Copyright is owned by the Author of the thesis.  Permission is given for 
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Tracing Pathways

Exploring sense of place through 
metaphor and material.

A thesis submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Design

Massey University, Wellington, New Zealand 

Penny Ronald 

2018



3

“When we look at the world as a world of places 
we see different things. We see attachments and 
connections between people and place. We see 
worlds of meaning and experience.” 
- (Cresswell, 2004, p. 11).

Figure 1. My familys farm in Fairfax, 2017.



54

This research project seeks to highlight local textile production by exploring 

the concept of place in the context of design practice. Focusing on the farm in 

Southland where I am from, weaving has been used as a metaphor in order to 

interpret the place conceptually as well as materially through using natural 

colorants and wool from New Zealand.

Notions of thinking through making have informed my design methodology, 

using the process of developing iterations of different drawings and designs to 

influence the resolve of the final outcome. The research celebrates residue of 

process, showing the constraints of what my physical body was able to weave 

in relation to the immensity of the farm landscape.  

I have contextualized my final outcome of a woven pathway within the 

framework and principles of slow design, developing a provocation which 

aims to create discussion around localism and slow textile processes such as 

natural dye and weave. As is the goal of all slow design, the overarching aim 

is to contribute to the shift towards sustainability, with the suggestion that 

this project could be expanded to include different localities, or to influence 

designs of a commercial nature.

Abstract
At the heart of this project is my passion for New Zealand wool. This is the 

key driver for my exploration and the material that is used throughout this 

project. I intend to highlight connections between the crossbred wool 

industry and localism by delving deeper into my family’s farm where wool is 

grown. Through slow design, I intend to provoke the viewer to consider more 

holistically the connection between wool, and the area which it 

originates from. 

The thinking through making framework has allowed me to authentically 

 approach this research project as a journey, revealing the many layers of the 

farm and new pathways that have emerged as the project developed. I have 

chosen to order this exposition accordingly, describing new layers of research 

and design iterations as they have developed and then bringing the research 

together by examining slow design principles and localism. 

Figure 2. Workbook page exploring drawings of maps and movement.



76

Acknowledgements
Thank you to Wool Yarns NZ for the Jim Woods Memorial Scholarship. Thank you to my supervisors Dr. Sandy Heffernan, 

and Dr. Faith Kane for your knowledge, support, and guidance, without which the pathways researched this year would not 

have stretched as far or as wide. Thank you to Dr. Caroline Campbell and the wider Massey University community for your 

feedback, encouragement and ideas. And lastly, thank you to my family, friends and the MESS crew, for keeping me 

motivated, caffeinated, and reassured.

Figure 3. Weaving on the AVL loom, Massey University Wellington, 2018.



98

Introduction: Mapping the Journey        
46°12’46.3”S 168°02’18.7”E Farifax and the family farm

The current landscape of wool

Literature Review: Place as Metaphor     
Place in current design practice

Defining place

Patterns and movement

Maps and pathways

Identity

Metaphor

Methodology: Embodiment of Method   

Process
Movement

Liquid/ flow

Natural dye

Materiality

Contents
Findings
Locality and sustainability

Returning to place

Slow design

Speculative design

Final Design: Manifest

Conclusion

Reference list

Bibliography

Illustration list

Figure 4. My familys farm in Fairfax, 2017.



1110

Introduction: Mapping the Journey 46°12’46.3”S 168°02’18.7”E –
Fairfax and the family farm

I grew up on my family’s small 200-acre sheep farm in Fairfax, Western 

Southland. Working on the farm is my parents’ livelihoods, and as kids we grew 

up helping out with the seasonal work that was is involved with farming sheep. 

For me wool was always at the centre; I recall days spent in the shearing shed 

helping to sort the fleeces after they are shorn, still warm and dirty with grease. 

These were then pressed into bales to be sold. This first step in the journey of 

wool production also marked the first step for me into a pathway that would 

lead to my study of textile design. Wool was always very important, and woollen 

jumpers were passed down through generations, to keep warm in the southern 

winters. This was where my passion for wool and textiles started, dabbling in 

knitting, felting, and weaving from a young age. 

The background to this research is my past year of undergraduate study, a 

Bachelor of Design with Honours. My research was based on the old woolsheds 

from the countryside. I developed a rich body of imagery, with the missing 

panels of roofing, timber boards, and the beautiful decay of the sheds which 

were worn with age. My main process was translating the geometrics and shafts 

of light into tapestry weave. Using woven patterns, I was able to create both 

block patterns, as well as one off images within the cloth. This confirmed my 

enjoyment for the AVL loom and weave as a technique and is the reason I have 

used weave as my main process in the work presented in this research project. 
Figure 5. Google Map Data. (2018). Map of Southland area. [Satelite map of Western Southland New Zealand].  Retrieved from https://www.google.com/maps/@-
46.2133723,168.0144662,10738m/data=!3m1!1e3

Figure 6. Google Map Data. (2018). Map of New Zealand marking location of Fairfax. 
[Map of Western Southland New Zealand]. Retrieved from https://www.google.com/
maps/place/Fairfax+9683/@-46.2092932,167.972678,13z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1
s0xa9d2fe123d837067:0x500ef8684797a30!8m2!3d-46.2159083!4d168.0113652

Figure 7. The sheep on the farm in Fairfax, 2017.



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Thinking about the current landscape of wool in New Zealand is where I 

have initially situated my research project. By taking the thinking through
making approach, I have allowed wool as a material to guide me to delve 

much deeper into the study of a single place. This in turn has highlighted 

ideas of localism and sustainable slow design processes. My aim for the final 

woven provocation is for it to act as a metaphor to explore and show the 

pattern, movement and expanse of the farmland.  This final will fit into the 

framework of slow design, as the overarching theme and goal of slow design 

is to be a provocation both for designers and individuals to evaluate and 

reflect on their design methods, ideas, and objects and the quality of these in 

order to push towards more sustainable alternatives (Strauss & 

Fuad-Luke, 2009).

The current landscape of wool

Two events which impacted my thinking were the Wool Innovation Day 

in Christchurch  and Wool Expo in Wellington . These experiences made 

me aware of the gap in the New Zealand Market for crossbred wool. In 

Wellington during the Wool Expo, Agriculture Minister Damien O’Connor told 

the crowd of the virtues of wool, followed by the problems that the industry 

is currently faced with; “Under siege from animal rights groups and out-

competed by synthetic products, the coarse wool sector is in crisis” (as cited 

in Hutching, 2018). He expressed the importance of promoting wool to be a 

sustainable and valuable product and the need for changes in the sector. 

O’Connor advocated for farmers to be paid more for their product and for 

promoting wool as good for the environment, as synthetic fabrics are 

continuing to dominate the marketplace. He compared the marketing of a 

baby covered in a crude oil derived product (to represent the manufacture and 

use of synthetic material) with the image of a baby cuddling a woolly lamb 

(to describe the impact and merits of wool). This sparked my interest, as I 

saw a need to respond to this perceived lack of understanding of people from 

outside the industry.

Coming from a farming background I understand the value of wool and 

the care taken both with the animals and the land. By highlighting local 

production through place and material, I intend to create a provocation that 

describes the value I have for farming and wool, to share with my audience. 

I intend to return to the origin of the farm and describe aspects of the place 

that I find show the most authenticity - highlighting an aspect of the wool 

industry that is otherwise overlooked, and provoking people to see the value 

of this fibre.

The Wool Innovation day was a part of the W3 Wool Unleashed PGP program through of Ministry for Primary Industries. As ac-
cording to Ministry of Primary Industries (2018), “Wool Unleashed (W3) aims to deliver premiums for New Zealand’s strong wool 
sector. Premiums will  come from applying a customer-led approach to wool production and processing to develop products that 
align with customer preferences”.   

Wool Expo hosted in Wellington by Federated Farmers and Ministry for Primary industries. As reviewed by Hutching, 2018 in 
NZFarmer.

