Wasteland 2025

Wasteland is a term often attached to areas of land deemed to have no inherent value. This shallow labelling, which denies the ecological value of these lands, has led to their misuse by wealthy elites who twist the delicate ecosystems to their whims in order to capitalise from their destruction.

For the residency, I have explored the concept ‘wasteland’ through a collection of weave, textile sculpture, print, and drawing, using repurposed everyday waste to weave into the narrative. The use of packaging plastics, papers and foils are regular features in my work. I enjoy the challenge of reworking these materials into precious artworks which uncover the hidden value of the things we usually discard.

I focus in particular on heather moorland burning, and peatland drainage in the UK - the burning to produce favourable conditions for the breeding of red grouse for hunting season, and peatland drainage historically carried out to create high grade arable and horticultural land. These peatlands, however, are important for storing carbon and providing valuable habitat for a wealth of species. The practices of heather burning and peatland drainage contribute to the degradation of the land, which then releases precious carbon stores into our earth’s atmosphere.

Through drawing and material exploration I was able to develop artworks exploring the land being laid waste to, creating a tension between the natural materials and the synthetic, and celebrating ecosystems that can easily go overlooked. Patchwork landscapes from heather burning, luscious alien-looking sphagnum moss, feathers of the prize red grouse and the vivid orange of the flamethrower gas canister, all lent the project their visual inspiration.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and your artistic practice?

Hi, my name’s Jodie. I’d describe myself as a mixed-media artist who specialises in handweaving. A core focus of my practice is in sustainability, so I try to work with a lot of recycled materials from my day-to-day life. I’m interested in transforming things like discarded paper or plastic, usually from packaging, chocolate bars, and green grocer vegetable sacks… The list goes on. I feel like there are so many shiny, brightly coloured things which are manufactured to entice us, and they immediately go in the bin - so why not give them a second life? I also have a practice in natural dyeing, and I do my own growing of dye plants alongside participating in community gardens wherever I happen to be! 

During the residency, you worked on a series of artworks that focused on "wasteland" and its shallow labeling. Can you tell us more about the conceptual framework of this series?

My series was inspired by the way in which land is mistreated by the very owners who claim to be custodians protecting it. I was interested in the term “wasteland” in particular, a declaration that the area of land has no inherent value and therefore is wasted space. 

In the UK, where I’m from, there’s a long history of land being exploited in order to achieve financial gain, and I chose to focus in particular on peatland bog drainage and heather moorland burnings. Peatlands are some of the earth’s most important carbon stores, they store ⅓ of all soil carbon - which is twice as much as rainforests - whilst only covering between 3-4% of the world’s surface. In the UK, historically, peatland bogs were drained to create nutrient-rich arable and horticultural land. The act of drainage destroys the ability of the land to continue to sequester carbon from the atmosphere and can lead to flooding, since there is no longer the ability to store vast amounts of liquid in the earth through the destruction of the thick carpet of plant life such as sphagnum moss which can absorb up to 20x its weight in water.

The burning of heather on grouse moorlands is a practice adopted by landowners to prepare for the grouse-hunting season. The burning encourages new heather growth in order to create favourable conditions for grouse breeding so that there will be plenty at the time of the hunting season. The burning of the heather can dry out the land and damage the peat, meaning the carbon which has spent years building up is released into the atmosphere as carbon dioxide. Some grouse moors have stopped their burning practices over growing pressure from environmental concerns, but the practice still continues in some areas.

I wanted to explore how I might develop this into a narrative which highlights the problem with these practices and celebrates the land whose value lies not in its ability to turn a profit from those who have ownership over it but in its mechanisms, which are critical in the healthy functioning of the earth.

What motivated you to apply and participate in this online program? What were your initial goals and expectations?

After having moved to Switzerland in the previous year, I felt the need to find an artistic community where I was able to share ideas and gain inspiration in order for me to continue to grow my practice and meet people with a shared ethos concerning our planet. I was looking for residencies to apply to when I found the open call for the online program, and I was curious. I had no expectations of how an online residency might function when I applied, but it really spoke to me as something which could connect well with my work. The ability to carry out the work at home meant that I had access to my loom and any equipment I might need, which may not have been available had I done a residency elsewhere. 

My main goal was to develop a project with a strong narrative. I’ve gotten used to material exploration and experimentation being the driving force of my work, which I find very useful and rewarding, but I wanted to use this opportunity to challenge myself to do things a bit differently.

You mention the challenge of transforming everyday waste into "precious artworks." How does your choice of specific materials—such as packaging plastics, papers, and foils—contribute to the narrative and conceptual framework of your pieces, and what symbolic or metaphorical meanings do these materials hold?

