Edna

Spirit Sail – Design (1)

Posted on 05/12/2014 by Andrea Eimke

The Sail

A sail can be defined as a large piece of strong cloth that can catch the wind to move a vessel or vehicle forward.[1] Sails, affixed to single hull and double hull voyaging canoes, were instrumental in the discovery and population of the Pacific islands. Their form reflected in infinite variety the imagination and experimentations of the different peoples who explored the vast extensions of the Pacific ocean and populated their countless islands.[2]

Most of their sails were triangular, attached to v-shaped spars. They were made of vegetable material such as pandanus which was plaited in strips and might have been sewn together with cord twined from bark fibres such as oronga (Touchardia latifolia) or au (Hibiscus tiliaceus).

Even though the wooden and later iron sailing ships of seafaring European explorers differed hugely from the well-balanced Pacific islands catamarans, their square or triangular cloth sails were also shaped to accommodate the play of wind and water forces. Like the Edna, they had many differently shaped sails.

Sailcloth, also called ‘duck’, derived from the Dutch word for cloth = doek, was woven from strong flax or hemp, and in the 19th century, cotton fibres[3]. Today, most sails are made of synthetic materials[4].

Spirit

Spirit – from Latin spiritus = soul, courage, vigor, breath[5] – can be considered the non-material, the essence, the animating force that brings a body to life, the energy that propels us forward (French: l’esprit), the in-spiration that gives a project momentum, the a-spiration that causes us to reach a goal. Spirit is synonymous with psyche, soul, and in some languages such as my own (spirit in German = Geist) with mind. Spirit is “the self-supporting absolutely real ultimate being (Wesen = essence).”[6]

What would a Spirit Sail have to look like?

In my “quest for the perfect shape” of this ‘spirit sail’ I learn that “[t]here is no such thing as the best sail shape – there are countless different “best” shapes, depending on the wind, waves, boat type & size, even weather & air temperature.”[7] Duh, no help here! I guess, it will be entirely up to my imagination.

So: what do I want it to look like?

it should have a preferably universal sail shape to be recognizable as a sail
it should be transparent to refer to the spirit’s invisibility
it should be delicate without being frail to hint at spiritual acuity
it should be visible in daylight and at night-time to symbolise the infinity of spirit
it should be textile – textile signifying for me both text and touch
it should be large enough to be seen from afar and small enough to be made in my studio

I will use the materials that I have brought and will still bring in touch with the Edna’s remains. I ordered Polymer ribbon that glows in the dark after having been exposed to UV light. I am awaiting textile heat-set paint medium to experiment with rare earth pigments that have the same effect.

From photographs I could gather that both the Edna and our Cook Islands Vaka (double-hull voyaging canoe) “Marumaru Atua” use(d) a jib. Consequently my spirit sail will have a jib-like triangular shape. Based on the dimensions of the Edna, a suitable jib’s longest side would have to be some 12 m long. However my sail will not have to be functional and for practical reasons I will make it half that size which is more manageable considering work space and materials.

Lessons

My first experiment relates to the woven strips that Pacific islands sails were made of. I tear two of my rust-impregnated fabrics into strips and weave them together.

The double layer of woven strips will make the resulting cloth strong. Once finish I realize that the cloth, being much softer than dried pandanus strips of course, does not hold together all that well when woven in strips.

The weaving needs to be strengthened by sewing the layers together so that the sample can keep up its shape under the stress of movement. First lesson learned.

I decide that I don’t want to paint a design on to my sail, but I don’t just want it to be plain either. I want the design to develop from the way I manipulate the various materials, be it their shape or their colour or both. Both waves and the airflow that propels a sail forward create vortices[8]. This has inspired me to use the spiral as my spirit sail’s symbol.

Machine-sewn lace techniques will give my sail certain transparency. My next sample uses some of the torn-fabric strings, with which I have bound materials to the Edna’s remains, as basic material.

The ironed strips are pinned to soluble stabilizer to stay in place while joining them together. The stabilizer will eventually be washed out once the sewing is finished.

The wet season has started and I learn my second lesson: Fabric that has been soaked in salt water – as have all the fabrics that touched the Edna – needs to be washed until all salt has been washed out! I was too lazy to do so and now find that the salty fabric soaks up moisture from the air. The moist fabric makes the water-soluble (!) stabilizer sticky and nearly impossible to work with!

I cannot use the free-form technique I had in mind but I get there in the end…

In this sample I incorporate small pieces of the fairly expensive luminous ribbon just to try it out. The material is very rubbery and not exactly easy to sew through. My machine skips a few stitches here and there. I learn my third lesson: I need to reduce the speed when sewing over the ribbon.

I am happy with the way it glows in the dark. The ribbon certainly has potential and offers me more design possibilities.

Photoshop

There are endless possibilities for patterning the sail. The two sewing samples are only the start. I use Photoshop and play with their photos to get an idea of what can be done.