 

Unlike the crossbred wool sector, the New Zealand merino industry has been 

able to market merino wool as a premium product by linking merino wool to 

place. An example of this is New Zealand Merino’s brand partner, Icebreaker- 

who produce outdoor merino clothing. Icebreaker has placed emphasis on the 

traceability and transparency of products right back to the growers and on 

the farm, and animal welfare ethos. They provide people with a connection to, 

and a better understanding of the of their clothing. This elevates Icebreaker 

as a premium brand as they are able to provide a rich story of place to their 

consumers. Craig Adams New Zealand Merino senior procurement manager, 

argues that crossbred wool is already a great product and it is important to 

find ways of showing this to the consumer. Stating that, “they’re [consumers] 

Figure 8.  International Wool and Textile Orginazation. (n.d.). Wool has unique attributes. [Digital diagram]. Retrieved from 
http://www.iwto.org/wool                       

Figure 9.Icebreaker. (2018). [Untitled image of map of growers]. Retrieved from 
https://nz.icebreaker.com/en/our-story/growers.html

Figure 10. Brainstorm map of the initial direction of the project with wool at the centre. 



1514

“Intimate responses to locality within 
the immensities of landscape”.
-(Flint, n.d.).

Figure 11. Sheep tracks on the edge of one of the farms gully areas. Fairfax, 
2017.

Figure 12. Drawing taken from workbook exloring movement of paint, maps, and pattern.



1716

Place in current design practice

Australian textile artist India Flint has locality and sustainability at the core 

of her practice. Flint creates eco-prints using Australian wool, and eucalyptus. 

On her website, Flint states: “[W]hen eucalyptus leaves are gathered and 

used in Australia, they are indeed an ecologically sustainable dye source. 

[H]owever, when imported from another country they are not. - if declaring 

your work as “sustainable” it’s important to use plants available in the 

bio-region of the dye studio” (Flint, n.d.). Flint links these ideas of place, 

sustainability, and material to her design. By doing this her textiles present a 

strong connection to the locality of their production, celebrating sustainable 

and local processes. The way Flint relates natural dye to the true locality of 

place further emphasises the sustainability of this process, in terms of using 

what is in abundance and what is in a close proximity to the practitioner. 

In April 2018 The Manchester School of Art and the Whitworth Museum 

hosted a Textiles and Place conference. The aim of the conference was to 

draw upon and explore the past histories of Manchester itself, as well as relay 

contemporary narratives and associations with textiles linked to place. In the 

conference call for papers they state: “Textile as a socially dynamic, 

communicative and active material offers a rich seam of enquiry into how 

textiles participates and influences how we live. This conference seeks to 

examine how textiles connects with the idea of place in its histories, its 

production, [and] sustainable future ecologies [ . . . ]” (Manchester School of 

Art, 2018). This quote shows that within design, the idea of place is an active 

research area, and that textiles, place, and sustainable futures are inherently 

interconnected. Textiles have potential to act as a catalyst to draw out these 

connections and show the importance of textile as material, place, and 

sustainability within design.

Another open exhibition celebrating the importance of place is the Craft 

Biennale Scotland . The exhibition called for entries of ‘Response to Place’ for 

artwork, “That contributes to individual identity or nationality, and ways 

in which we create and express our ‘place’ in the world” (Craft Biennale 

Literature Review: Place as Metaphor 

The craft biennale Scotland exhibition was scheduled for May- July 2018, and I entered my undergraduate work which was short-
listed- until the exhibition was regrettably cancelled due to lack of funding. This would have been an opportunity to express place 
in a textile form, as well as celebrate the process, and act of crafting the design. 

Scotland, 2017).  As with both conference calls, I intend to contribute to this 

discussion around textiles and place by drawing out the connections within 

my own locality and place of the farm. Through the metaphor of woven 

material, I aim to highlight local production and our connections to place 

through notions of sustainability and slow design.

Considering these current opportunities adds value to the research I have 

undertaken in this project, as the conference calls show that the study of 

place in relation to textiles and sustainability is a topical field of exploration. 

This is important in situating where my work will sit alongside current 

practitioners and researchers. I hope to add another layer to this narrative, 

and in doing so, show deeper connections to the land I am from, 

promoting sustainability. 

Figures 13 & 14. Flint, I. (n.d.). What happens when plants and water are heated in conjunction with cloth. 
[Natural dye coloured wool]. Retrieved from http://www.indiaflint.com/page7.htm

Figure 15. Diagram showing where I will situate my project having narrowed down the scope of the project.

Defining Place

As place has become a key focus for this research project, I will define what 

this means to me as a designer and to current practitioners using place as a 

concept in their design practice. Human Geographer Tim Cresswell describes 

place in the most basic terms: “[Places] are all spaces people are attached to 

in one way or another. This is the most straightforward and common meaning 

of place – a meaningful location” (Cresswell, 2004, p. 7). Cresswell refer-

ences historian John Agnews definition of the meaning of place in three main 

categories; location, local, and sense of place. Location refers to the physical 

location of a place, such as coordinates of a map, whereas local references 

the material setting and social aspects of a place, and the shape of the place 

where people can interact and conduct their lives. The third category, sense of 

place, refers to the subjective and emotional attachment that people have to 

place. This can be in real life or other formats, to evoke a sense of place, and 

the feeling that the user knows what it would be like to be there 
(Cresswell, 2004).

To highlight the sense of place on the farm I have developed woven 

techniques, drawing upon the characteristics that can best act as a metaphor 

for this place. I believe that this is important because building deeper 

connections to the places we inhabit and the land we come from creates a 

sense of understanding around how we can be more sustainable as designers 

and as consumers. 

 



1918

Cresswell continues to discuss that the terms landscape, space and place can 

be intermixed and used in conjunction with each other, or as separate aspects 

of geography. As separate definitions, landscape refers to a location that is 

being viewed from the outside in, where the viewer is not inside or apart of the 

space, but looking at it from afar. Space can be defined as an area or 

location which someone has no connection to; often, spaces can be described 

to become places when they are interacted with by humans - an example 

being how one moves into a new room and would often describe it as a 

new space, until they move in all their personal belongings and it would 

then become their place (Cresswell, 2004). Space also has connotations 

to movement and expanse, which directly relate to the geography and 

topographical layout of the farm. These definitions of place suggest a 

physical location or site, whether that be real, imagined, a space with 

human interaction or connection. This is how the disciplines of geography, 

architecture and planning may define the notion of place; however to 

philosophers, place is a way of being in the world, and relates more to human 

interactions within a place and cultural phenomena rather than a physical 

location (Cresswell, 2004).

Patterns and movement

The dusty gravel road, the tracks and tree lines in the paddocks, and the 

gullies of the farm provide a deep sense of place to me and my family. 

However, an outsider who is perhaps driving past might see something 

different, such as a large expanse of green paddocks, and not much else. 

Pattern, expanse, and movement are key terms that relate to the land and 

what I want to say about this place through textiles. The way the sheep 

are moved from paddock to paddock, creating patterns in the grass as they 

walk, as well as the familiar pattern of how they are moved season after 

season describe the connection to the place, both human and animal. The 

map and geography of the farm create a sense of the familiar for myself, and 

symbolise my mental image of rural Southland. 

Cresswell and Merriman describe how patterns and movements are 

interrelated (2011). An example is the way that rivers cause paths along the 

land, just as the certain contours of the land provide direction to rivers. 

Merriman quotes Halprin’s description of this relationship, which extends 

to manmade aspects of space. Halprin’s description of motorways relates 

to some of the imagery taken from the farm; “freeways in the countryside, 

with their graceful sinuous, curvilinear patterns, are like great free flowing 

paintings in which, through participation, the sensations of motion through 

space are experienced” (as cited in Cresswell & Merriman, 2011, p 109).  

This project is about showing deeper connections to the land that we own and 

work on. My aim is to create a woven metaphor exploring and showing the 

pattern, movement and expanse of the farmland discovered in my 

exploration of the site. This will contribute to the authenticity of using wool 

from New Zealand, celebrate locality and slow textile processes with the 

ultimate goal to contribute to the shift towards sustainability. 

“As is the case of water, a 
living stream of sheep moulds 
and adapts itself to the lie of 
the land.” 
- (Guthrie-Smith, 1953, p. 181). 