I was really interested in how the use of waste poetically wove itself into the project. It felt as though there were many linking threads; from the use of waste materials, to the wasteland itself and the destructive practices which lay waste to the land. These ideas all worked together to form a wonderfully circular narrative.

For the sculptural works “Wasteland” and “Waste Knot”, I wanted to create something with a very organic feeling which echoed the mossy carpets of the peat bogs. I used a variety of different waste materials, handspun and hand-corded and old weave offcuts, which enabled me to create luscious textures mimicking the richness and diversity in peatland flora. The plastic gauze sacking material that I used for the structure is a vibrant saturated orange colour. This orange was important as it symbolised the fire of the moorland burnings and matched the vivid warning colour of the gas canisters used.

Your collection of works spanned from weaving, textile sculpture, print, and drawing. Can you elaborate on the specific techniques or processes you use to create a strong visual language in connection with your conceptual research?

I began by drawing for my research, to help generate ideas and visual imagery which I could then use to develop the work. With the weaving, I wanted to work with natural dyes, which were readily available to me, so I gathered things like alder cones and ivy, which were abundant in January, as well as home grown and dried materials from the previous year. The dyes provided me with a beautiful earthy colour palette to work with. Initially, I had wanted to use the resist dyeing technique ‘Ikat’ to create patterns in the weave evocative of the highly patterned feathers of the grouse, however, the technique didn’t behave quite as planned, instead creating a mottled, rugged textural appearance. I worked with this unintentional texture, to weave blocky forms of colour to portray the patchwork appearance of the burned heather moorlands. Areas woven with superfine yarn are almost transparent and give the sense of lifelessness. Using the linocut I carved of exaggerated grouse feathers, I printed iron modifier paste onto the finished fabric to create blackened areas reminiscent of scorching.

Your work incorporates both natural and synthetic materials, creating a tension between the two. How does this juxtaposition contribute to the overall narrative and emotional impact of your pieces?

There’s a challenge in wanting to create work with aesthetic appeal whilst trying to communicate challenging subject matter at the same time, there’s a risk that the message could even become lost. I think that there’s an intrigue in materials of very differing and opposing qualities being used in combination, which sparks curiosity in the viewer. I think you can create work in this way such that there is almost a discomfort as much as an appeal, which makes you want to question why are these materials being used? When I weave naturally dyed supple silk fabric together with a thick plastic material in a saturated synthetic colour, it really makes that feature stand out. For the woven piece ‘Carbon Captors’ I think that the black plastic strapping I used did this well. By shredding the material to weave in, I was able to create a sense of it trying to escape with reaching and twisting arms and tendrils, against the soft and calm of the woven silk and linen and its rippling flowing dyework.

Can you share an example of how you and your fellow artists inspired or learned from each other during the collaborative process?

Having the weekly group discussions was an invaluable part of the residency, as it allowed us to share and give each other feedback on our projects whilst getting to know one another. Each of us had our own specialised way of working, so there was a lot to learn about each other's practices, such as Bronwen’s work creating paint from plastic, James’ monotype process and experiments with chine-collé and Charlotte’s writing process. Having this diversity within the group meant that we could ask questions about one another’s work that we might not question ourselves. It was especially interesting having Charlotte in the group as a writer to gain perspective from somebody not practicing visual art, which also challenged me to think about constructive ways of responding to written work. I also found it really useful during our lecture program to hear the groups' responses to the different artists and projects we were introduced to, to understand different perspectives and develop skills in critical reflection. 

In the future, how do you see your artistic practice engaging with broader discourses surrounding land ownership, environmental justice, and the rights of marginalized communities who are often disproportionately affected by environmental destruction?

There are some major structural shifts to be made and a huge amount of uncertainty in the world at this point in time. I would like to get involved in community arts projects which might involve land being brought back into collective ownership with initiatives to begin to restore degraded lands to their former health. I will continue to work in community gardens and similar schemes as they are brilliant for invigorating and educating local communities, and bringing together people from all walks of life - which is crucial for mutual understanding and empathy.

If you could give one piece of advice to future participants of this program, what would it be?

Keep an open mind. If you go into it with a very specific idea of what you want to do, it could end up limiting you, so be flexible and open to different possibilities. Trust in the process and see where your creativity takes you!

Find out more about the artist here.

See the immersive virtual exhibition here.

All images courtesy of Jodie Anna Posen.

Cover Image:

Waste Land, 2025. Textile sculpture made from woven plastic vegetable sack material with internal lino print. Embellished with handspun, corded and shredded salvaged waste materials.