I’ve been wondering if a country can project its own distinctive colour – beyond its flag and other ‘given’ colours.  I’m curious if there’s another, overriding group of hues that surface naturally, with time and observation.  The mountain view to the right suggests it’s shades of green, surely!  But what else?  I’m always interested in the accidental and accumulative effect of life on colour- or is it colour on life?  The unpredictable, ever-joyous, mash-up of human, plus nature, over time.  A few months ago, I wrote about finding a colour palette within a quiet town in Scotland- a 10,000 step route walked in a couple of hours with a camera.  This time, with an opportunity to travel further a field, I’ve been fighting a tourist’s eyes to conceive Vietnam as a series of colours through photography.  From South to North over 21 days, from city to town to village.  I totalled up my steps tracked on my phone, 224,660 in all.  I’m wondering if this is enough to presume my own colour palette for Vietnam in 2016.

My methods are not scientific but I hope impartial, as much as a visitor can be.  This is just for fun and because I can’t help but look for a theme.  My textile eyes trained to pick out prevailing elements of texture, shape and colour.  I’ve been happily editing my 668 photos of Vietnam this Christmas, trying to reduce and simmer its colour.  Here are 20 images that emit a certain something, a colour story, unfolding over five themes.

1.The Walls and Pavements of Hoi An

I’ll begin here in Hoi An, it’s a common stop and from my straw polls among travellers, its a colourful favourite of Vietnam.  Like a historical world of Oz, Hoi An is waking up in Technicolor.  Near the East coast, in central Vietnam, sits the ancient town, listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site.  It was an important trading point between Indonesia, China, Japan and beyond, so influences in architecture are rich and varied.  Most striking are the sienna painted walls in the Old Town and primary coloured lanterns stealing all the glory at night time .

Not convinced by these too-easy-to-spot features, I find my camera pointing downwards towards the curb side and where wall meets pavement.  Layers of time across surface, interrupted by tourist markers – a toilet sign and another satin lantern.

Everyday objects are also camouflaged.  The bucket sinks into the dirty greys of the pavement in which it sits.  Plastic meets plaster – the ubiquitous water bottle seems to shine against, mottled walls.  The vegetation creeps in and needs managing, so the white washed tree trunk offers shade and structure in the picture.  Of all the shops, in all the towns, in all the world, these two dogs settle down here, to sleep in lovely colour coordination.

2. Still Life Groups of Colour

I’ll comment on this in the hope of a shared experience with the reader, or I’ll risk me sounding quite strange…that arrangements of any duplicate object, seemingly uncontrived – will cause a mini star jump in my gut.  I feel a reliable glee in stumbling across these creations.  Here’s a few examples of duplicates, from the cities of Ho Chi Minh and Hanoi.

Looking out for motorbikes are a great way to spot these groups.  What not who travels on these scooters never fails to impress in South East Asia.  Gobsmacked most of the time and humbled by what people decide and manage to transport.  If only I was quick enough to capture more examples, (see hot and humid excuses from my Bali blog). These plaster bags, or maybe former rice bags sit like fattened hips around the bike, unforeseen but now a natural fit.  Grubby whites on whites with their beautiful texture a bonus.

The city shops in Vietnam also appear in groups: a row of painters, a row of bookshops, a row of framers, of kitchen ware, of steering wheels… glee all round.  I find myself in Sewing Machine Street, feeling educated by the variations on offer.  I cast my mind back to Europe, where sewing machines go to die in an All Saints shop window, while here in Vietnam, they live again.  Manufacture is highly visible.  And is anything more compelling to witness than the craft behind work.  The hot climate reveals it all, as shops and services spill outside, onto the pavement.  I watch my step as I steer between tools, cooking food, paint, all sorts of necessary debris.  The pavement belongs to the activity, not to the pedestrian.  I get to know my place and hesitantly fill my camera.  Acutely aware and a bit embarrassed of the me at leisure not at graft.  The muted salmon pinks of the mechanic’s rags are carefully spaced in a circle to dry – looking so wishy washy against the man’s pure blue suit.  It’s not such a well composed picture, I snap at haste, but the contents feels rich.  I’m only just noticing the wiry and delicate coat hangers, wonky and working.

And finally the bike of greens, fresh and vibrant.  The vegetables seem to have their own light source, radiating among the street scene.  The duplicated poster back drop is a happy find, its whites echoing the woman’s shirt and enriching the greens.  I’m not ignoring the red container holding the courgettes in the corner, complimentary colours at play.

3. The Textiles on Ba Ca Market Day

In the very north of Vietnam, near the Chinese border, is a beautiful mountainous region, known by visitors for trekking and experiencing remote village life.  I stayed in the town of Sa Pa, and travelled over to Ba Ca Sunday Market, the weekly ‘everything’ market attended by many ethnic communities, each with distinctive dress and colour.  I realise at a later date, there are strong feelings about tourists visiting these markets, their presence gradually changing the nature of the scene, souvenirs now competing on space with everyday necessities for locals.  As well as tech heavy tourists documenting it all – lets not talk about selfie sticks.

I am one of these tourists of course, I know.  I try to be sensitive, not wanting to invade or interrupt the scenes – I avoid portraits and children.  I am reluctant to comment too much on the images, they speak it all.  I stand back and am forever floored by the status of textiles here.  The pride.  It’s all encompassing presence, how textiles are revered and entrenched, as one being, in the dress, the craft, the fibre and blue fingers I spot from home made indigo dye.  The traditional designs sing out in a stunning clash with plastic sandals, high heels, muddy buffalos and chequered umbrellas.  Dusty ginger roots meet ultra marine.

4. Colour in Architecture

My home in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) for a few days, was a housing block of beige-white and homely green in District 5, a friendly neighbourhood, a maze of entrances, cafes and food vendors at its feet.  Stepping out the door to Ho Chi Minh had a dizzying effect each new day.  I was staying on the 6th floor, where cooking smells and sounds wafted up the interior atrium, making a welcome dent in my early alienation.  That feeling subsiding with a street meal of smoking bbq pork, rice and sweet chilli sauce.  I ate, sheltered from the rain and watched how the traffic moved at dusk.  I relaxed.  This city was my introduction to Vietnam.  The rain fell most days and the traffic continued at large.  I braced myself for road crossing, my photography slowed by the overwhelming demand on my attention to stay alive.