[1] http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sail

[2] Guiot, H. (2007), Va’a – La pirogue polynésienne, Au Vent des Îles, French Polynesia: Tahiti

[3] http://www.thedearsurprise.com/a-brief-history-of-sailcloth-during-the-age-of-sail/

[4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sailcloth

[5] spirit. (n.d.). Dictionary.com Unabridged. Retrieved December 04, 2014, from Dictionary.com website: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/spirit

[6] Hegel, G.W.F. (1807, 2010), The Phenomenology of Spirit (The Phenomenology of Mind), Digireads.com Publishing, Kindle Edition, Loc. 6336

[7] http://www.wb-sails.fi/Portals/209338/news/98_11_PerfectShape/Main.htm

[8] http://www.wb-sails.fi/Portals/209338/news/99_1_AeroShape/Aero.htm

Edna’s own sails

Posted on 21/10/201421/10/2014 by Andrea Eimke

While conducting my experiments, I have also been researching the Edna’s background. I want to know more about her history, however there is not much that can be found on the Internet.

The Edna’s last captain, the late Nancy Griffith, lived in Hawaii. My artist friend Judith Kunzlé lived on Rarotonga when the Edna sailed Cook Islands waters and knew Nancy. Judith recently moved to Hawaii. Today she sent me a copy of Nancy’s stunning photograph of the Edna in full sail. Isn’t she beautiful?

If any of you, readers of my blog, has any information or photographs on MS Edna and her history, I’d much appreciate to hear from you.

Tapa and rust (5)

Posted on 09/10/2014 by Andrea Eimke

Excited and curious, Kareen and I return to Ava Tapu beach. Will the frame still be there? I don’t really feel like digging it out of the sand again. I would be sad to have lost such a valuable piece of rust. Does that sound strange? One (wo)man’s trash is this rust dyer’s treasure… As we descend I am relieved to see the boomerang-like shape of the frame still stuck in Edna’s bow. The bark has dried and is stuck to the frame. Untying the knots in the builders line is a fiddly job.

I carefully peel the thin bark off the rusty metal. The coloring is so wonderful, ranging from yellow to rusty-brown with black stains where the frame has made contact with the soaked bark. The frame’s protruding screws have moulded the bark and embossed their shape into the material. Do I really want to beat it again?

I like the bizarre, flame-like shape the tapa has now. Held against the light we can appreciate how thin the bark is. It is firm and yet soft to the touch. What must it have been like to wear such bark as a garment?

Even the “dont-remove tape” has acquired new colours in all shades of the rainbow. The wash-away frame has become my favourite rusting tool. I wrap it with a new piece of cloth to have something to look forward to when I come back next time.

The wash-away frame

Posted on 02/10/201404/10/2014 by Andrea Eimke

In search for rusty bits and pieces that will help me dye fabrics, I wander into the bow of the Edna. She welcomes and rewards me instantly. I find this amazing frame with protruding screws on both sides that promise me regular rusty dots – my inner eye can just see them…

I drag the frame to the front where I have placed the collections of “fabrics of the day” and some lengths of builders line. There is better light here and some coral boulders that serve me as work tables and chairs. Soon the frame is safely wrapped with salt-water-soaked cotton fabric and bound tightly.

The sea has been calm. I decide to place the frame in front of Edna’s bow, high up on the beach in the sand in order to let the frame’s weight add some extra pressure to the fabric for better marking.

When I return the next day, I am shocked. According to my time calculations it should be low tide and the sea calm. Instead high waves are still breaking on the bottom of Ava Tapu beach and – my precious frame has disappeared! Disappointed I scan the beach area.

Eventually I find a small cloth surface that protrudes through the pieces of coral and sand, buried between two heavy boulders right by the edge of the sea some ten meters or so away from where I had placed the wrapped frame. With a stick I try to dig it out but to no avail. I mark the area with my digging stick, just in case. I will have to return with a shovel. Normally I power-walk down to the beach which I will certainly not do with a shovel on my shoulder…!

Kareen, a new friend, arrives to stay with us for a week. I have seen on her blog that she is an excellent photographer. Kareen offers to help me with the digging so we take the car down to the beach.

When I look for my mark it has – of course – disappeared. After some searching I glimpse a rusty fabric patch under a different boulder and the digging can begin in serious. Sand and water have sucked and pushed the wrapped frame deep under.

The two of us take turns in digging, scraping, pulling and photographing until we are finally rewarded with some movement. The frame’s sides have come unwrapped. Both have broken shorter.

The fabric has acquired beautiful patterns of all shades from black to orange. The material seems intact with the exception of a few holes. Like sand-washed jeans, I think. If ever I want to ‘age’ fabric artificially, now I know what to do: bury it in the sand at Ava Tapu beach.

After some more digging we can grab at the fabric and pull, pull hard and – yay! Finally the sand releases the frame and its wrapping cloth.

I can’t wait to untie the knots to release the fabric. What a delight of colours!

It is just the right light this late afternoon.

