New Work by Vivienne Beaumont for UNmaking

The theme of UNmaking immediately brought to mind Penelope—her weaving, and more importantly, her unravelling. Her nightly act of dismantling Laertes' burial shroud was a clever, silent defiance against a patriarchal hegemony.

I have always loved the poetic symbolism embedded in cloth. Textiles possess a unique capacity to hold memory, tension, and history within their very structure. In ancient Greece, cloth-making was relegated to the domestic sphere as 'woman’s work.' Denied a public voice, women embedded their personal and cultural symbolism directly into the weave—creating a visual language older than written text, one that transcends the verbal.

Paradoxically, almost everything recorded about women from this era comes through male writers like Homer and Ovid, whose heroines inevitably articulated a male worldview. Yet, weaving emerges in their tales as a primary tool of female resistance. Penelope, Philomela, and Arachne all used thread to redefine their roles within a rigid social order. In Homer’s Odyssey (c. 750–650 BCE), Penelope wards off unwanted suitors by declaring she will choose a husband only once her weaving is complete. By un-ravelling her work by night, she resists; she rebels. The rhythm of weaving and undoing becomes, as scholar Steven Lowenstam noted, "something akin to sympathetic magic… in the undoing of her work she was drawing Odysseus nearer to home."

Process, Heritage, and Olga De Amaral

As I develop these pieces, I find inspiration in the practice of Olga De Amaral, the Colombian artist renowned for her monumental, gilded textile works.

"As I build surfaces, I create spaces of meditation, contemplation and reflection… Tapestry, fibres, strands, units, cords, all are transparent layers with their own meanings, revealing and hiding each other to make one presence, one tone that speaks about the texture of time." — Olga De Amaral

 Amaral’s work powerfully demonstrates how creative impulses are guided by "cultural DNA." Her signature application of gold leaf to textile substrates responds directly to pre-Columbian gold-working and its ancestral connotations. Sparked initially by the Japanese philosophy of kintsugi—the art of repairing breaks with gold—she used this concept as an inward lens to examine her own heritage in series like Fragmentos Completos and Alquimia. By weaving gold back into the Colombian narrative, she reclaims a resource historically plundered from her land.

The Alchemy of Gold and British Myth

While I am neither Greek nor Colombian, my choice to introduce gold leaf on to my repurposed substrates connects directly to my identity as a British artist. For millennia, humanity has been captivated by gold—a material bound across time to the warmth, radiance, and life-giving energy of the sun. In prehistoric Britain, Bronze Age makers crafted exquisite golden sun discs and ceremonial adornments, elevating metal to represent spiritual illumination and human connection long before it became a currency of material wealth. Furthermore, engaging with classical Trojan mythology brings me into direct dialogue with Britain’s own mythic heritage. In medieval British legend—codified by Geoffrey of Monmouth—Britain was founded by Brutus of Troy, an exile who carried the cultural remnants of the classical world across the seas. By drawing upon the stories of Troy and Penelope, I am tapping into an origin myth that was woven into the very fabric of British historical identity for centuries. For me, gold operates primarily as an alchemical symbol—not as a display of wealth, but as an emblem of inner transformation. 

In this project I work with domestic vintage tablecloths—carrying the weight of human touch and memory—ripping them into raw strips that are then re-woven together and coloured directly by the sun using the cyanotype process. This is not delicate work; it is textural, physical, and crude. By applying gold leaf across these rough, sun-dyed surfaces and torn edges, the coarse weave beneath fractures and affects the gold, transforming something unmade and dismantled into a resonant surface. 

In Conversation with Vivienne Beaumont

You’ve spoken about connecting to an ancient lineage through your symbols and imagery. How do you see the relationship between your personal choices in the studio and a broader human history?

Ultimately, whether consciously or unconsciously, our cultural heritage flows through every mark we make. We do not create in a vacuum; our hands are guided by what Carl Jung described as the collective unconscious—that deep reservoir of shared ancestral memory, archetypes, and instinctual knowledge.

You talk about cultural heritage. Why is this important to you?

I don’t want to borrow someone else's cultural heritage—it would feel wrong, superficial, and inauthentic. There are so many decisions along the way, and they are all fed by memory and the unconscious. My work needs to be from the heart and soul, otherwise there would be no motivation to create it. 

In the machine-embroidered pieces in the current exhibition, Penelope 1 and 2, you have used some interesting effects. Can you share your techniques?

I use a Taylor tacking foot on my Bernina sewing machine. It creates loops that can be cut through or over-stitched for a matted texture. To create a woven effect in Penelope 2, I controlled the direction of the stitching, with an emphasis on vertical and horizontal machine stitching to emulate the warp and weft, allowing Penelope to either emerge from or be absorbed by her own cloth.

So, what next, as the exhibition moves on to Richmond and then Farnham?

I am going larger—I have new woven substrates on my pin board. I am building up layers with cyanotype and screen printing to create dense, interesting surfaces. By cutting up the woven substrates I have created a checkerboard on which to add my Penelope to tell her story. Exploring UNmaking has allowed me to bridge these ancient mythologies with material process. In my current work, I combine these curated substrates with machine embroidery, unravelling fabric and inserting figures and golden symbols directly into the warp and weft—using gold as an alchemical mark of transformation.

How does scaling up alter your relationship with the unravelling and reconstruction process?

The time they take to evolve has meant that these works were not ready for Stroud. They will gestate on my pin board while I mull over the next stage.

UNmaking is currently showing at the Museum in the Park, Stroud. Be sure to check our website for details on our full programme of upcoming exhibition workshops!