There is an abundance of colour and detail here in the city, but its this chalky backdrop of the buildings I recall about HCMC, the grids, the geometry and order supporting the immense activity on the ground.

Whites, creams and pastels contrast with the lush dark evergreens, found in this serene church courtyard.  I wandered into the quiet space, intrigued by the concrete seating, matching the direction of stonework on the ground.  Are they patiently waiting  for a too busy church?  I’m not sure.

The tile floor inside the Central Post Office, is all 1890’s grandeur and delicate details from French Colonial times.  The building was designed by Gustave Eiffel, famous for The Statue of Liberty and Eiffel Tower.  Its still in operation, buy your stamps here!  I sat weary on a high backed wooden bench, watching the crowds and wondering if I could smuggle-eat my fresh spring rolls and sauce.  I did.  I ate and watched the action a while.  I photographed all sorts of variations of legs, tiles and foot ware on this floor beneath me.  Waiting for the crowd to move so I could experiment with its lines and angles.

The chalky grid continues in the high rise, the coffee shop pick n mix.  My tip to any visitor to HCMC: when searching for a quirky place to drink, look up.  Every balcony a different coffee shop.  One of my favourites was Mockingbird Cafe, hunt it down or take advice from the Vietnam Coracle, with a lovely blog post dedicated to the hidden HCMC cafe.  Back to colour – the splash of turquoise glass is a palette high note.  Heading skywards, the coloured glass a giveaway of the rising high-tech HCMC.  Right now, there are unique opportunities to capture this, the dual presence of before and after.

5. Living on the Land

The last theme to mention must go to the landscape in Vietnam.  These four images are a mixture of the northern and mountainous Sa Pa region and Ninh Binh, south of Hanoi, famous for the rugged limestone scenery.  These areas have outstanding beauty no doubt, the darkest passages of a war memoir will speak of it.  Zooming in among the topography, I was drawn to the details, the harvest, the materials, the evidence of people.

The drying corn was seen in a village home near Sa Pa.  I joined a small group tour, led by local women, trekking between villages.  This pile of corn lies on the ground, outside a home.  It will dry over the year and be a supply of animal feed.  The colour of drying corn is much brighter than I expected, revealing a fiery orange hue within.

The glimpses of synthetic colour and material jar the eye in these images of the land.  The signs of everyday life either blend in like postcard whimsy or feel incongruent and messy.  I like the variety on display, the texture and gentle colour, bar some royal blue plastic.  There’s a sense of waiting here in the villages.  Not by the people themselves, they are busy.  But by what they can control in their environment.  Waiting for the elements to play their part in maintaining life, breathing air through it all.

It’s impossible to separate rice fields from a memory of Vietnam, yielding 3-4 crops a year, these fields are the hardest working in South East Asia.  Depending on the stage of the crop, the colour will change.  My visit during October was just around and after harvest, a darker stubbier green.  I got lucky in my visit to Tam Coc, near Ninh Binh, witnessing the lush lime green before cutting.  On a day tour, a small group of us cycled between fields at harvest.  Our guide described the reality of cutting stems in knee deep, water clogged fields.  The working women we met showed us their tools, a hand held scythe and protective clothing, a skin tight bodysuit shielding skin from leeches.  In Asia, they say Rice is Life.  Getting closer to the reality of production I understand this anew.

It’s an interesting task, to explore creative choices through colour, it’s helped steer my memories.  Solidify my interests.  It’s how I come to know a place, a cheat sheet to jump in or be pulled in and inquire after.  Can a country project its own distinctive colour palette?  Regardless of my camera and my chosen stories, it will.  Next year or two, perhaps I’ll go back and have another go, walk another 21 days and inquire again.

This looks to be a beautiful, very Christmassy event at the Dulwich Picture Gallery in London.

Find C F McEwan scarves in the Artisan Market on 10th, 11th, 17th and 18th December 2016.

All small silk scarves are 15% off!

See below for more details…

The early hours of January 2nd this year, I was trying to sleep, over tired following a binge on Sherlock and many of those individually wrapped kind of chocolates. I was full of thoughts for the year ahead. It had been a day falling quietly into night, a cocoon of winter rest and easy chats about the near future. The New Year window of light leaking in and rousing us to ‘getting on’ and ask ‘what’s next?’

Mine? A hundred things, but rising to the surface was clear, to be somewhere new – to travel. To step beyond the fancy of a place and get round to going. I wanted to see and feel Bali and after that, find some silk worms! Getting more knowledge about the material my business depends on – silk.

Fast forward to September 2016, I’ve made it to Bali.  I’m going slow, determined to scoop up enough of the place in which to build a new scarf collection. That’s my intention here, relax, soak it up and do some art. And then write about it.

So to today’s New Creative title, travelling and staying creative: finding focus in Bali.  The title suggests I haven’t found it quite so easy to be creative here? Well, not in the way I had planned – oh those assured plans! There’s plenty of subject matter, right now I’m that sponge, falling into a sea of new.  It’s easy to sink amidst a feeling of overwhelm. If I’m feeling it, I begin to think others too must have struggled, their intentions outrun by logistics, sweat, traffic and strangerdom – and sleepiness!  Adjusting to this, yes. Coming up for air and beginning to look again, having stocked up on drinking water and biscuits my pace changes. Resisting the constant sightseer lure. Which means, I’m trying to stay in occasionally.

Bali sits outside my window as I write, composing in my thatched-roof room. The birds here are like a speedy chorus sung on loud repeat. So unlike the slow, murmur of the pigeons on my roof back home.  I wish I could bottle the air here, like I can the sound. The weight of warmth that hits you on opening the door. It’s a sort of buoyant, thick sense that makes you still. Every pore awakened to escape. Like wearing wool a centimetre away from your skin, it’s a comfortable but unshakeable cardi.

