whare we mistake the lights of Stockton Mine for a full moon rise. Night and day they are slowly breaking down a whole mountain. Carting it away 30 coal wagons at a time.
Matua in a high viz rain-cape comes to collect our scrap metal. He reckons out here we need as much as we can get. Restores the weighty balance of things at Waimarie. “With all that rock heading off to China; they’re sinking down and we’re floating up. Won’t be long and we’ll just be able to grab hold of the sky hook.”
I started making compost.
Probably the hardest thing about accepting my creative block was taking some personal responsibility for my part in allowing that to happen.
I had smoked the cigarette of self doubt.
Creativity is often compared to fire, don’t feed a fire and it eventually goes out. Leave it unattended and it can blow you and everyone else up.
A wood-stoking potter friend of mine told me that fire is at a human scale. A mouse can’t tend a tiny fire. Small sticks don’t burn. It’s a question of volume. You need it as much as it needs you.
I pulled out bindweed till I got head spins. I double dug beds. I set the scene for Spring. I thought about painting broad beans tend-riling up old sheets with oil paints mixed with candle wax. Meanwhile my looms sat patiently waiting, my yarns unspooled.
Sharing my garden plans with a friend brought tears to my eyes. And now I know why. When I garden I don’t feel alone because gardening is a collaboration with Nature. It’s working with actual living things that have their own unique intentions. The whole thing is real and happening. When I’m tired, she takes the lead. Beauty responds to my inactivity.
On the other hand, making art is not like this. It’s a force that propels, but ideas only come in to being when they are able to be seen, heard or felt by someone other than the person who dreamed them up. It’s hard times for the artist who can’t complete this circle.
For me gardening has become the rhythm of my year and weaving is my secret health, it’s what keeps me ticking along.
The small tapestries are all based on drawings of vegetables I have grown (and eaten!) on the beautiful whenua where I live at Torea Te Tai o Poutini. The cup is wood fired pottery handmade by my beloved Davey.
Life Boat, 2025 is inspired by a knotted rope door mat. Some people call this the lovers knot as its spiral entwining is unending. To me making rag rugs is the slowest form of painting.
The tartan wool blanket is hand-spun singles woven in the MacArthur Tartan. The sett is accurate but the colours are my own or rather the sheep’s own naturally coloured fleece. The MacArthurs are a warp thread in my ancestry, they who were weavers.
Finally I want to thank all those friends who saw these works in the back of my car over the last couple of months. Those living room floor “show and tell” sessions around the islands, were really encouraging. Thank you. Also to Marilyn for teaching me to weave tapestry. It was exactly what I needed. And to Katie for inviting me to show in ViewFinder I am so happy to share these works in such a gentle way.
Annie Mackenzie lives in Torea Granity, on the West Coast of Te Waipounamu. She has a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Sculpture from the University of Canterbury Te Whare Wānanga o Waitaha. Mackenzie has established herself as handloom weaver over the past decade, learning her craft through the New Zealand Woolcrafts Society of Spinners and Weavers Guilds. In 2016 she was awarded the Creative Fibre, New Weavers Award, and in 2019 she was the first weaver selected for the Sarjeant Gallery’s Artist in Residence at Tylee Cottage in Whanganui. She was awarded the Olivia Spencer Bower Fellowship in 2020 and was the recipient of Dame Doreen's Gift from the Blumhardt Foundation in 2024.