"The Fruit of Our Labour": The Story

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.

Genesis 1:31

Since my visit in 2022, I've been charmed by the landscape, folklore, and history of the Isle of Man. I was here only for a week, but in that week I saw seals sunbathing, sheep roaming green hills, seabirds nesting in rugged crags, ruins of medieval castles, wallabies resting in warm swamps, and colourful cottages lining sandy beaches. There were weekend markets and stands along the road selling honey and eggs using honesty boxes. There was a fairy bridge and a glen full of fairy lights and fairy doors, and there was wild-growing rosemary and frogs gazing at the sea.

I learned about Manannan and Manannan's Cloak, and I felt like I had entered into an enchanted little corner of the world where I was safe and protected.

After my visit I went to Hay-on-Wye for a week, then back to Oslo where I had been living and studying for the past year. While in Oslo I had spent the majority of my time inside, reading, drawing, and writing, but after that week on the Isle of Man I began going for walks. I discovered a park with a river and a lake just up the hill from my flat, and a spruce wood closer still. When my exams finished, I packed my life up and moved to the island.

The rose-tinted glasses with which I originally saw the island have since somewhat cleared, but on my way to work I still look out across Douglas Bay and see the beauty of the waves, the clouds, and the cascading beams of sunlight, and when I take the bus to Ramsey or Port Erin I still admire the rolling hills, glens, and crags.

When I learned that the theme for Hodgson Loom Gallery's open exhibition this year was "fruit", I knew I wanted to create something for it.

Coincidentally, I'd spent the last few months practising skills related to embroidery and sewing (with the eventual goal being to make my own wedding dress, though that's a different story). In January I'd discovered the absolute delight that is felt animals; little toys and figures made from felt and yarn. I'd made a Loaghtan sheep this way, and so an image began to form in my mind: a shepherd, a sheep, and an apple tree, all set against a Manx backdrop.

Rough sketch of Snaefell (furthest peak) as seen from Ramsey.

Initially I planned to make little shelves to display the sheep and shepherd on, with the apple tree connecting them — until I recalled the existence of dust. In the North of Norway, where I grew up, dust is a foreign concept. Sure, there might be some dust bunnies hiding under the bed, but items on exposed top shelves take a long time to acquire that fine dulling layer that I've come to expect every time I look at our LEGO displays here on the island.

The elements I'd planned to incorporate into the piece would be difficult to clean, so I decided to make a display case for it. The case couldn't be too big, nor too heavy, so rather than wood and glass I went for cardboard and plexiglass. In addition to making it easier to transport, this also meant that I could easily cut everything to size in our living room.

I sculpted bark onto parts of the case, then layered bamboo and coffee stirrers onto the rest, and painted inserts for the background and base.

A lot of trial and error went into this; I sculpted the bark first, then realised I should probably have waited until I'd done the bamboo and coffee stirrers. I had to use wood filler in several places, and ended up painting everything to bring it all together.

The stem and branches of the apple tree were made by twisting copper wire. I positioned this within the approximate centre of the case, and finally I could move on to the parts that truly excited me: the sheep and the shepherd.

While building the case, I had been playing with various ideas regarding the shepherd. Last autumn one of my friends offered me apples from her parents' farm, and so I thought the shepherd ought to be picking apples from the tree. Then I thought he should be giving the apples to someone — perhaps his wife, who was holding a woven basket — or perhaps she had come out with an apple pie to remind him of lunch?

I made a few sketches, and while I had a clear image of the shepherd, his wife was far more diffuse. I therefore began with the shepherd, making a stylised little frog like the ones I'd seen gazing at the sea when I initially visited the island in 2022. I had some scraps of thinned denim at home, rescued from a favourite pair of trousers, and sewed them into tiny overalls with a functioning chest pocket. Since the sheep was supposed to be a Loaghtan sheep, I bought some Loaghtan yarn and, using 2mm needles, knitted him a little turtleneck.

I then turned to his wife. Using a lighter shade of green, I sewed her body. I wanted her to wear a little white summer dress, so I bought half a meter of lace and made it into a skirt and a bodice, only to realise that she looked terribly out of place next to the shepherd. Her dress was too white, and there were too few elements to her design.

About a year ago, my fiancé and I planned to eat more beetroot. Neither of us is particularly fond of it, but it's supposed to be good for you and we figured we'd try. Looking at the little frog's dress, I recalled this beetroot experiment, and that beetroot juice is supposed to be good for dying fabrics. I found the jar in the back of the fridge, as unopened as you might expect, and poured the juice into a separate container. I then dunked the dress in the juice and hung it to dry.

While the dress dried, I looked at the frog wife again. I should knit her something, I thought, and decided that "something" meant a little lace shawl. I had never knitted lace shawls before, but pulled out my Loaghtan yarn and 2mm needles, looked up a tutorial, and got started. A couple of hours and three tries later, I finally had a respectable-looking item to wrap about her shoulders.

With the now-pink dress and shawl, she was finally beginning to look more complete. I then thought a straw hat might look good on her, but once I'd made the hat I found that it sat too close to the shawl. I gave it to the shepherd instead, and didn't he look handsome in it?

I adjusted them both within the case and sent a photo to my mum, a Czech photographer who's doing her own exhibitions and talks in and around Prague, primarily related to her life in the North of Norway. She was delighted by the frogs. "For a moment I thought she was reading!" she said about the frog wife, and I saw what she meant.

Pulling out my book binding skills, I quickly made a little book (dying the cover in beetroot, of course), and finally the shepherd's wife was complete.

I finished the Loaghtan sheep (the base was made back in January, when I first began experimenting with felt animals), then cut out leaves using green and gold card, as well as pages from a second-hand book I'd used for crafts before. I painted beads to look like apples, and, after a month of planning, crafting, and changing plans, my piece was more or less complete.

As I still had a few days left, I decided to add some red clovers (beetroot-dyed book pages) and clover leaves to conceal the trimmed edges of the tree's roots. I've always enjoyed detail-filled art such as the illustrations of colour pencil artist Marie Brožová, where there no matter how long you look, there is always something new to discover. It imbues art with life. To fill my own piece with a few more details that could catch the eye, I therefore painted a couple of ladybugs and some bumblebees and added them — some on the clover leaves, some around the apples, and even one on the shepherd's hat!

My fiancé and I delivered the piece to the Hodgson Loom Gallery on Saturday 7th March, where it will be displayed from 21st March alongside other pieces from local artists.

"The Fruit of Our Labour" is available for sale at £750, which is 50% of the original price plus gallery commission. To purchase the piece, please contact the Hodgson Loom Gallery at julia@laxeywoollenmills.com or phone 01624 861395.

For similar commissions, email hjulstadmedia@gmail.com.