I’ve certainly set myself a challenge, one that is now more clear.  To respond to a place and then observe myself having responded. Sounds clunky, but I think that’s how it works.  I’ll try and get more specific. I’ve been in the capital city of Denpensar, rice field Ubud, mountainous Bedegul and now, seaside Lovina, on the north coast. I’m going to share some of my Bali inspiration and a few choices I’ve made to keep me focused.

Creating some limitations

The first couple of days I resisted using my chunky slr camera, reluctant to put it out there, nervous of the reaction, nervous I would get carried away and offend someone. Instead, I would discreetly use my phone, an iPhone SE, with decent enough camera. I also began using my sound recorder for the first time, the Zoom Handy. A revelation to me. In the way I search for an image, I began searching for sound, my ears tuning in and it’s so brilliantly inconspicuous a gadget. My room in Ubud was next to a school, I was lucky to hear the cheeriness of local, young life. Early in the morning, as lessons started, I simply placed my recorder out the window to catch their voices.

I love using the sound recorder, its a physically easy, non invasive way to capture a place and its energy. Those first few days I felt languid and weighty, so were ideal times for the recorder, limiting my active senses to just the one, my ears. Where my thoughts seemed static, my ears were energetic, seeking new sounds.

Wake up, I inwardly shout most days, cold showers and fresh mango help me out. I walk the streets of Ubud, a stubborn pedestrian among the scooters. I start to notice what I’m noticing and it focuses almost completely on Bali’s natural materials.

Penjor:

Penjor line the streets in Bali during the Galungun Hindu festival time and I arrived towards the end of this period in September, getting a chance to see many examples. The penjor symbolises good over evil and gives thanks to the gods. Bamboo poles are wrapped with sculpted shapes of coconut and palm leaf and stretch up 10m high, with an additional bamboo structure placed at the end to hold offerings. This weight causes each pole to arch into the road, leaning over and swaying in the breeze. Lines of straw colour and sharp edge create silhouettes to photograph against the sun.

Palm Leaf Offerings:

The palm leaf offering of Canang Sari is carried out to thank Sang Hyang Widhi Wasa in praise and prayer. It is the simplest, daily household offering, occurring every morning. It seems a quieter, smaller approach than the Penjor. I watched women and children make these palm shapes, using a stapler to fix the folds in geometric shapes. Scattered on pavements, doorways and temples, the shapes act as plates for holding petals, food and incense, in carefully organised arrangements. I frequently walked past Balinese women in traditional dress, placing these offerings, lighting the incense, head bowed and still in prayer.

As each day passed, I felt I pieced together more aspects of this daily ritual- resisting the immediate google search. I observed the cooking of the food, the collecting of petals, the serenity of the offering, the smell of incense, the sweeping of each area in the afternoons. All this physical activity carried out by the women. The offering is a sign of self sacrifice, due to the time and effort to prepare. While I was drawn into this piece of Balinese life via the craft of the palm leaf, I’m struck finally by its powerful intention. The discipline and care so consistent through every road and village. I’m not sure what to do with these observations, how they connect to my sketchbook.  But they do make me consider the place for ritual, the room for the spiritual within the ordinary.  I keep an eye out for old leaf plates and find some in a rubbish pile. I’m intending to teach myself the method of making the plate and take it from there.

Rice Fields:

Back in the UK, every August and September I look out for hay stacks. In open, freshly cut fields they look like land art, casting long, identical shadows. Some cylindrical, some rectangular, sculptural all the same. I think it’s the imposed order on the field that gets my attention. It’s so organised. And for me, the Bali rice fields create a similar response. Acres of green, in various shades and textures. Each field in a different state of growth and harvest. The long, lush, grasses, the water filled spikes of growth and the stubby, straw residue from the cut, inhabited by sparrows, quick to fly away.

I photograph all this variety, particularly enjoying the play of light on the new growth that’s water-clogged. I can capture the reflections of these new shoots in the water, echoing texture and line.

I start to create mono prints of these rice fields. Using sheets of acetate, I paint and scratch in the detail onto the plastic. I place the acetate paint side down onto a sketchbook page. I use a pencil to further scratch on top of the acetate as the paint connects to the page, creating further lines. When the acetate is removed, an impression remains – my mono print. I use a combination of watercolour and acrylic, enjoying how the two mix together.

My art materials are few: a5 sketchbook, 10 x sheets of a5 acetate – which can be reused, a variety of paint brush sizes, pencils, pens, watercolour case, primary colour acrylics, white and black and cello tape, string and scissors. And I’m now wishing I brought a needle and thread.

I sit on the floor of my various, guest house rooms, and lay out my studio. Only an hour here and there each day, to fill my pages. I use my iPhone pictures as a reference and make new marks on the page, enjoying the subject matter and limited materials. I think these few resources are helping me stay focused, the expectation is lowered and I’m forced to innovate. I don’t normally use watercolour, but its a way of carrying colour that isn’t too heavy in my rucksack. And interestingly it seems to suit the environment, a light touch is needed here in this humidity, a fluid, gentle way to layer.

Bamboo:

A favourite feature of Bali for me is the bamboo, in all it’s uses and natural habitat. I’m bias here. I’m already a convert. My socks, my first scarves, my first plants, my mattress back home, all feature bamboo in some form. In Ubud and Denpensar I first observe it in building construction, blinds, brushes, mats, furniture and as the decorative penjor.

In the mountain village of Bedegul, I visited the Bali Botanical garden three times. Here I found a mini bamboo forest, in a variety of size and age, reaching 50m or more into the sky. It was beautiful. The forest floor of bamboo leaves, soft and bouncy under foot. The breeze causing the high stems to sway and creak against each other, reminding me of an ageing boat under water. And I soon rummaged in my bag for the handy recorder.

Bamboo forest from Clare McEwan on Vimeo.

