CHRISTINE PRESCOTT REFLECTS ON HER RECENT SOLO EXHIBITION AT CUSTOM HOUSE STUDIOS + GALLERY.
How do artists materially navigate migration and find belonging within an unfamiliar ecology?
Originally from rural Australia, I came to Ireland in 2007. For years, I looked back to that parched country and hot sun for its dry, dusty aesthetic. I had grown with that landscape, learned to crawl on its earth, explored markings made from grasses, insects, and animal tracks. I knew intimately how the sound and scent of the country would change as day passed into night and back into morning. This is what happens when children grow up in a place: they become part of it, and it becomes a part of them.
Custom House Studios + Gallery in Westport recently showcased my solo exhibition, ‘Rites of Homing’. This new body of work traverses the emotional and ecological distance between the semi-arid plains of SW Queensland and the rain-rich island of Ireland. Through poetic sculptural assemblages and intricate works on paper, I explored migration and how sites of nurture and nourishment can be found within unfamiliar landscapes.
The exploration was three-pronged. To begin, I went into the woods in a conscious effort to get to know my new homeland more deeply, like I would have done if I had been born here. My arts practice is rooted in natural materials, and, having been formally trained in textiles and sculpture at the turn of the millennium, I sought to revisit a skill-based practice through courses with basket makers, Ciaran Hogan, Tim Johnson and Mai Hvid Jørgensen. Their teachings introduced me to new materials and rhythmic processes which perfectly complemented my experiences within local woodlands. I also came across the work of immunologist, Dr Qing Li, who researched the health benefits of nature immersion, and was inspired to undertake additional training as a Forest Bathing Guide.
The real work of making art took place during a three-year studio residency at the Custom House. The studio was vital, sustaining the work in uninterrupted flow. Harvesting, weaving, stitching and repetitive mark-making, recur in my arts practice as slow, meditative rituals. Each material and process is considered and contributes to the whole. ‘Rites of Homing’ would not have been such a coherent show, without this dedicated space.
In Lay me down in pastures green and fair (2026), I sat outside in the sun and stillness of late spring, braiding rushes into a pillowcase, weaving a place to rest upon this land. Rush is abundant in Mayo and often crafted into Saint Brigid’s Crosses each spring. Braiding the rush evoked feelings of love and closeness, a muscle memory of being a young girl, braiding friends’ hair and having my own braided. To Hold (2026) is an image of my son, his hair braided in a spiral around his head, echoing the style I used to create as a teenager; the same style is repeated in the woven sculptures Nestle (2025) and Let’s Dance (2025), which are both held in the curves of ivy wood.
Sensorial memory informed other works too. Tracks (2026) and Shingleback Creek (2026) are made with spruce bark and recall the dried flakes of mud formed in shallow puddles on the dirt roads back home. The pieces of bark are held in place with a meandering stitch that mimics lizard tracks or the aerial roots of vines, to form works that climb up or around the gallery walls.
Three large drawings, Drift (2025), Currents (2026), and Earth. Skin. Scale (2024) were created through repetitive patterning of small circles of red wine. This process induces a lulling, meditative state reminiscent of water lapping on the shore or clouds moving across the sky. The finished works embody this, becoming mountain ranges, tree canopies, skin, cells, and earth – all at once. Their sculptural counterparts, Lull (2026) and Linger. Longing Still (2025), are made from garlic skins, stitched and hung from single strands of hair. Sharing the same delicate lilac hue as the drawings, they move slowly with the air currents, inviting the viewer to pause.
The Tate’s ‘Guide to Slow Looking’ tells us that gallery visitors spend an average of 8 seconds looking at a work of art. But art, like nature, rewards slow looking. We installed benches in the gallery, a simple gesture that acknowledges the need to rest and encouraged viewers to stay awhile, to look, and experience the generosity held within the materials and processes.
Commanding the most attention in the gallery space was Find Some Things To Love (2026), a large convex form made from harvested willow bark and blanket-stitched with multi-coloured pieces of cotton thread. Every step of this piece was a sensory joy, with the title reading like an instruction: This is how to make a home somewhere, find what nurtures you, what nourishes you, and follow that. Go to the place where you feel held.
Christine Prescott is a visual artist and forest bathing guide.
christineprescottstudio.com