Figure 16. Drone footage capturing sheep being moved from one paddock to the next, showing movement and pattern. Fairfax 2017.



2120

Maps and pathways

When I look at a map, I am often drawn to tracing the lines and routes which 

represent the roads and coastlines that I find familiar. Perhaps this shows 

my human interaction with this space, creating a place for me within a map. 

Whereas when other people look at the map, they might not find the same 

path familiar - looking upon the topography as more of an open space.

In her research Land Matters (2011), geographer and artist Liz Wells defines 

the differences between the terms landscape, place, and space in much the 

same way as Cresswell (2004). Landscape is defined as a site that is viewed, 

while the verb landscaping is used to describe human interaction with nature 

in the activities of architecture, gardening and planning. As noted by Wells, 

landscapes involve a spectator outside of that which is viewed (2011). 

Interestingly, she defines space as an area that has not yet been explored, 

such as outer space or a void, and place as a more familiar location, 

suggesting that space becomes a place after human interaction. This 

interaction can come in many forms, one of which is the simple naming of a 

place. “The act of naming is the act of taming [. . .] naming turns space into 

place” (Wells, 2011, p. 3). I found this definition of place interesting, leading 

me back to the idea of mapped places, because map coordinates and place 

names are both ways that space has become place. Wells also says that

 “history turns space into a place” (Wells, 2011, p. 19). My description of 

the place I grew up relates to the period of my own personal history, but a 

broader definition could include the earlier history of the area. 

Maps include notions of pathways, which convey the idea of movement and 

how the space is used. Maps of the countryside give a literal view of expanse, 

uninhabited areas being depicted as flat colour. Sometimes a key to the side 

of the map provides symbols to represent trees, grass, or water. 

Anthropologist Tim Ingold says that maps encode beliefs or propositions 

about the locations of places and objects that are true, or taken to be true, 

where one is positioned in the world (Ingold, 2000). 

He goes on to quote scholar Alfred Gell to define a map as “Any system of 

spatial knowledge and or beliefs which takes the form of non-token-indexical 

statements about the spatial locations of places and objects” (as cited by 

Ingold, 2000, p. 223). This is in contrast to photograph or drawn images which 

show what the land looks like from a certain position. The view can change as 

you move across the space, but the underlying map remains the same. Photo-

graphs of the pathways and patterns made on the land of the farm, the land 

area map, and aerial video footage all capture aspects of movement, pattern 

and expanse, which contribute to the sense of place of the farm.

Figure 17. [Untitled map 303 of Western Southland area]. (n.d.). (no further information available).

Figure 19. Pages taken from a work book showing initial map research and drawings.

Figure 18. Map Figure 18. Map of Jacobs river. (1909). [no further information available].



2322

Identity 

Place fundamentally has a key relationship to identity in current design 

practice. Understanding one’s own identity is inextricably related to one’s 

place, culture, and community. Michael Godkin uses the term “rootedness”, 

to describe the feeling of identity that can be associated to a place. This can 

exist both in terms of one person’s subjective feelings of a place, or that of 

a whole community (as cited in Buttimer & Seamans, 1980). This relates to 

my research of the farm.  My decision to delve into the place of the farm in 

the first instance, was due to my personal identity, or as Godkin describes 

“rootedness” with it as a place. Likewise, Wells states that: “Place plays a key 

role within identity, both actual place and imagined place” (Wells, 2011, p. 54). 

Wells describes that landscapes, weather real or imagined, of where a person 

is from, “feed our sense of belonging to whatever place, region, or nation that 

we view as homeland” (Wells, 2011, p. 54). My sense of the place I am from 

has had a strong link to my identity as a designer as I believe having such a 

relationship to place in my research, brings a deeper level of understanding 

and connection to my work. 

As with my own human interaction and the sense of place with the farm, 

the same is true for the livestock that graze its pastures. The farm is home 

to around 1,500 sheep who have their own system of pathways and ways 

of moving through and across the space. As detailed by Guthrie-Smith in 

his in-depth investigation of Tutira, a historic sheep station in the Hawkes 

Bay, it is the sheep that first survey the land and create tacks and pathways.               

He elaborates: “Viewed from above and afar, a great travelling drove will, on levels, 

break into countless shallow, rapid, irregular channels; it will pour itself in masses 

through choked defiles” (Guthrie-Smith, 1953, p.181). The imagery of these pathways 

is akin to the imagery of the flow of water down the gullies and over the roads.

Guthrie- Smith’s in-depth study eloquently describes the intricacies of the stations 

geography, flora, fauna and histories;  recounting everything from past station owners 

and earthquakes in the area to fishing spots and the eventual straightening of the 

horse and sheep made paths over time. The way the single station is placed under 

the microscope, so to speak, is a relevant case study for the way I too am delving into 

the many layers of the farm. Guthrie-Smiths product of this investigation remains a 

lasting snapshot of place and time, in the form of his book. My research display’s the 

investigation of the farm in Fairfax in another way- it uses weaving as a metaphor to 

produce a pathway woven to imbue the study of the farm with each intertwining of 

warp and weft.

“How do we choose our specific 
material, our means of communication? 
“Accidentally.” Something speaks to us, 
a sound, a touch, hardness or softness, 
it catches us and asks us to be formed”.
- (Albers, 2000, Pg 74).

Figure 20. Guthrie- Smith, H. (1956). Stock route, showing double current. [Ink drawing]. 
In Guthrie- Smith, H. (1953). Tutira: The story of a New Zealand sheep station. London, England: William Blackwood 
& Sons Ltd.

Figure 21. Close up of tapestry weave sample depicting dripping paint.



2524

Metaphor

Anni Albers is one of the most well-known textile artists of the 20th century, 

renowned both for her weaving and her literature on design. Albers describes 

the connection between the weaver and the material, and how even 

subconsciously the material will speak for itself and act as a metaphor for the 

thoughts or feelings that the weaver is trying to get across; “Ideas flow from 

it to us and though we feel to be the creator we are involved in a dialogue with 

our medium. The more subtly we are tuned to our medium, the more inventive 

our actions will become” (Albers, 2000, p.74). 

For me, this is about the thinking through making approach; seeing, feeling, 

and critically analyzing what techniques and processes work well and show 

imagery and the feeling of place, then taking the successful concept forward 

through to design. Albers ends on stating: “What I am trying to get across is 

that material is a means of communication. That listening to it, not dominating 

it makes us truly active, that is: to be active be passive” (Albers, 2000, p.75). 

The final material of the woven pathway acts as a means of communication, 

a manifestation of that which has come before it, to show the aspects of the 

farm that I think are important to its sense of place.

Following on from Albers, artist Shelia Hicks also understood the deep 

relationship to both weaving as a material and as a metaphor. Hicks first 

studied with Albers, and this was where she first saw woven cloth as 

something more than utilitarian and realized that material could function as 

an art form itself. 

In her early work Hicks used a small frame as a loom which she took 

everywhere as she travelled. Describing her work as more site responsive, 

she wove a series of small pieces as a kind of travel diary for the places she 

was seeing, showing the aspects that she found interesting. These pieces, 

although small, show a deep connection to place through her range of colour 

and texture variations (Danto & Simon, 2006). 

The way Hicks was able to describe these new places she was travelling to 

through her material creates an interesting portfolio of work. The aspects 

that she decided to show in her pieces were what were important to her in 

order to create lasting impression of that place. This is much the same as how 

I describe the farm through weaving. Someone else may have a different view 

of what is important to them to show, but as this is through my own study and 

experience of place, in some ways it is very subjective much like the work of 

Shelia Hicks.

Both Albers and Hicks have influenced my notions of material being used as 

a metaphor, and their artwork and weaving itself is referenced particularly in 

my early samples. The way that both artists blur the line between craft and 

art and often use novel ways to weave their pieces, opting for floats of warp 

being left exposed, and different colors of weft being used with aspects of 

tapestry weave, has been taken forward into my work. 

In particular the secondary weft that Albers has added in some of her pieces 

reminds me of a pathway stretching across the weave, a small piece of 

yarn that could be described as wriggling up the cloth. I have sampled this 

technique and re-created small sections of it in my final weave to reference 

these pathways and to add sections of detail and pattern. This can be seen in 

the below image of Intersecting, (Albers, 1962).