Most striking, were the masses of fallen strips of bark all around. Like mini sculptural forms by the likes of Anish Kapoor, an elegant curve, a shiny surface, like resin. They fall in heaps around each bamboo clump. Piling up, littering the forest floor with hues of cream and brown and that tea stain colour we used to dye our sketchbook pages. These pale colours in easy contrast to the fresh, new green of the trunk before it peels away to the beige.

I’m not done with bamboo here, I collect samples of the leaves and bark and take it home to experiment – to paint, draw, sculpt and photograph. I start thinking about bamboo as a scarf collection.

The percussion of Bali

I may have been listening out for it with my handy recorder, but I can’t help feeling there is a beat to Bali. The crickets, the birdsong, both wild and caged, the daily sweeping of an entrance like a drum brush, the cockerels day and night, ducks in the rice field, hens, chicks, barking of the cross stray dog and the happy beeping of the traffic as drivers pass each other. This is constant.  Peaceful, Bali isn’t!

To finish, here’s a snippet of a traditional dance performance I went along to in Ubud called the Legong Classic.  In it you can hear The Peliatan Masters – playing Indonesian instruments which are, you guessed it, mainly percussive. Metallophones played with mallets and hand drums keeping the pace, called Kendhang. The beat moves between slow and fast sections, heading towards a repetitive frenzy, stretching my listening threshold taught. Walking back from the performance I recall a mental calm, as if the chaotic percussion had cleared out my mind, like an emptying out of stubborn clutter. The music certainly feels a reflection on the environment, a densely populated region of people, nature and development, all making noise, competing for our attention.

Legong Classic: The Peliatan Master from Clare McEwan on Vimeo.

So is the tonic for my travelling overwhelm a blast of Legong?  It seemed to help me! As in homeopathy, by treating a symptom with its cause perhaps it does alleviate something.  I’m just thankful for the show and enormous spirit of the dancers and musicians – helping me pull together my senses of Bali – and the rhythms now ingrained for good.

I now continue on my travels this Autumn and Winter, to Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.  I hope to finally introduce myself to those silk worms and explore the wealth of textiles out there in South East Asia.

One of the highlights of doing any scarf show is about meeting fellow textile lovers.  Although not all fans of the silk scarf, they are keen to tell me their thoughts on the accessory and I’m thrilled to hear them.  I’ve been storing up these conversations, the highs and lows of the surprisingly divisive item.  It made me think it might be time to consider my own ode to the silk scarf.

As C F McEwan develops, I feel I’ve been growing into the way of the silk scarf, trying to wear them most days of the week, trying out new ways to make them work for me – they can take a bit of getting used to.   I’m interested in why a silk scarf can feel so personal.  How can I encourage more people to give them a go?  How to help bring those carefully tissue-wrapped beauties out of the drawer?  Sadly that’s where most people tell me they keep them.

For me, the best silk scarf falls equally between the decorative and the functional.  I love the comfort of the silk. Wearing it regularly softens up the fibres and gets rid of that crisp, orderly way of a silk scarf. That ‘done up’ feel. I am not remotely the done-up type! So I share those worries of being overly formal. Although I do love the way it was worn in the 50’s – see Cate Blanchett’s look from the film Carol. Breathtaking costume and total art of the scarf, but perhaps an intimidating style to follow in our own, everyday 2016.

Cate Blanchett in the film Carol

So how to undo the formality of a silk scarf?

It might sound too simple, but works for me – I often wear mine with trainers and it immediately eases any tension in my mind and my stride.  The sporty shoe trend is going nowhere.  I trick myself I’m only half dressed up and I can still run about in a hurry.

I’ll wear a bold scarf to a function for courage. A formal occasion doesn’t have to assume a formal attitude.  You’ve heard the saying, everyone wants to talk to the person in the hat. Well I think next in line is the person in the scarf!  I’ve had a lot of feedback from people telling me their scarf made them feel like themselves, a personal touch in a possibly stuffy occasion.  Scarves are always a conversation starter.

I loved hearing about Grace Kelly wearing her Hermes scarf to cover a plaster cast.  An alternative accessory! – mild perhaps, but a sweet solace if we fall over (especially for a Hermes!)

Grave Kelly wearing a silk scarf by Hermes

“Those modern square scarves are too big!

There seems concerns about just what to do with them.  It can help to have a few styles you can tie with eyes closed.  Getting used to the fabric between your hands.  A large square scarf means so many more options, make it look full and dramatic or fold it neat and discreet –  not to be feared.   Have a look at the excellent scarf styling video by Nordstrom, (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-ExVRCJ0Jrw) 16 scarf ideas with 4 different scarf shapes.  Explore the shapes you can style for yourself without relying on a mirror and feel 100 times more scarf confident!

A podcast was recommended to me recently – about managing self confidence.  In it, the host talks about the trigger of the mirror. The self critic being awakened as we pass by the mirror. She thinks if the mirror can lower confidence, then we prepare for it by dressing up – projecting the image of our power. I’m sure it’s the same way people use suits and shoes. A scarf can offer a signal to ourselves, an intention to show up.

A revamp…

I wear my scarf to freshen an old coat, which might look worn-in up close – disguising it with a vibrant, printed scarf makes it last another season. I’ll wear my scarf with a jumper, no doubt a tad bobbly.  Enjoying the combination of wool and silk. The clothes may feel aged, but when silk is worn on the neck and against the face, it can add lustre, softness and colour – it can be rejuvenating.  For some paired down silk scarf/jumper inspiration, have a look at 90’s film Intersection.  Sharon Stone’s character does everyday silk beautifully.

Sharon Stone in the film Intersection

Scarf on the mind…

As well as a confidence boost, I think scarves can also be a mood enhancer.  Colour tells us a story, to ourselves and others. Giving out energy, like Tiger Woods wearing red on the final day of the Open. There seems a navy, grey and black corporate code out there, throw in some colour and change the conversation.  Make your inner mood match your exterior.

