Much came out of Silent Cacophony, one of the more unexpected triumphs was the way Dawn Cole’s ‘Silence of Knitting’ spun into its own micro series of interventions that would normally be standalone events. The ‘Silence of Knitting’ then also mutated and one of the highlights of the whole process appeared yesterday in the form of this brilliant film by Sharon Hall Shipp and Richard Shipp. Filmed in East Sussex it really captures the idea of Silent Cacophony and its abstract nature in making people think about the world constructed around them. The wet road from the rain exaggerating the sound of the vehicles is fantastic. – John, curator of Silent Cacophony Here are the initial thoughts of Sharon, who created a ‘Silence of Knitting’ intervention in Ticehurst, East Sussex, with later reflection below. Big day yesterday and also the few days working up to it. Plenty of things going through my head! Despite the recce the day before, I was quite anxious about doing it, no second takes and all that, and I hate to be photographed/videod LOL. Wanting it to be right. On Sunday we went to our village remembrance gathering at the war memorial in the centre of the village. We’ve gone every year since moving here – 15 years – and I think it’s the most important (and moving) annual village event. So affecting seeing veterans, the number dwindling each year. Both Richard’s and my father were in WWII – my dad was at the D Day landings as a Marine, and whilst he came back physically unharmed, he had nightmares from time to time, in which he would shout out unintelligibly (names? orders?). He died in 1989 and I take his service medals with me to the remembrance gathering. So all this was in my mind before the performance. The silence of the knitting struck me not just as that contemplative/wishful silence as you describe, but also a furious silence in which thousands of women attacked yarn as they battled their own fears and hardships in having to cope without their menfolk in difficult and anxious times, let alone that the men may never return. The silence/knitting as the world flashed by (as you will see!), a cocoon of sorts, and fitting the choice of location. In the place, no one could hear the reading, it’s only because I had a microphone in the shelter that any of it was picked up. I liked that – the words weren’t really for anyone else. Thinking about my own practice – knitting/sewing as a pastime as well as a barrier providing an opportunity to reflect whilst the hands are busy – this is certainly what I’ve been finding over the last year as I’ve been mainly doing stitched work. Once the agonising thinking about the nature of the work and its form has taken place, the many hours of making has provided a different sort of involvement and experience with the work, allowing new thoughts and directions to bubble up. The build up to the Silence has occupied me for some time and I think the taking part has had and will continue to have a profound effect. Reflecting a few days later I've been following Dawn Cole's work, and particularly the Resting Place project, for some time. My own work over the past year has explored domestic themes using handstitching and domestic linens extensively and so I've taken a particular interest in the work Dawn has done with pillowcases and embroidery. I saw her call for participants for The Silence of Knitting and knew I wanted to take part. However, on the cusp of moving house I wasn't able to commit to joining the Margate event so asked if I could stage an event elsewhere. Although strictly following the outline given by Dawn for the knitting and reading, I knew I had some flexibility on exactly how to record the event. I wanted a fairly simple set-up which would emphasise the quietness of the activity and the contemplation (and isolation) of the performer in contrast to life going on as normal. However, at the same time I didn't want too many different types of events and people in shot which may have proved distracting. On this basis I ruled out a number of venues in the centre of the village. I also knew I wanted a fixed camera position some distance from the performer, to record activity between the performer and the camera. The bus shelter is two minutes from where I live, yet was the last place I considered. It is on a straight stretch of road, and with no pavement, so that the traffic passes by quickly and very close. The shelter is basic and is almost totally enclosed, providing a isolated space with just one viewpoint out. Luckily, buses are infrequent hereabouts and the mid morning bus came and went before I had to take residence! During and afterwards, I felt very connected to the other knitters in the various locations. I also reflected on the remembrance gatherings in the village and in other villages and towns which had taken part the day before. The bugle calls, the wreath laying and the services are important community events, but this personal act provided me with a space and time for personal reflection, as it did for the women knitting whilst “doing their bit” for the war effort and supporting their loved ones.