The sand needs washing out.

The sun paints patterns on the floating fabric.

It is low tide, the sea and the sky are of a deep blue. Orange growth on the reef echoes the colours of Edna’s new cloth.

Relaxing from the hard work we are happy about the result

All we want now is an orange sunset.

Rust

Posted on 10/09/201404/10/2014 by Andrea Eimke

By now I have discovered which rusty parts of the Edna give me no prints, some prints and really good prints. Rust results from exposure of iron or steel to oxygen (air) and moisture (water). The process can be intensified through contaminants such as salt. I found information on the Internet about the different kinds of rust. There are four easily distinguishable categories:

Red rust or hydrated oxide (Fe2O3•H2O) which results from constant exposure of iron to air, water and, in this case, salt.
Yellow rust or iron oxide-hydroxide (FeO(OH)H2O) which can be found in areas that are constantly exposed to high moisture, like standing water.
Brown rust or oxide (Fe2O3) which is a drier form of rust and most likely atmospheric, i.e. a reaction to humid air and contaminants such as salt.
Black rust or iron (II) oxide (Fe3O4) which forms in a low-oxygen environment like under water.
For a good result of my dye experiments, the overall firm contact of cloth and oxidised metal is important. I learned by experiment that this excludes a large amount of rusty remains which cannot be properly wrapped either for their size or place, as e.g. on the bow of the vessel where attachment is a challenge if not impossible.

A little bay at the end of Ava Tapu beach where bits and pieces are stuck between blocks of coral has become my prefered ‘harvesting’ ground. My dogs enjoy our excursions there, because they like playing with the crabs that hide between the boulders.
This rusty rod is my absolute favourite rust supplier. It leaves wonderful traces on my pieces of cloth.

Dyes and Don’ts

Posted on 08/09/201408/09/2014 by Andrea Eimke

The reef clings to some major parts of the Edna. With the rising and falling of the tides, the water covers and uncovers them. Sometimes it is just a caress, other times a rather passionate bashing. If I wrap my fabrics around those, will the dye result be different, better even than that from the beached parts?

At the far end of the beach’s reef there is what looks like part of a skeleton, an iron spine with ribs protruding on either side. Contained in it is a long chain. I assume it’s the anchor chain. No longer able to hold on to the support of the deep-sea bed, its links broke when wind and water pushed the Edna onto the reef. The chain has mostly lost its flexibility and is rusted solid and attached to the rib-like cage. Two narrow pieces of cotton fabric may soak up some of the wet rust that colours the remnants in all shades of yellow, orange, brown, charcoal and black.

Closer to the Edna’s bow lies a winch. I am dreaming of the cog’s imprints, lines and lines of rust on my fabric… When I return the next day, the sea is rough – there were earthquakes in Chile and Hawaii – and my wrapping cloth seems gone. But Moana Nui a Kiva, the Big Blue Ocean, has just been mocking me. When the waters calm, I find my fabric submerged in between seaweeds and still attached by its safety chord. Hopeful I re-attach it again.

While the rib cage – as I have dubbed it – has given my cloths a beautiful golden-yellow coat with some rusty marks (see above), my dreams of regular rusty lines from the cog have not come true. Just a few red stains show up and some black smear which reveals why the winch is black and its rust doesn’t dye: decades of keeping it greased. I should have thought of that from the start! I must go and find out more about rust…

I enjoy this dialogue with the sea, the Edna and her resting place, these lessons which I learn from observation and inference. They make me feel humble and open to new experiences. They give me answers and create new questions.

Beginnings

Posted on 30/08/201408/09/2014 by Andrea Eimke

Beginnings…

…are wonderful moments. Everything is still possible. The mind is free to wander – and wonder how to fill an empty page with something meaningfull. I have reached such a moment, the beginning of a new project. This blog will be a visual diary through an exciting creative journey that I have embarked on. I welcome you as my passengers, commentators, advisors and critics.

Protagonist in my visual narrative is Edna, a Dutch-built schooner that was beached at Ava Tapu, the ‘Sacred Harbour’ on Atiu, in November 1990. M/S Edna was chartered by the Ngaputoru Shipping Company to service the Cook Islands’ Southern Group islands. Overnighting at Atiu harbour before continuing her voyage to neighbouring Mitiaro, a change of wind and strong currents pushed the vessel on the reef of the tiny beach just next to Atiu’s harbour. Though no life was lost, most of the uninsured cargo was beyond salvaging.

Later hurricane-force winds wedged the broken remains into a passage in the fossilized coral rocks, blocking the access passage to an ancient sacred site. At Orongo Marae i Tai, Atiu people once welcomed visitors (or slayed invaders). A multitude of scattered pieces can be found buried along the tiny beach and on the reef. It looks as if the island has been slowly ‘incorporating’ Edna as a ‘permanent resident’.

In the following weeks and months, I will present more background information, describing in detail how my new project involves the Edna and documenting the work’s progress. I appreciate your interest and comments.