If I think a little deeper about my scarf wearing, I see it as a constant.  Forgive me, this may just be a wistful moment…at times it feels life is made up of mini losses. A busy week, month, year, full of partings – frequent goodbyes and talk soons. In those moments between leaving and arriving my scarf is a comfort, just a fancier one than when I was three! A slice of me when feeling mildly adrift.

They can be trouble, these silk scarves, they’re expensive, slip off the back of a chair, be stood on or left on the train. But choose well (and be careful!) and this fabric will become part of us – silent keepers of our memories.  There are fewer possessions I am attached to these days, attempting to have less stuff in my life, but dammit, scarves are destined to remain with me.

From the silk lovers…

I asked around for some views from other silk scarf owners out there, to build a broader picture.  From a variety of ages between 20 and 70 years, here’s what they said….

“I like to wear silk scarves for a few reasons; firstly, I’m quite a scrappy girl, was always a tomboy as a kid and often find clothes shopping horrendous – with a silk scarf you can wear quite basic/cheap pieces underneath but still look super smart!  Secondly, I travel light, and a silk scarf can fit in anywhere and be super versatile!  I wear mine mostly round my neck like a cowboy, but have used it as a head scarf, a kimono coat and a shawl too!  Thirdly, I love wool, but no matter how soft it is, my neck is still a little sensitive to the itch.  Where as silk is so soft and light, you don’t even know it’s there!”  Louise, co owner of Tayberry Gallery, Perth, Scotland

“Wearing a silk scarf is an intimate way of living with art.  It becomes a bit of who you are.”  Gretchen, Colorado, USA

“If I have to go out unexpectedly, with no time to get dressed as I would normally, thank goodness for my silk scarves.  Once on I immediately feel I’m ready to meet anyone, reassured by the beauty of the scarves, drawing the eye away from the rest of my attire – giving me the confidence I didn’t know I had.” Anne Marie McEwan, Kent, England (my mum!)

“I love quality fabrics, I am passionate about quality in my own designs and I own a lot of pashminas but nothing beats the feel of a silk scarf.  Quality is everything, you can’t replicate it with manmade fibres.  It doesn’t come close.  Definitely a tactile thing.”  Eleanor, Devon, England, from Handmade by Ellie

“Scarves are a great way to make an elegant yet contemporary style statement!  I do think the best thing about a silk scarf is that it can add a very personal element to your individual style.  Invest in quality and go for timeless prints in a palette that compliments your existing wardrobe.”  Gina, London, scarf label PIPET Design

“I wear a lot of black so my scarf is the perfect colour addition.  I always get comments when I wear it.  Perfect to dress up a simple T and skinny jeans for the evening.  I throw on my scarf to a simple black day dress and I’m good to go for the evening.”  Cristiana, London

“I absolutely love my silk scarf, it adds just the right amount of warmth and colour to a dark outfit on a cool winter day.”  Aleema, Brighton, England.

Louise from Tayberry Gallery, Perth, Scotland

“Too many scarves already!”

Lucky you, I think when I hear this from customers!  I keep mine on trouser hangers in a wardrobe I look in everyday, not hidden in unopened drawers.  This helps me remember what designs and colours I can choose from. (If you’re worried about moths, keep the scarves in a coat bag zipped up and still very accessible to the rest of the wardrobe.)  Someone described to me a creative challenge they set themselves – to wear a different scarf everyday and at the same time be inspired to wear more of their clothes.

My scarf will come off at some point through the day, so I use a little fabric bag to fold the scarf into loosely – preventing strong creases. It’s also protected from getting scratched by keys and other bag paraphanlia.

“Silk scarves are too extravagant for me”

I nearly didn’t comment on this, fearful of stating the obvious or making excuses.  But I’d be ignoring an important and sensitive reason that keeps people away from silk scarves.  “It’s just a scarf!”  If it’s just about keeping warm or covering up, they suffer in competition with other, perfectly well performing fibres that cost much less.

So I speak instead about the intention behind these precious scarves. I think it’s about questioning our senses.  How do we want to experience colour, texture and shape in our life?  Is it through physical, visual, kinetic or emotional means?  Does it need to have a story?  I like to think our expression of these tastes can be unique, given enough time and consideration.  It might be about choosing furniture, cushions, DIY, fashion, cars, bikes, paintings, fine arts, gadgets, trinkets, collections of things, joining a course or independent learning.  I acknowledge we’re so fortunate if we can consider even of one of these as a choice rather than a need.

A silk scarf choice can combine some of these experiences.  The physicality of wearing the cloth, seeing and responding to the colour, enjoying the story of the print, the softness of the fibre to touch.  Rather than investing in a painting or ceramic or chair, the owner invests in art that is designed to be worn and can be part of their everyday life.

Myself, and many other brands out there, will work hard to demonstrate the value of our silk scarves; through the quality of material, beautiful finishing, good colour and original print design.    Finally and perhaps unsung, the owner will have invested in another vital cost, the learning and practice by the maker that underpins all their work and every new piece into the future.

Caring for your scarf…

I heard a good tip from a silk producer in Vietnam.  Wash your silk in cold water with a little hair shampoo.  Silk is a protein, just like our hair, so treat it gently in the same way.  Keep it out of direct sunlight. Don’t iron too close to the edges (silk fibres are more vulnerable here).  Undo any knots in the scarf when not being worn – to prevent bruising the fibres.

Silk ages very well, it’s tougher than it looks, keeps you warm or cool as the temperature requires.  Those natural fibres are clever, trapping air and breathing with you.

The scarf for life…

Many will tell you a silk scarf is an investment and a timeless piece – I couldn’t agree more, here’s to longer lasting, slower fashion.  But a lot of style advice can sing that tune, with shoes, bags and coats too.  That’s a lot of investment!   More pressure to choose correctly – to get it right.  So take your time, find out the colours that work for you.  Silk scarves aren’t going anywhere.  A friend had her ‘colours’ done recently and it has fast tracked her style choices forever more.  ‘Colours’ are grouped into the four seasons, finding out she was an Autumn has saved a lot of hassle and uncertainty in the shops.  Although I have new collections I present every season, there will always be opportunity to order from past seasons, just let me know if you have your eye on a design not in stock.