Figure 22. Albers, A. (1962). Intersecting [Cotton and rayon, 40 x 
41.9cm]. Retrieved from http://www.albersfoundation.org/art/anni-albers/
weavings/#slide7

Figures 23- 25. Samples where I have attempted to recreate imagery from artist model in my weaving.



26

The way the land has rolling hills and curved valleys creating grooves in 

the earth reminds me of Hicks’ work that has curved sections of tapestry 

weave and a beautiful abstraction of a landscape view within them. I created 

samples using a hand-held comb to beat down sections of warp into curved 

and irregular patterns, often leaving sections of exposed warp as seen in 

Hicks’ work. By not using the beater on the loom I was able to create shapes 

and textures that were outside of the horizontal and vertical warp and weft 

that are made when weaving. Examples of this can be seen in the following 

images of Zapallar, made in Zapallar, Chile, 1957 (Danto & Simon, 2006, p. 

85). As well as Frog Pond, made in Umpawagu, Connecticut, 1989 (Danto & 

Simon, 2006, p. 269).

27

“Sun-soaked clusters of cadmium 
orange and rose cling to the rocky 
coast. Light filters through the 
vertical openings of Twisted stems 
raked by ocean breezes” (as cited in 
Danto & Simon, 2006, p. 84).

“Emerald green seeps into 
saturated blue and covers yellow 
ochre warp. Lily pads float on the 
pond and 
amply shade the aquatic under-
world” (as cited in Danto & Simon, 

Figure 27. Hicks, S. (1957). Zapallar [Wool, 23.5 x 
12cm]. 
In Danto, C., & Simon, J. (2006). Shelia Hicks: 
Weaving as a Metaphor. New York, USA: Yale 
University Press, New Haven and London.

Figure 28. Hicks, S. (1989). Frog Pond [Cotton, 
silk, and wool, 25.5 x 14cm]. 
In Danto, C., & Simon, J. (2006). Shelia Hicks: 
Weaving as a Metaphor. New York, USA: Yale 
University Press, New Haven and London.

Figure 29. Yomut Turkmen all-pile Yolami tent band. (ca.1800). [Wool, 1378 x 36 cm]. 
In Walker, D. (1998). Flowers Underfoot: Indian Carpets of the Mughal Era. London, England: Thames and Hudson Ltd.

Figure 26. Sample where I have attempted to recreate imagery from artist model in my weaving.

The physical act of weaving itself can also be used metaphorically. The warp 

and weft and the weaving of the two together are often used to describe the 

bringing together of two things, or the fabrication of something. As Danto 

& Simon reference, Aristotle uses weaving as a metaphor to describe the 

fabrication of community, and how all of the separate threads of life need to 

be woven together to create a stable society (2006). There is also a certain 

similarity in the way in which the cloth is methodically woven, using the 

hands in a technique that has not changed much in the thousands of years 

since it began. The physical act of weaving can provide a meditative state of 

mind, with the shuttle passing under and over, in repetition with the lifting 

and falling of warp threads. This same repetition can be observed when one 

is working on the land. Farm work is seasonal, with the same tasks being 

repeated at the same time each year in a very hands-on profession. The way 

a farmer knows what is right for their land and animals is a skill acquired 

over years of repetition and learning, and that can be related to the skilled 

hands of an experienced weaver. 

The first vision for my final outcome was to be a woven rug design. The 

idea of this came from the concept that a rug would act as a metaphor for 

place, land, and the earth. Both because rugs can historically be culturally 

significant to the place they are made in terms of material and associated 

skills (MacDonald, 2010), and also because a rug lies on the floor and by 

standing on it, this would give a literal metaphor for the land beneath our 

feet, and place. Using a rug as the base, I wanted to develop a metaphor for 

the pathway imagery that was being reflected in my explorations. 

One historical rug design which has this pathway idea interlaced into a rug is 

the tent band rug. This was used as the flooring for the tents of the nomadic 

people of northern India, where the pathway woven into the rug may have 

been used as a kind of division to what used to be in the tents, perhaps for 

religious reasons (Walker, 1998). The way that this rug has corners and 

bands along the pathways they must have walked in the tent has made 

me consider putting a corner or curve in my woven piece. I thought that 

this could further show that this is referencing a pathway and will also be 

more of a novel form, rather than just a runner of sorts. This was the first 

response to what the final outcome could be, and through the thinking 

through making methodology and critical analysis of my samples, this 

developed into a pathway provocation.



2928

“Hands feel. They probe. They practice. They give 
us, as in good common sense, which otherwise 
seems to be missing lately.”
-(McCullough, 1996, pg 1)

Figures 30- 32. Durability samples when studying rug composition. Showing double cloth variations, twill variations, and the use of thicker yarn.

Figures 33-34. Using the AVL for tapestry weave, showing the way my hands must pass the shuttle back and forth 
under the cloth. Massey University Wellington, 2018.



3130

My hands are my most valuable tool for weaving. The loom assists the warp 

threads to rise and fall, creating a shed of space for me to pass under the 

shuttle and layer threads on the weft. Under and over the woolen threads 

interlace, slowly building, to create a length of woven cloth. Different lift plans 

can be used to create variations on the simple under and over structure, and 

likewise different shuttles of color can be passed hand to hand through the 

warp to interlace more intricate patterns and imagery. 

My hands feel and adjust the tension, they contest the texture of the cloth 

and habitually realign the cross-sticks to ensure the formation of the warp 

through the loom. My hands check and fix broken threads, tying them 

together with equal tension to the rest of the warp. My hands wind cranks, 

they lift weights, they thread each singular warp thread through the eyes 

of the heddles. Weaving for me is an expression of myself both physically 

and mentally. Weaving helps me to understand the concepts behind my 

development, and the process often leads the way in terms of my research. 

I allow and encourage the physical process of this work, alongside my 

drawing, to inform and guide the direction of the project. 

Such an approach allows for a more creative and authentic approach to 

designing (The Design Academy Eindhoven, 2016). The idea of thinking-

through-making is part of the main system of learning at the Design Academy 

Eindhoven, where they have developed a lexicon of ideas and phrases 

mapping design research. As quoted from their website: “But the thinking 

must not be separated from the making, thinking-through-making is how 

we at Design Academy Eindhoven describe the process in which making and 

thinking, the material and the discursive are interrelated and alternate back 

and forth all the time” (Design Academy Eidhoven, 2016). Thinking through 

making design development is led by material interaction with a more open 

mind as to what the final outcome will be. The design development begins 

with mapping, drawing, making samples, and trials, as well as a reflection of 

these, meaning that the critical analysis of the iterations is what informs the 

next samples, and over all the final outcome. “Reflection means establishing 

distance to the design researcher’s activities, examining the decisions which 

have been made, and revisiting the actions taken” (The Design Academy 

Eindhoven, 2016).

This design process relates to my project as weaving is a hands-on and tactile 

technique. Both my previous knowledge stemming from my undergraduate 

degree, as well as knowledge acquired from the trials and samples were 

key in shaping my final outcome and creating a skillful piece. Professor and 

architect Malcom McCullough talks about the importance of the handmade 

in his book Abstracting Craft (1996). In the aptly titled chapter: Hands 
are Underrated, McCullough discusses the importance of hands as a tool 

for designers, when selecting materials, skill, and with the physical act of 

creating both functional, and beautiful pieces. McCullough states, “The 

Methodology: Embodiment of Method 
knowledge is not only physical, but also experiential. The way of hands is 

personal, contextual, indescribable” (McCullough, 1996, p. 1). As my final 

outcome is for exhibition, rather than for the consumer marketplace, it was 

important to be as creative and start as broad as possible when researching the 

farm, and I believe the thinking through making methodology was the best way 

to do this, “Learning through the hands shapes creativity itself” (McCullough, 

1996, p. 1). 

