Inspired by a love of sailing and archaeology, interdisciplinary artist Amy Rusch employs stitched thread in layers of found plastic bags and nylon sails. She talks to us about the treasured personal items that have been her bedrock.
WORDS Amy Rusch PHOTOS Jan Ras
Choosing these objects was easier than I’d imagined. They are belongings; I belong to them, and they belong to me. We inhabit the same living and making space. Each is a porthole of access to family, to memory, and to a sense of awe in relation to the living world. Many of the pieces were made, held, worn or formed long before my birth; in many ways, they have added to how I’m able to be who I am. They are valued beyond measure.
Bezoar Stone
Two days aft er my paternal grandmother Sunray passed away, my dad and I went to visit her sister, who said to choose anything from her home, saying she no longer needed “things”. I was immediately drawn to this round stone – which, once I held it, I realised was not a stone at all. Smooth and much lighter, it’s a bezoar stone – a hairball from the stomach of a goat from the family farm. Historically, bezoar stones are thought to have healing properties. A bezoar could be worn as a charm, ground into powder and consumed, or dropped into a drink that’s suspected to contain poison. They can be found in the stomachs of goats, oxen, snakes and porcupines. I feel incredibly grateful to be the custodian of this magical, mystical ball.
Bird-call Instrument
Just before my god-daughter Kino was born, my dad spent several days making and perfecting two little instruments made of wood harvested from a searsia tree growing in the garden. The correct amount of friction and rosin [pine sap resin] makes the wood call out like a bird. One instrument was given to Erin and Nic as a gift for the soon-to-be-born Kino – and in an uncomplicated moment when my dad walked me to my car that same afternoon, he handed me the second instrument. I was very moved.
Ancestral Threads
Receiving the first cotton threads on wooden bobbins from Nouchi, my maternal great-grandmother, was a catalyst. I began experimenting with these threads in high school; they were the access point to a form of expression mark-making using the thread line and imprint. I now have a collection of inherited threads from both sides of the family – a daily material access point to the female makers in my family.
Nana’s Chair
I inherited these chairs from my maternal grandmother Nana. I made new canvas covers for them, and replaced the worn arm strapping with blue rope. I have memories from childhood of these chairs in my grandmother’s home; of family members at the table. I love that they’ve held bodies, conversations, gatherings; that they’ve held family around a table in celebration… and in disagreement. They hold the potential to keep holding, and have been my studio chairs for 10 years.
Ammonite Fossils
These ammonite fossils were given to me and my sister when we were kids by John Parkington, my mother’s stepfather and a professor of archaeology. They are a connection to deep time, to life’s changing cycles, and to archaeology. They are reminders of continuous change, and how matter that feels permeable and fluid can change form, becoming stone under the right conditions. They feel like a starting point from all the way back to my present interest and work in archaeology.
Stone Pine Lino Print
This lino print was given to me by my maternal grandpa Marc, years before he passed away. On the day he passed, I sat watching the evening light change to darkness, the stone pines and the mountain turning from pink to orange to blue, and then to darkness. This is an image that transports me to a memory of a life’s transition – what it means to live a full and present life.
Twin Fish Quilt
My mom made this quilt 37 years ago while pregnant with me. They are the first transmissions I received through her womb – of working with hands and threads; of making in preparation for my birth. I feel that, in some ways, this piece is an early waypoint on the path towards my way of making now. This blanket holds so much of me and who I’ve become. It’s beautiful, and practical, and full of deep symbolism.
Rock Pots
When gardening with my mom about seven years ago, digging in the earth I came across two rocks with holes in their centre. After a good scrubbing, it became clear that these were pottery pieces made by my grandmother, Nana, in 1976. There was something wonderful about finding them buried in the soil in my parents’ back garden – it felt like digging up treasure in a miraculous moment of discovery. There’s still soil that spills out of their centre holes.
Wind Rose Wooden Sea Kayak
Building Wind Rose felt like a rite of passage – a return to tactile, slow and meticulous making. Working on and off, it took me three years to build her, and it was this process that slowly shifted me closer to finding voice, allowing my making way to surface, and trusting that things will find their place in time – and that time is not linear. She was a transition marker, a guide, and a process of learning wooden boatbuilding from my father. Our kayaks – Little Leaf and Wind Rose – are built from the same plans, but slight adjustments that I made to the keelson and the cockpit coaming (the raised rim around the cockpit) make them different. Wind Rose has allowed me to follow ancestral threads of connection to the ocean, seafaring, boatbuilding and navigation. Both boats are built of 3mm Japanese marine plywood, with an Oregon pine keelson, coaming and gunwales.
Nutshell Sailing Boat
My dad built two little wooden nutshell sailing boats during my mom’s pregnancy. I learnt to sail in these boats – they were the porthole and my first interaction with sailing, working with wind, and the craft of wooden boatbuilding. Like the quilt my mom made while I was in utero, I feel that my dad’s process of building these wooden boats transmitted towards a growing Amy. As physical objects, they have been a practical access point to ancestral seafaring, navigation, and interaction with the ocean, rivers and lagoons – but symbolically, they hold so much more. Through both the Twin- Fish quilt and this pair of nutshell sailing boats, I feel very strong ties to who I am in the present, today. | @amy.rusch
Don’t forget to sign up to our weekly newsletter for the latest architecture and design news.