Feel fine about about trying on scarves in store and ask for help.  Retailers have so much knowledge about personal styling.   A good independent store will want you to be happy, not sell you something that doesn’t suit.  I’m always struck by the care my stockists show towards customer service and depth of product information. I’ve watched them take their time with each customer.  If you meet me and the scarves at a selling event, feel free to also try on, that’s the only way make a choice.   On the hanger vs on the neck, the design can really change and it’s part of the fun!

Is your scarf going to be an everyday bit of luxury, maybe an unexpected gift, an inheritance, a holiday souvenir or one for that big wedding?  However it comes into your life, embrace it – the silk scarf wants to stay!

Listen to Clare’s first podcast here!  17 minutes in length – save it for your walk around the block.

Clare brings to life her recent blog post: Walking with my camera phone: 10,000 steps towards a colour palette.

Many thanks Peppi Knott  from Momotaro band, for sound design and production.

I prefer to walk for some kind of purpose and choosing this task became a great way to stay focused.  I found I walked for a longer period – the much lauded 10,000 steps.  We know walking is a vital part of staying well and great for feeling mentally bright – but I also like to have a challenge for why I’m walking, I like a new destination and this activity tells me, it seems I like a mission on the way – collecting new colour.  Using my camera phone to look and record my surroundings.

I’m sharing my discoveries to illustrate how walking can boost inspiration and motivation to get started on a new creative project.  My focus was my usual abstract and formal gang – colour, texture, shape and material.  I am always on the look out for these elements to pop up and surprise me.  I don’t walk fast, I look in front, above and beside me – much can be missed by the kerb or fence.  And I take the odd risky step into someone’s garden or worksite.

What will I gain?

Walking, looking and photographing can boost those two key creative drivers –  to feel inspired and get motivated.  It’s a simple task to complete – perhaps a 30 minute walk “to see what I will see”.  But it is also about understanding and discovering your own visual interests – the freedom to make your own choices, without influence from a menu of offers or someone else’s must-do itinerary.  Walking freely with a camera creates the opportunity for surprising yourself.  The act of looking with purpose, tunes the eye, finds the unexpected and a chance to notice your own pattern of interest.  ‘I didn’t know I was into wheely-bin graffiti!’  No doubt it will be a local walk for most people – so there’s no pressure to get the ‘holiday brochure snap’.  Relax, go slow and have no other task at hand except to look.

Who goes with me?

My own preference is to walk solo, for many reasons.  I’m less distracted and keep my own pace.  I can listen to my intuition – which way I’m feeling to go – take in non verbal clues about safety, atmosphere and where there might be some visual potential.  If walking alone, take the usual and expected precautions.  I’ll mention these at the end of the post.  Feeling comfortable will aid more interesting, better executed photographs! 

I do love walking socially, it’s a joy to be out and about in company and conversations always seem freer.  But all the talking means the senses are maxed and focus on looking gets weakened by our natural tendency to focus on each other.  Perhaps this is my own experience, others may find it easier to manage both.   

I am very aware going solo may not be possible for everyone.  If that’s the case, have a chat in advance about what you want to achieve on the walk, if the task is shared by your company then I imagine it will be fruitful.

If you’re worried about being lonely on your walk – you might be surprised.  Walking with a creative purpose keeps you focused, your mind on the external.  The buzz of discovery is a pleasure and there is the sweet anticipation to review work on your return.  Your company is your artwork and with it you may find you’re unbothered when alone in a crowd, there is endeavour and you have work to do!    

When is the right time?

I’m was in Scotland for this task and it tended to rain in the morning and brighten up by late afternoon.  I like the low sun in these afternoons around 4 or 5pm, end of Summer, early Autumn is a magical, vibrant time  – you’ll notice long shadows on walls and the back glow around cow parsley et al in the hedgerows.  It sounds obvious but a sunny day and blue sky will transform a scene, so make the most of the weather.  Images will be sharper and colour more heightened.    

It might also be interesting to try different times of day and weather and observe the change in the surfaces and colour around you.  Repetition is a dear friend.  Never assume a route is ‘done’.  Depending on our mood, our train of thought, the season or energy levels, there will be something new to spot.   A tired, listless day could slow us right down and catch that wonky goal post in the park.  I know some people enjoy capturing the same view or landmark every day or week and enjoy the subtle changes across a period of time.

Where shall I go?

Circular or linear walk?  Ask any walker and they will have a preference!  I think it doesn’t really matter when it’s a photo walk.  A circular walks keeps it all new but a linear walk (going back the way you came) allows you to catch surfaces or objects missed on the way out.  And the light will be slightly different.

I walked about 4.5 miles yesterday, taking 233 photos along the way.  I was out for about 1 hour and 45mins.  I don’t know how this compares to others.  What I noticed was my frequency of taking  photos started to slow down after an hour.  I think that’s natural.  Starting to get tired, looking gets a bit saturated and I became more selective about what to capture.  A growing sense of ‘seen it’. 

My walk took me through through the park, the town centre, into a housing estate and up the hill to the country paths and cattle for company.  I found orange sheep up there!  There was a gentle busyness through the housing estate.  The time at 5.30pm was prime for activity, people returning home, kids in parks and on bikes and glimpses of couples through windows having early dinners.  I know I sound like a spy, but I enjoy this backdrop.  A sense of the place and routine.  Among it I snap at the details.  The scaffolding, the rugged wall, signage, the garden gnome (it didn’t make this edit!), residue of domestic DIY in gardens.  Sounds like I’m also a spy of the banal?!  Possibly, but as a textile enthusiast, all this means unexpected colour and a variety of texture and shape.

What am I looking for?