As well as the physicality of weaving, colour was sourced by the labour of 

my hands picking and sorting through vegetation. My hands developed large 

gestural drawings to act as cartoons of my tapestry weave. I applied colour 

with syringes, dipping, pouring and drawing lines and patterns. My body 

established  the confinements by  which I could weave - which, together with 

the restrictions of the farm area,  ultimately acted as a kind of brief to my 

study. The visual material was documented in a series of workbooks and photos 

and the continued development, iteration and reflection of my samples and 

drawings was critical to the thinking through making method and gave direction 

to my aesthetic and conceptual growth. This critical analysis and reflection 

ultimately led me to resolve the final outcome of the pathway. 

The creative process of using making as a form of thinking can be linked to 

craft, and the act of crafting. McCullough defines craft as the name, “given to 

any profession that requires the use of the hands and is limited to a certain 

number of mechanical operations to produce the same piece of work, made 

over and over again” (McCullough, 1996, p. 14).  Another book; 40 under 40: 
Craft Futures, showcases 40 contemporary designers, whose work falls under 

the modern category of craft (Bell, 2012).  

In the chapter on trace and light, Bernard Herman uses the term “residue of 

process”, to describe the way the craftsperson’s process is embodied in the 

finished object itself (as cited in Bell, 2012). He discusses both the process of 

crafting and the importance of this, alongside the outcome itself, describing 

this as a residue of process. “We encounter craft as act and action, the

dynamic process of making things ranging from the moment of design 

through the realization of the physical object” (as cited in Bell, 2012, p. 51). 

Through this research project I intend to display the residue of process that 

is shown through the embodiment of tapestry weaving in order to create 

opportunity for dialogue surrounding the provocations manufacture and the 

processes that have been used. 

One way that the trace of my process is shown is through the width of my 

final piece. Initially the piece was to be a larger rug, as a metaphor of the 

ground and earth of the farm as described earlier. However, my hands must 

be able to pass underneath the warp and pass the shuttle to and from each 

other, in order to create the tapestry weave. In this instance, my hands and 

the limitations of my physical body were what caused me to create a thinner 

runner style piece. This shows residue of the weaving by hand process. I have 

likened the end width to that of a pathway, to act as a metaphor for some 

of the geography and pattern shown on the farm and a metaphor for the 

journey I have followed. As the piece began as a more conventional rug and 

has critiqued into the concept of a pathway, this has added to the shift away 

from the consumer and practical space, towards being an exhibition, with the 

concepts of place, process and metaphor being shown in the form of 

a provocation.



3332

Another limitation and residue of sampling process in terms of the rug 

approach is the weight of the woven cloth as rug designs employ a much 

thicker yarn density in order to create durable furnishings. As this research 

project is more about developing a metaphor and expanding my research 

knowledge of locality and place, it is more important for the final outcome to 

act as a provocation, rather than a commercially viable product at this point. I 

have created samples in thicker density weaving by employing a felt backing 

on the tapestries, using different lifting plans such as twill, using a thicker 

slubbed yarn as the weft, creating a double cloth, and felting the samples. 

However, I felt that as the piece is for an exhibition, it was better to use the 

finer wool to depict imagery then compromise this by using thicker yarn that 

would have been more durable. For my final design I have woven with both 

the finer lamb’s wool and the chunkier slubbed wool as my weft, and used a 

twill variation as this produces a more medium weight cloth and introduces a 

slight zig-zag to the texture reflecting the pathways and lines across the land, 

as a smaller and subtle undertone.

In the chapter object lessons, of 40 under 40 (Bell, 2012), Michael Prokopow 

goes on to discuss that contemporary craft is contrary to the traditional 

approach to craft and is instead presented in novel forms and “surprising 

things” (as cited in Bell, 2012, p. 63). This describes that contemporary craft 

reaches different outcomes from that of the traditional, and justifies the way 

that my outcome could perhaps be described as a little more unconventional. 

One practitioner who presents their designs in novel and oftentimes surprising 

forms is Dutch designer, Hella Jongerius. 

Jongerius’ research on colour and textiles explores the idea that process 

and imperfection are important to her method of designing, often times 

leaving open ended stated on her website Jongeriuslab: “The unfinished, 

the provisional, the possible – they hide in the attention for imperfections, 

traces of the creation process, and the revealed potential of materials and 

techniques” (n.d.).  Jongerius is able to convey the value of the process, and 

material through her work. This is important in the shift towards sustainability 

and consumer responsibility, as often consumers are unaware where or 

how their textile products such as clothing are made. Through this research 

project, I intend to introduce the idea of the unfinished and to invite the 

audience to connect with this process. The pathway metaphor of my final 

outcome describes the journey of my research project and invites the viewer 

to reflect and discuss slow textile processes and the sustainability of locality 

and wool. The open-ended nature of my final outcome, being a pathway, 

expresses the possibilities of what path it could lead to next, in the same way 

as Jongerius’ designs.  

Process

Figure 35. Natural dyed yarn ready to be woven.

Figures 36- 37. Photos of my studio workspace. Massey University Wellington, 2018.



3534

Movement

I began by the gathering of visual data from the farm such as photos, 

drawings and site research from the local Museum and surrounding areas. 

What I was most drawn to was the pathways, both the geological - of the 

gullies, hills and streams - and also the manmade bike tracks, roads, fence 

lines, the paths the livestock create when walking over the land and our own 

footprints. The paths created patterns, which showed movement across the 

expansive land. This imagery was furthered when I came across some old 

maps of the area, passed down from the previous owners of the farm, and 

also through drone video taken of the site. 

I furthered my map imagery by looking at more old maps online  as well 

as current maps. I began to trace out the lines and to extract patterns and 

textures from these maps. The pathways are what really appealed to me, 

and what I felt connected with the idea of place and sense of place, as I was 

able to trace these pathways with a sense of meaning, whereas most people 

would look at a map of the area with the opinion that it is a wide space. They 

described Wells “naming is taming” concept (Wells, 2011), by giving names 

and coordinates to the land.

The farm also has a unique geology under the surface, as researched by NZ 

Petroleum. In 1963 a seismic reflection survey was collected from Fairfax, 

recorded on an irregular grid of local roads (Cahill, 1995).  It is interesting 

that the map of this grid seems to indicate right up the road which lies 

between the farm as being a survey site. This produced findings of up to 2800 

meters of tertiary sediment beneath the surface, as well as oil (Cahill, 1995).  

This reflects the intuitive response I had to drawing with liquid paint and dye, 

as there is liquid under the surface as well. 

Movement was explored further by following the flow of the gully up and 

back down the farm with an aerial drone. The ability to capture this expanse, 

from a birds-eye view created a new perception of the land. The drone was 

able to capture the movement of the sheep going through to a new paddock 

and the moving image adds a level of depth rather than just looking at photos 

which capture a moment in time. 

Figure 40. Cahill, J. P. (1995). Outcrop geology, seismic coverage, and petroleum exploration 
wells in the Winton Basin [Computer drawn diagram] .
In Cahill, J. P. (1995). Evolution of the Winton Basin, Southland, New Zealand. New Zealand 
Journal of Geology and Geophysics, 38(2), 245-258
Overlaid with 
Google Map Data. (2018). Map of Western Southland area. [Map of Western Southland New 
Zealand]. Retrieved from https://www.google.com/maps/@-46.2488986,167.721426,10.34z

Figure 38 - 39. Imagery from drone of the farm printed and painted over to show movement of water accross 
the space.



3736

Liquid/ Flow

The original colour palette was taken from the liquid palette in Textile View 
Magazine (2017). This colour palette was chosen due to its resonance to 

the liquid, flowing, pathway imagery I was developing from my study of the 

farm. Also because the colours within the palette, such as the browns, golds, 

greens, and purple reflected some of the colours that I was able to obtain 

from natural dye using plants from the farm. 

Through trailing a range of different media and mark making methods, I 

started dipping paper into ink, dye and watery paint, this created a sense of 

the space, as the colour soaked into the pages and found its own way into 

the paper. I liked the way that this reflected the lands hills and valleys, and 

the places where water would naturally settle. This led me to play with lines 

of the coastline closest to the farm, and pathways of the maps in different 

ways. Reflection of the drawings and samples I developed led me to analyse 

and critique what methods were working best, and then further explore these 

through different iterations. I began to use masking fluid and apply colour 

using watery paint in syringes, to create drips down the page, reflecting the 

movement of the pathways and roads on the maps. The ability to control 

this technique from the masking fluid was in response to the way in which 

the farm controls to some degree the nature of the farm with the fences 

sectioning the hills and gullies.  

