Monument to the Sheep that Died on the Hills Above Lochwinnoch
Sydney Switzer
About Sydney Switzer
Sydney Switzer currently serves as the Scotland Senior Educator for UJIA in Glasgow, Scotland, following two years working in Jewish education with the JDC in Mumbai, India. She has worked with Jewish communities all around the world, from her native Canada to Poland, Hungary, Israel, India and now Scotland. Sydney graduated in 2017 from Emily Carr University of Art and Design in Vancouver, Canada with a BFA in Photography and a Minor in Social Practice and Community Engagement. Through her work, Sydney blends photography and textiles with her passion for Jewish enrichment, focusing on explorations of contemporary Jewish identity, as well as narratives of homelands, landscapes, traditions and cultural encounters. Recently, Sydney has been exploring processes of making. From gardening to fermenting, foraging, home-dyeing and spinning wool, much of her work makes use of traditional processes and skills native to the places she inhabits. She loves to travel, write, and make things. Keep up with her adventures in Scotland and beyond at sydneyswitzer.com.
About Monument to the Sheep that Died on the Hills Above Lochwinnoch
As I was walking on the hills above Lochwinnoch one morning on the last day of February, I happened across a sheep that had died in the winter. Its body had disintegrated, and its fleece lay scattered across the hillside. I walked across the slope, bending to pick clumps of white from the spring grass. It was like the last remnants of snow, hanging on to the winter, the last vestiges of life clinging to their form before disappearing back into the earth. I collected the last pieces of that sheep, stuffing them into my pockets, revelling in the early spring sunshine and the beauty of life, my hands warmed by the soft touch of wool. Back in my kitchen I combed through with my fingers, pulling out brambles and bits of dead grass. I washed the fleece and combed it, and spun it into a soft two-ply. I dug my fingers into the remains of that sheep time and again as I wound it into a ball and knit it into a delicate lace. ____‘Monument to the Sheep that Died on the Hills Above Lochwinnoch’ is deeply rooted in ideas of land and material, and how materials relate to their sources. The piece consists of a lace blanket, knit with hand-spun yarn, spun from foraged wool. The finished blanket is brought back to the place where the wool was found, harvested from the disintegrated remains of a sheep. The materials are intimately related to the land in which they’re found. Similar to land left fallow during the shmita year, beauty is harvested from the leftovers, and something substantive is put together from scattered remains. The piece urges the viewer to consider the spiritual potential of the land by focussing on the intimate connection between the land and its products.
Monument to the Sheep that Died on the Hills Above Lochwinnoch
As I was walking on the hills above Lochwinnoch one morning on the last day of February, I happened across a sheep that had died in the winter. Its body had disintegrated, and its fleece lay scattered across the hillside.
I walked across the slope, bending to pick clumps of white from the spring grass. It was like the last remnants of snow, hanging on to the winter, the last vestiges of life clinging to their form before disappearing back into the earth.
I collected the last pieces of that sheep, stuffing them into my pockets, revelling in the early spring sunshine and the beauty of life, my hands warmed by the soft touch of wool.
Back in my kitchen I combed through with my fingers, pulling out brambles and bits of dead grass. I soaked the fleece and washed it, combed it and spun it into a soft two-ply. I dug my fingers into the remains of that sheep time and again as I wound it into a ball and knit it into a delicate lace.
I wonder if anybody ever loved that sheep during its life as intimately as I did after its death. If anybody had ever given it the care and affection that I did as I picked bits of its wool out of the spring grass that morning on the last day of February?
____
In mid-September I returned to the place where I had found the sheep. I recognized it by a dip in the hillside. In early autumn, the grass was vivid green, littered with the yellow remains of ragwort and buttercups. Cows roamed the hillside, while there were still sheep in the field below. I sat down and began my work.
___
At the end of November I returned a final time, my work completed. I lay the blanket in the grass, where I had found it 9 months earlier. The sun shone golden light over the hills above Lochwinnoch, illuminating each stitch, each stray piece of wool. It lay in the grass, white on green, flecked with bits of nature, while I marvelled at the process of making, and thanked the world for its bounty.