1.  Accidental colour:

I photograph to collect colour.  New palettes are out there, everywhere and always changing.  A long time ago the best advice I ever received from an art tutor was not to use colour straight from the bottle or make do with pre-coloured paper.  The results will be unexciting and very regular.  I have carried this advice with me ever since.  Always colour mixing from scratch, finding a grey hue from green and red rather than black and white.  Colour mixing will be a whole new blog post soon!

This colour theory continues through photography.  I snap away at random urban colour because I’m looking for something new.  How I apply these new palettes will reveal itself later, I don’t need to worry about its use just yet.  What I’m doing is training my eye to see what colour jars.  If it jars, it suggests I‘ve not seen that combo before.  I freshen up my mental library of colour.  Like a muscle it needs exercise. 

Where to look?  Doors, cars, signage, gardens, allotments, boot sales, garage sales, markets, street furniture.  Flowers and trees do offer a glut of obvious colour but I’m looking for something new, which means looking beyond the pretty.  A dying flower bed however – might be a winner!

2.  Material combinations

I am like many people – limited for space and money to keep any material or supplies that I fancy in the studio – a slow learnt truth.  So if I can’t have it – then I will photograph it!  Yesterday I came across black plastic wrapped hay stacks, piles of old rubber tyres, rusty railings and car-size concrete blocks.  All in my mind, containing beautiful, sculptural and textural qualities.  Here’s the opportunity to obtain the robust and non-decorative.  They might inspire the making of smaller and lighter objects back in the studio.  Artists like Eva Hesse, Rachel Whitread and Antonio Tapies come to mind as I edit my imagery.  Famous artists for using industrial materials to create unsettling forms.  And I wonder if they enjoyed similar walks as part of their practice.

3.  Light and shadow

How an object or structure imposes itself in a space will depend on the quality of the light.  I’m watching for reflections and shadows, how light hits a surface and highlights its texture – what might otherwise be a plain sight.  City and county walks will hold different values because of this.  Sunlight gets absorbed into the mud but can bounce right off the glass window.  Move yourself around your subject matter, try different levels and angels to watch the light change rapidly.  I take 3-4 images of each subject, crouching down and getting side views to get maximum chance of catching that special angle of light.

4.  Layers

The use of layers could probably sum up my whole practice so I have to mention it as part of my walk.  I am looking for ways I can photograph through something.  Finding layers occurring naturally – like green mesh on a building site.  Back in the studio, layers are a tool to combine all your imagery.  This editing time will be it’s own focus in a future blog post.  Layers can also be found in the cross section of a structure.  Look for where materials meet – in a hinge, a rooftop, a gate or a fence meeting a wall – these will offer examples of layers.  Move the camera in close to cut out all the clutter around your subject matter.  Yes, it’s possible to edit and crop when you’re back on the computer or phone, but it’s good practice to edit with your eye – compose beautifully behind the camera rather than on screen later.

5.  Contrast:

Similar to combining materials, this focus is about qualities of surface or light.  Think about finding opposites, soft, hard edged, fuzzy, shiny, pitted, smooth, wet, sharp, curvy, straight, irregular, groups and units, urban, nature, pattern, plain – look for all these things!  Even just looking at pavements and kerb sides can throw up a whole new pattern library. 

Feeling overwhelmed by all the choice?

These five elements probably sound a lot to hold in your head as you walk.  Perhaps take one element at a time and then you’ll create five distinct photo walk libraries!  Here are a few other precision exercises you could try on your walk to help you keep on task:

Choose one subject matter and go in search of all you can find.  For example, photograph all shop signs in your local area, from the tiny to the corporate giant.

Choose one material to focus on, for example only capture things made with wood or metal or plastic.

Photograph the rainbow, make your photo walk only about those colours and gather red through to violet.  Remember Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain.

Choose one camera angle or distance and stick to it.  Photograph only views of the ground, or with subject matter 20 cm away.

Top tips when out on your walk

–Don’t rely on the zoom option on your camera.  You’ll loose image quality.  Move yourself towards the subject matter where possible – that is my number one tip. 

-Be comfortable, only carry what you really need.  What’s in my rucksack?  Water, snack, umbrella, extra plastic bag in case I find something to collect, wallet, ear phones, notebook, pen and of course my phone camera, compact or digital SLR camera – depending on my task.

  -Using ear phones – only with caution.  I like the odd podcast or funky playlist but only when I’m not worried about traffic or my personal safety.  For example in a quiet remote footpath, I’m keeping my ear phones off, I need to keep my ears open to what’s going on. 

-Comfy trainers, sunscreen, inconspicuous clothes, I want to blend in, an anorak/hoody normally does it. 

-Look like you know where you’re going.  People always love to ask if they can help you as you stand there looking at the wall!   When you might merely be zoning into the scored out graffiti.  Move swiftly when you decide to take a photograph and you wont get too bothered.  You can go back to going slow when you’re on the move again. 

-Look in the direction of where you’re walking.  I say this to myself as it’s easy to get carried away watching that bird and step in many a puddle or worse – a lamp-post.  Stop to photograph, no need to do it on the move.

-Don’t spend time reviewing your work on your walk – wait til later when you’re back home.  Save battery, time, premature judgement and making a spectacle by keeping the pace and only taking the camera out to photograph.

-Don’t overdo it.  I’ve mentioned 10,000 steps because the weather was fine, I felt fit and and I had some time.  Even a ten minute walk will fill up your camera plenty.  All those ten minutes will add up.

Looking for more photo inspiration?

Here a few of my favourite photographers and artists that enjoy the street/suburban/country view.  I know these people have absolutely influenced my eye over the years.  Check out William Eagleston exhibition at the National Portrait Museum in London if you’re nearby.

William Eagleston

William Christenberry

Henri Cartier-Bresson

I would love to see what you do!  Email me your favourite photos from your walk and I’ll include them in a follow up blog.  Any additional tips and exercise you have, please share also.  This is by no means a complete and exhausted list!