Figure 41 & 42. Textile View Magazine. (2017). Liquid color palette. 
In Shah, D. (2017, Autumn). Liquid colour palette. Textile View, Insight(119), 110-111.

Figures 43- 46. Drawings exploring movement pattern and expanse with imagery from maps and drone footage of the farm. 

Figure 43. Exploration of the liquid/ flow concept with watery paint.



3938

Natural dye

Hella Jongerius describes how we rarely appreciate how rich and complex 

colours can be, describing the current narrow view of colour as names and 

numbers on a colour chart of standardised pigment (Jongeriuslab, n.d.). My 

process shows the authentic colours of the farm through natural dye, as well 

as the labour involved with this technique. In her thesis Colours of The High 
Country, Kristy Jonstone describes the idea of a visual “terroir” to describe 

the natural dye colours obtained from place. As terroir is a term used in the 

wine industry to describe to how the location and climate of where the grapes 

are grown affects the taste of the wine (2012), Jonstone similarly describes 

natural dye outcomes to be embedded with the sense of place unique to 

their origins and she suggests that “distinct colours can be obtained from an 

individual place” (Jonstone, 2012, p. 26). By using natural dye from plants 

found on farm, this reveals colour specific to the location and climate of the 

Fairfax. The natural dye recipes and methods were based on my knowledge 

gained in my undergraduate degree of study, as well as a handbook Natural 
Dye by Dominique Cardon (2007).

Deep walnut brown, bright yellow from Queen Anne’s lace, and lavender 

purple were a few of the hues I was able to obtain. However, I decided to 

simplify my dying and focus on two main plants, mint and blackberry because 

they both grow in abundance on the farm and produce strong colour. Mint fills 

the valley by the duck pond, often towering to waist height, with large green 

leaves that are fragrant and produce a deep yellow colour dye on wool. When 

ferrous is added to the dyebath to change the pH, the dye is green. Blackberry 

thorns are essentially a weed to the farm but grow on the roadside. The 

prickly and sharp brambles attach themselves to small bushes, and trees, 

making then difficult to irradiate. The berries themselves produce a lavender 

to purple colour, and when the leaves are used as well this can muddy the 

colour to more of a mauve purple. Interestingly, when both dyes are used 

on the yarn in weaker concentrations a grey colour is produced. I have used 

a 10% to weight of wool, alum solution as a mordant, as to better ensure a 

colour fast dye (Cardon, 2007). This has developed a range of colours that 

have allowed me to better express the imagery of the farm. It is worth 

considering the fact that both mint and blackberry are not native to New 

Zealand. This means that at some point in the history and engagement with 

the land, the plants must have been introduced to Fairfax. 

Perhaps as they are both consumable they were planted in the family garden, 

or perhaps the seeds came from birds that had been eating berries in the 

surrounding area. Either way, there is a certain curiosity to where these 

plants came from and this shows another layer of history of the farm. It was 

important to have the colour reflect the farm in this authentic way in order 

to add to the metaphor of the place being shown in the final weave. However, 

as I do not live in Southland, I was able to develop a colour palette based on 

the dye made of site, I then swapped local for local, to use plants from my 

current surroundings of Wellington to finish off the dying of the yarn. I think 

that the concept of the dye being taken from abundant plants of place is still 

strong, even though I had to supplement this. This shows the challenges of 

using what is available in order to dye large quantities of yarn and celebrates 

the variations in colour and the true locality of this project. 

Figures 47 - 49. Mint and blackberry used to dye yarn. Figures 50- 52. Natural dye process. Alum being weighed for mordant and dye in dyepots. Figure 53. Collecting mint from beside the pond. Fairfax, 2017.



4140

Materiality

Tapestry weave is where each row of weft combines several colours to slowly 

build an image within the cloth, rather than inputting a pattern into a lifting 

plan which creates all over repeat. Tapestry artist Jane Kidd whose work was 

on display at the textile Museum of Canada in June, has her method described 

on their website as: “Interlacing threads by hand, without the assistance of 

mechanization, is time-consuming and ponderous, yet the directness and the 

freedom afforded by working this way allow Kidd to imbue the woven imagery 

with her energy and vitality” (Textile Museum of Canada, 2018).  

Tapestry weave has been used to create defined and exact images of 

my drawings and paintings that explore movement and drips of colour. 

Alternating colours have been used to create the blended sections where the 

two colours merge together. Each line of the weave has been carefully traced 

using several shuttles of colour, to define the curves and original qualities of 

the painted image. The way the woollen weave looks as if the paint has been 

splashed across it, creates an interesting juxtaposition to the way the woollen 

cloth would react if dye was in fact applied this way, as it would simply soak 

and blur into the wool and not create these defined lines. 

Figures 54- 59. Natural dye process photos.

Figure 60. Weaving on the AVL Loom. Massey University Wellington, 2018.



42 43

I then created a large cartoon of sorts, which is the size of how wide I was 

able to weave the tapestry and after drawing and exploring different layout 

and composition methods, I decided to use small sections of tapestry and 

detail within large pieces of flat colour. This is because when you look at the 

land and at maps, often the detail is only in smaller parts of the overall view. 

The place is made up of more space and expanse, which is shown by the 

large sections of flat colour with smaller sections of the intricate detail of the 

tapestry and embroidery.

The weaving is 100% New Zealand sheep’s wool, and therefore links 

physically to the sheep farm through the material used. I have woven 

samples of wool from the farm but for the scope of this project I decided that 

using already washed, carded and spun wool that was readily available and 

could be dyed, was more important than using wool from the farm as this 

would take time to process and spin. The final pathway composition is 100% 

corridale lambswool from New Zealand. 

Figures 61- 63. Samples of tapestry weave.

Figure 64. Sample using wool from the farm.

Figure 65. Threading up the AVL Loom. Massey University Wellington, 2017.



4544

Findings
Locality and Sustainability

Locality and place, slow design and sustainable textile processes are 

inherently linked together. In an exploratory study by the Craft Council UK, 

into how notions of place and local are impacting and being expressed in the 

contemporary craft sector, Dr. Julie Brown describes slow design textile 

processes as a response to globalized aesthetics and mass production 

(Brown, 2014). Brown continues to describe that some makers are striving 

towards raising environmental and sustainable awareness with their products, 

by emphasizing local trading and suppliers in their work (Brown, 2014).   

Textile view magazine (2017) introduced previously as the initial source for 

the colour palate, provides a look on contemporary craft in relation to the idea 

of slow design. In their number 119 Insight issue, they describe the personal 

need to have a connection to the materials designers use and to the land they 

come from “[. . .] it is place that informs the work, allowing a slow and quiet 

focus on purpose, materials and process” (Textile view magazine, 

2017, p. 111).

As Textile View Magazine is a current trend forecasting resource, it is worth 

noting that these themes of sustainable design and slow textiles are influencing 

the current market. This feeds back into the original aim of this research project, 

to add value to the current crossbred wool industry, as it shows that notions 

of sustainable textiles that respond to place, locality and process, are relevant 

fields of study “We note a response to consumer shifts, away from excess 

towards more responsible shopping, by the creation of products with more 

meaning, valuing the handmade, the original and those things with emotion 

stitched into them”(Textile view, 2017, p. 111). Although my outcome is not for 

the consumer market itself, the final woven pathway could act as a one-off 

exhibition experience that adds to the locality and authenticity consumers are 

looking for. It has the potential to add value to other goods created, as an in-

depth investigation into place. 

One artist who values sustainable design is weaver Ismini Samanidou. Her 

woven pieces marry together craft and digital design, and often reference place, 

stories and surface with sustainable methodologies. Samanidou considers weave 

to continue to currently be one of the most sustainable textile processes, she 

suggests that this is in terms of weavings low wastage of materials, and the 

ability for her designs to connect with people on deeper levels, “Sustainability is 

an important aspect of my practice in termsof creating woven work which will 

be valued, preserved and passed on to future generations” (Quinn, 2013, p. 