Have fun, I wish you good weather and a safe and lucky walk.  And most importantly, one of those days…

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Thoughts on starting a new…

Is there anything more chilling than getting started in unfamiliar territory?  With a new venture, new skill or new idea – there’s always a way of demoting its value as soon a more cosy option comes along.  I’m acutely aware of my distractions and nerves that appear when I start a new path.  I feel them strongly now as I write.  I love words and enjoy finding the right fit – in speech I don’t over think it, but in writing, my self doubt creeps in fast.

I do have some exceptions to this fear of the new and I try to recall them whenever I become the beginner.  Dancing and art and design, the fun and the work in my life – are somehow staying free from pervading doubts of the new.  I thought I’d use these more positive areas to tackle the issue of ‘getting started’. 

I love to learn a new dance.  Any style, I enjoy getting shown new steps, watching others move and trying to copy, responding to new music and old tunes – I don’t have to think about it too much and I trust myself.  Dancing stays close to my heart and frequent in my life.  Learning it as a child, I’ve had years of growing to love dance without concern for outcomes.  I share that because I’m certain our hobbies quietens our inner critic of self, gets us out of ourselves and into the world.     

Art and design, although hopefully still for fun, is also my place of work and expectations are higher.  When I’m starting a new technique or process, I think I probably shift the emphasis from being the learner to being the teacher of myself.  Maybe a trick to boost my confidence.  The nature of art and design means I’ve governed myself from day one – using a thankfully, still-full cup of curiosity.  The beautiful magazine Oh Comely uses this idea as it’s tag line – ‘keep your curiosity sacred’.  Look after this and the rest seems to follow.  My own, old adage goes something like – ‘I’ll get started when my curiosity outweighs my fear.’  So me staying interested is vital.

Looking and then doing, broadly sums up my approach to art and design.  Not editing or judging too soon, just experimenting.  My own obsessions have become clear – abstraction, colour, texture and shape.  That’s it.  That’s what I’m curious about.

In four years since starting my business C F McEwan, my words have always been focused on the label, the news and the aesthetic, which I have found difficult to describe.  Perhaps because I always wrote about the final outcome or artworks or products without letting the reader into the journey of how I got there.  Unsettled as I am as I write this, my intention is to share a little more.  Practical insight to this looking and doing, ideas people can try themselves for their own, possibly new creative path.  

I’m excited to develop some new online content which I hope will support other’s fears of getting creative.  To pick up a paintbrush regardless of an alien feeling and ‘I’m no artist’ mantra.  That’s what I hear around me – from adults.  Kids always tell me how they’re already an artist or planning to be.  If ‘I’m no writer’, writing this blog post, then in solidarity I’m battling the same thing.

I’m sure the reasons for continuing along a creative path are varied and often a mystery to the maker.  But whether it’s passion or curiosity that drives it, the will is there to be harnessed.  For me, looking and doing are constant in my life.  A studio churns away in my head as I collect and archive colour and composition around me.  It keeps me mindful and ready with a store of ideas. 

Long journeys can be fruitful – with lots of time to collect.  Urban and natural sprawl from the window to extract and mentally re-compose.  I gently configure plans without pressure to ‘produce’.  I’m sure this looking time is not always fully conscious and thankfully a safe place from censor.

What I think I’m doing is cheating the newness so when I come to the doing part – the creating of artwork, I’ve already started.  The white is page bypassed.  I already know what I’m curious about.  Notes, sketches, tear outs, photos, are all collected by the time I get to work.

I was going to skip straight to the doing part of my practice, in this, my blog-a-venture, offer some tips, how to, demos etc.  And I will.  But writing this has highlighted the bit before doing.  What does the ‘looking stage’ look like?  Maybe that is a helpful place to start the sharing of my work. 

In 2016 I carved out some time to pause – catch up on some website changes and plan next season.  That’s useful.  But what’s also happened…I’ve got a new phone with a better camera!  And a secret (to me) health app that’s been recording my walking steps.  Now I’ve discovered my stats page, I’m walking more to beat yesterdays score.  A camera and walking – seems a good place to share this weeks’ looking. 

My next post will focus on using walking to ‘find colour’ and then, in addition – discover new textures, forms and materials.  Armed with my new, not-too-flashy camera phone and comfy shoes, I walk 10,000 steps, up and around my August home in Scotland.  Not a Highland in sight, this is low key Scotland, the everyday, a town on the cusp of urban and country and that – as I will exclaim is my preferred creative dwelling.  I’m zoning in on the flowering weeds growing from roofs and local names scratched into tree bark.  I study gravel footpaths and the flower beds that get watered regularly – even on a dreach* day.  Skirting the line of faint neglect and proud upkeep.  

*Dreach ‘a dreach day’ (Gaelic for a day that is gloomy with rain) 

If you’re interested in the abstract, hidden patterns, unexpected colour ways then these posts will be naturally relevant to you.  If you’re interested in a ‘getting started’ process to navigate your own creative project, then keep an eye out for some ideas.  I’m embarking on a season of revelation.  I plan to simply to reveal more of my process.  How I move from 2d, 3d artworks to digital through to product. 

To hear more about my creative projects and how you can join in for yourself – sign up to be notified about The New Creative free mini course launching in January 2018.

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Great news for C F McEwan scarves to be selected for the style pages at Bath Life Magazine this August.  Celebrating Ladies Day at Bath Racecourse, it’s a beautiful edit of fashion ideas for dressing up for Summer.   Local, independent stockist Magpie & Bear in Bath holds a great selection of C F McEwan silk scarves for the season – ideal for those very special occasions.

Have a look at the latest edition of Bath Life Magazine here.

New paintings created for the Well House Gallery in Horndon on the Hill this summer.

Painting, print and drawing on canvas.  See more of the work on Clare’s tumblr work in progress blog.

The gallery re-opens on August 22nd.

A few images from the recent Dartford Creative Art in the Public Realm project this summer.  Great to be part of creating new works for Dartford town and residents.

Have a look at Clare’s blog about her work titled Carving the View.  Focusing on the town’s architecture and viewpoints and presented as a series of lenticulars using bricks and railings.

Photographs of artwork by Praxis Creative Photography