143). Saminadous weaving being passed down, and valued by more than one 

generation relates to the emotional durability of her products. This has been 

researched by Jonothan Chapman, who explains the idea of emotionally 

durable design. Chapman contends that products are more readily discarded 

when the owner has no connection to the objects they own. He explains that 

by creating more emotional and experiential relationship between users 

and their objects, this can disrupt the need and dependency of consumption. 

(Chapman, 2005).

Figure 66. Ntural dyed hanks of yarn in my workspace. Massey University Wellington, 2017.



4746

“Products that are 
biodegradable are part of 
a natural cycle. They come 
from nature and go back to 
nature, enriching the soil and 
nourishing new life” 
- (IWTO, 2018)

Figure 68. Still shot taken from the drone imagery of the farm, Fairfax, 2018.Figure 67. Photo of the farm, Fairfax, 



4948

 “ ‘Slow Design’ is a unique and vital form 
of creative activism that is delivering new 
values for design and contributing to the 
shift toward sustainability”. 
- (Strauss & Fuad-Luke, 2009).

Figure 69. New Zealand Merino. (2018). Wool: the natural cycle. [Digital diagram]. Retrieved 
from https://twitter.com/NZMerinoCo/status/1014410984872554502

Returning to place 

The international Wool Textile Association, or IWTO, states: “Natural fibres – 

such as wool – are biodegradable. They do not accumulate in the environment 

but breakdown naturally to harmless compounds” (IWTO, n.d.). As my final 

piece is made out of 100% New Zealand wool, and dyed with vegetation from 

the farm, at the end of the pieces lifecycle the final pathway could return to 

the farm itself. The soil would act to break down its substrates and allow the 

nutrients to be released back into the earth. This would provide nutrients for 

the grass to grow, which would feed the sheep who grow the wool. Because 

this research project is about place, I think it is important to consider the end 

of the life cycle, and what it will mean for the earth after its use. 

This relates to McDonough & Braungart’s approach to sustainable designing 

that they have termed, cradle to cradle (2002). They describe cradle to 

cradle as a manifest of developing both a different philosophy, and a different 

practice of manufacture that better serves the environment than the current 

models used in industry (2002). Cradle to cradle seeks to critique current 

design, as well as the methods of sustainability such as reuse and recycling, 

and to instead take nature itself as a model in order to create designs that 

close the loop of what would otherwise eventually even after reuse and 

recycling, be waste. The idea is that textiles are designed around a biological 

cycle that avoids synthetic fibres and certain processing methods that include 

chemicals to ensure that they are able to be safely composted at the end 

of their life, providing nourishment to the environment when the textile is 

discarded (McDonough & Braungart, 2002). I think that this cradle to cradle 

approach is important to my project, as I am designing with the idea of our 

connection with the land, therefore I should consider the connection that my 

outcome will have with the land when it ends its use. 



5150

Slow Design

“Slow Research Lab reaches toward this vision by offering an alternative 

ground for creative practitioners to stand on and ease into. A protected space 

to open and deepen, extend and enfold, break and unlearn, reformulate 

and re-root, imagine and evolve. A space of trust and understanding, where 

pluralism can thrive. A space of poetry and of risk, where unexpected forms 

and practices emerge. A space of knowing and not-knowing, where new 

pathways unfold” (Slow Research Lab, n.d).

With the shifting focus of this project, locality and slow design have become 

embedded within the process and outcome of my research. The in-depth 

study of a single place has highlighted the locality of the area, using such a 

small section of this earth as a case study has had its challenges, but has 

provided an account of the locality of the farm. Carolyn Strauss and Alistair 

Fuad-Luke from slowLab, discuss six main principles to what is considered 

slow design. Materiality, the phenomena of locality, reflective consumption, 

connections to community, place-based values and being an agent for change 

in behavior and systems are all key points in slow design. The overarching 

theme and goal of slow design is to be a provocation both for designers and 

individuals to evaluate and reflect on their design methods, ideas, and objects 

and the quality of these (Strauss & Fuad-Luke, 2009).

This is the essence of what I want my project to demonstrate and provide 

a talking point for. Perhaps designers will see the beauty with imperfection 

produced by the local natural dyes and will consider using natural dyes in 

their own applications. Perhaps the use of wool of New Zealand and the 

study of a sheep farm will create discussion about the sustainability of 

wool and how this can be used in place of synthetic materials. Perhaps the 

level of detail that has been developed when exploring place will encourage 

other designers to think more fully about where they source their material 

from, and develop connections between place, and user to increase the 

emotional durability of their design. Or perhaps the juxtaposition of the 

forms of movement on the expansive land; in stark contrast to the minute 

bodily movement of myself weaving on the loom, will spark discussion and 

a re-thinking of how mass-produced goods are so far from having human 

connection and inspire practitioners to reconsider processes in 

their production. 

Speculative design

A/B

A      B

Problem solving    Problem Finding

Provides answers   Asks questions

Narratives of production   Narratives of consumption

Applications     Implications

Innovation    Provocation

Makes us buy    Makes us think

Ergonomics    Rhetoric

Process     Authorship

(Dunne & Raby, 2013, p vii). 

The A/B of Speculative Design is proposed by Anthony Dunne and Fiona 

Raby to represent the differences between the way practicing designers 

view design, and how they believe speculative design differs from this. 

The above are some key words taken from their original list printed as 

the opening to their book Speculative Everything: Design, Fiction, and 
Social dreaming. (Dunne & Raby, 2013). They state that when people 

consider design, the first thought that comes to mind is problem solving. 

The issue with this model is that when it comes to larger and more 

complex problems, designs inherent optimism can try to offer solutions 

with products and systems, when in reality this is not always right. In 

response to this, speculative design seeks to create spaces for discussion 

and debate, propose and invent alternate ways of being, to inspire and 

encourage thought, and the imagination to flow freely (Dunne & Raby, 

2013). Speculative design still focuses on the act of crafting, not only with 

things, but also ideas. 

Dunne and Raby speak of the need for more pluralism in design with 

both styles, as well as ideology and values being important. The term 

speculative design can be interlinked with critical design both, “question 

and offer ‘what if’ scenarios, the form of design is about offering 

alternatives that highlight the weaknesses within existing normality” 

(Dunne & Raby, 2013, p. 35).

Figure 71. Diagram showing the six slow design principles and how they relate to my project.



5352

I place this research at the end of my exegesis, as my process has been true 

to the methodology of thinking through making, in which the material making 

had lead me to change my outcome to an exhibition piece provocation rather 

than a product. My final piece, as well as the process it has taken to get there, 

has transcended into a reflection of critical or speculative design.

Dunne and Raby describe critical design as starting with identifying the 

shortcomings and in essence the problem that you want to design toward and 

what the better version could be. Critical design applies this to larger complex 

issues. The process of how to design for these bigger issues, is by thinking 

through design, rather than through words, the critical thought is translated 

materially- using this design to engage people into discussion.

After my research project developed into more of a piece for exhibition rather 

than a product, my work focus shifted from innovation to provocation. The 

process and final woven pathway outcome sit within speculative design, as 

the intention is to highlight aspects of place and process, designing a space 

for discussion and imagination.

Figure 72. Diagram showing the flow of direction my research project has taken.



5554

Final Design: Manifest 
The following are photos of my final woven pathway. Made with 100% New Zealand wool, 

naturally dyed with mint and blackberry sourced from Fairfax, New Zealand. 

Woven with a twill repeat pattern, with sections of tapestry and embroidery. 288 x 59 cm.



5756

Tracing the path of this exegesis back to where it started leads me to 

further highlight my desire to add integrity to the New Zealand crossbred 

wool industry and emphasise the authenticity and sustainability of using 

wool. Hearing the need for consumers to know where wool comes from and 

listen to the story further back to the farm gate was how I began. The way 

I decided to respond to this was through using weaving as a metaphor and 

place as a way to tell narrative about one of the locations where crossbred 

wool is grown. Instead of simply articulating the values of wool to my 

audience, I wanted to take this research a step back, uncovering layers of the 

farm, following the wool and place of the family farm as it guided me through 

this project.

The thinking through making methodology has been vital to this approach; 

and I believe that I have remained authentic to this method of working. This 

is evident in my shifting outcome from a rug to a speculative design pathway. 

By working with this method, I was able to be informed by my successful 

drawings and woven samples, which led me to uncover some unexpected 

and beautiful layers of the farm such as the key imagery of showing the 

movement, pattern and expanse that is shown on this land. This methodology 

enabled the focus to be on connecting with the land, and capturing and 

communicating that connection as opposed to pursuing a 

commercial product. 

Conclusion
Place was shown through the final woven pathway through the colour, and 

through the imagery I have woven. Movements and patterns were recreated 

with the small sections of detail set against the larger expanses of flat colour. 

Patterns were imbued in the form of tapestry weave that depicted liquid 

paint moving across the cloth, as well as the patterns my body made while 

weaving, passing the numerous shuttles of colour back and forth, under and 

over. The confines of how wide my body was able to weave as well as the 

confines of using the farm as a fenced off area of land acted as a kind of brief 

for this projects scope and in turn played roles in defining the dimensions, 

colours and imagery of my final pathway, which is a manifestation of all of 

these criteria. 

Seeing a visual representation of what my body was able to weave using the 

technology of the AVL loom was a potent juxtaposition when viewed next 

to the drone footage of the expanse of the land. We are so used to mass 

production, and machines that have the ability to weave our cloth for us in 

large quantities and scales, that this was a poignant way to show the physical 

limitations of my body using this particular technique and loom and therefore 

retain the connection between myself and the textile. This embodiment of the 

method really captured the concepts of slow design and locality.

I think that overall my final woven pathway is a strong example of slow 

design; however, my initial goal to highlight local production and the wool 

industry perhaps could have been strengthened by researching more into 

the history of wool production and the current status of crossbred wool in 

Southland, New Zealand. One of the confines of designing with slow design 

processes in mind such as natural dye and tapestry weave is that they are 

very time consuming, and in the time constraints of my project I was unable 

to peruse both avenues in depth.

As with all journeys taken, there were choices as to which path to follow and 

in order to keep the scope of this project manageable I had to forego some 

routes I would otherwise have liked to explore; such as using and preparing 

wool from the farm for weave. This leaves space for further developments 

and the future trajectory of this study. I believe that this research project has 

the potential to lead to many different areas, such as aspects being woven 

into a more commercial product such as a rug, or this in-depth investigation 

being taken to different localities and providing one off pieces to represent the 

sense of place for different areas. 

Guthrie-Smith concludes his study of the Tutira sheep station by stating: 

“If every chapter has been read, unflinchingly, they can rest assured that in 

examination, as it were under the microscope, of one sheep station, hey have 

discovered what is to be found in all. [. . .] [The Author] cannot too strongly 

emphasize the fact that there is nothing exceptional in the little bit of land 

about which he ha[s] written”. (Guthrie-Smith, 1953, p.421). The same can 

be said for the 200 acre property in western Southland that I too have put 

under the microscope. Within the confines of the barrier fences separating one 

section of farmland to its neighbour, the differences would be minute. But by 

delving into this single place, and uncovering different layers and following the 

pathways where they led, I have been able to create a final woven pathway to 

describe the sense of place that this particular land has. 



5958

York, USA: Yale University Press, New Haven and London.

Figure 29. Yomut Turkmen all-pile Yolami tent band. (ca.1800). [Wool, 1378 

x 36 cm]. 

In Walker, D. (1998). Flowers Underfoot: Indian Carpets of the Mughal Era. 

London, England: Thames and Hudson Ltd.

Figure 40. Cahill, J. P. (1995). Outcrop geology, seismic coverage, and petro-
leum exploration wells in the Winton Basin [Computer drawn diagram] .

In Cahill, J. P. (1995). Evolution of the Winton Basin, Southland, New Zea-

land. New Zealand Journal of Geology and Geophysics, 38(2), 245-258

Overlaid with 

Google Map Data. (2018). Map of Western Southland area. [Map of Western 

Southland New Zealand]. Retrieved from https://www.google.com/maps/@-

46.2488986,167.721426,10.34z

Figure 41 & 42. Textile View. (2017). Liquid color palette. 

In Shah, D. (2017, Autumn). Liquid colour palette. Textile View, Insight(119), 

110-111.

Figure 69. New Zealand Merino. (2018). Wool: the natural cycle. [Digi-

tal diagram]. Retrieved from https://twitter.com/NZMerinoCo/sta-

tus/1014410984872554502

Illustration List
All images are the work of Penny 
Ronald unless otherwise specified.

Figure 5. Google Map Data. (2018). Map of Southland area. [Satelite map of 

Western Southland New Zealand]. Retrieved from https://www.google.com/

maps/@-46.2133723,168.0144662,10738m/data=!3m1!1e3

Figure 6. Google Map Data. (2018). Map of New Zealand marking location of 
Fairfax. [Map of Western Southland New Zealand]. Retrieved from https://

www.google.com/maps/place/Fairfax+9683/@-46.2092932,167.972678,13z/

data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0xa9d2fe123d837067:0x500ef8684797a30!8m2!

3d-46.2159083!4d168.0113652

Figure 8. International Wool and Textile Orginazation. (n.d.). Wool has unique 
attributes. [Digital diagram]. Retrieved from http://www.iwto.org/wool

Figure 9. Icebreaker. (2018). [Untitled image of map of growers]. Retrieved 

from https://nz.icebreaker.com/en/our-story/growers.html

Figure 13 & 14. Flint, I. (n.d.). What happens when plants and water are 

heated in conjunction with cloth. [Natural dye coloured wool]. Retrieved from 

http://www.indiaflint.com/page7.htm

Figure 17. [Untitled map 303 of Western Southland area]. (n.d.). (no further 

information available).

Figure 18. Map of Jacobs river. (1909). [no further information available].

Figure 20. Guthrie- Smith, H. (1956). Stock route, showing double current. 
[Ink drawing]. 

In Guthrie- Smith, H. (1953). Tutira: The story of a New Zealand sheep station. 
London, England: William Blackwood & Sons Ltd.

Figure 22. Albers, A. (1962). Intersecting [Cotton and rayon, 40 x 

41.9cm]. Retrieved from http://www.albersfoundation.org/art/anni-albers/

weavings/#slide7

Figure 27. Hicks, S. (1957). Zapallar [Wool, 23.5 x 12cm]. 

In Danto, C., & Simon, J. (2006). Shelia Hicks: Weaving as a Metaphor. New 

York, USA: Yale University Press, New Haven and London.

Figure 28. Hicks, S. (1989). Frog Pond [Cotton, silk, and wool, 25.5 x 14cm]. 

In Danto, C., & Simon, J. (2006). Shelia Hicks: Weaving as a Metaphor. New 



6160

Ingold, T. (2000). The perception of the Environment: Essays on livelihood, 
dwelling and skill. London, England: Routledge.

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Hutching, G. (2018, February 23). Farmers make a point with wool gifts for 

Prime Minister’s baby. NZ Farmer. Retrieved from https://www.stuff.co.nz/

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prime-ministers-baby

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McCullough, M. (1996). Abstracting Craft: the practiced digital hand. Mas-

sachusetts, USA: The MIT Press.

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programmes/primary-growth-partnership/primary-growth-partnership-

programmes/w3-wool-unleashed/

Pickett, B. (2018, February 2). Wool industry needs to shift away from 

commodity market. NZ Farmer. Retrieved from https://www.stuff.co.nz/

business/farming/101112069/wool-industry-needs-to-shift-away-from-

commodity-market

Quinn, B. (2013). Textile visionaries: innovation and sustainability in textile 
design. London, England: Laurence King Publishing. 

Shah, D. (2017, Autumn). Kinship womenswear inspiration. Textile View, 

Insight(119), 126- 127.

Shah, D. (2017, Autumn). Liquid colour palette. Textile View, Insight(119), 

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