When I walked through the front door of Kate Daudy’s house recently, she handed me two delicate crocheted four-leafed clovers. ‘They have arrived today from Syria, they are the latest batch of doilies I asked them to make’, Kate told me. Daudy’s optimism oozes out of her even when referring to the Syrian refugee crisis. There is always hope, or miracles, even in the most desperate of circumstances. Her long held belief that we can all make a difference if we do something small continues with her Syrian project, long after the exhibition is over. Through the sale of her work she continues to fund Syrian refugee women to make the doilies so that they earn a little money of their own - a tiny gesture that may improve their day-to-day life. Daudy sees that art can be not just useful to the viewer as a tool for thinking but also, in this case literally, useful to the communities where they are made.

Daudy is not into grand gestures because it is too easy to evade responsibility with the belief ‘I cannot change anything’. Daudy firmly believes we have a social responsibility to everyone in the world. She sees that at some point we are all connected and this underpins all of her multi-disciplinary practice. While COVID might represent a little storm in a teacup in terms of world history, living through the pandemic suddenly makes sense of what Daudy feels.

“Covid 19 kept us apart physically. For the first time in my life I am not allowed into the country of my birth, but in some strange way it has also connected us globally as we listen to death tolls, how Governments handle the crisis and news of vaccine rates. It is, sadly, a shared experience”

“When I get home, I hold the emerald and forest green doilies in my hand and find myself mesmerised by them. The perfect clover formed of immaculate and delicate crochet stitches give the impression that they were created in a cozy, domestic environment. Rather, they were created in the living hell of Homs and Aleppo in Syria that, on top of war, now has to deal with rising coronavirus cases and more death. This jarring realisation jolts me. In Irish culture, the four-leafed clover is a powerful symbol because the plant is so rare. Legend accords it magical properties of bringing good fortune and it is believed to ward off evil spirits. I do wonder if there is a message to us sent by these Syrian women.”

Daudy uses the colourful round multicoloured doilies to create a series of works such as This and Lucky You (pictured). They recall a traditional tree of life, the vivid colours and textures are layered to create a festival of joyous colour. This is no coincidence because during lockdown Daudy has been reading the Book of Revelation. Here in verse 22: ‘On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.’ The tree of life is an appropriate leitmotif of Daudy’s practice as it is a symbol in which most religions and peoples of the world have a strong tradition and, importantly, despite their differences, a fundamental connection.

‘We are all connected’ is Daudy’s mantra.

In her new exhibition, that will appear here online exclusively before being published in hardback, the miracle takes centre stage and is explored through a series of drawings, artworks and texts that trace their history from the ancient world through historical religious painting to the sublime in the everyday. I KNEW YOU WOULD COME BACK TO ME is the fruit of Daudy’s reflections during COVID. During lockdown Daudy has been reading extensively about philosophy and religion. Arundati Roy’s video essay The Pandemic is a Portal; C.S.Lewis; Esther de Waal; Marina Warner; Karen Armstrong; Lars Muhl; Dostoevsky; Seamus Heaney; Mary Oliver; Pema Chodron; Martin Lings; Carl Jung; John Cage; Alice Oswald; Nick Laird; Don Paterson; Zadie Smith. Her reading has not been limited to the Western tradition but also extended to Asia, where Lao Tse and particularly the Taoist philosophy and poetry are staples. While it might seem strange to give a mini bibliography of her reading it seems hugely important in understanding her art, as Daudy’s practice is so literary and her reading directly informs her work.

Daudy studied Egyptian literature and magic, including the Book of the Dead for her exhibition It Wasn’t That At All, Daudy’s artistic response to the blockbuster Tutankhamun: Treasures of the Golden Pharaoh. The show was held to great acclaim at the Saatchi Gallery in 2019-20, during which time she became interested in hieroglyphs. This has led her to try to teach herself Aramaic during the lockdown and explore texts written in, what she points out is not infrequently referred to as, ‘the language of the angels’. It is also the most ancient language of the Middle East and could be seen as the root language for connecting many ancient cultures and even modern languages, an aspect undoubtedly not lost on Daudy. Ideas and excerpts from her research often appear in her book of miracles. Titles are also carefully considered and created and add an additional layer of meaning. Her reading records not just books which influenced her, but also allude to her thinking and her creative process. They are intended to connect the viewer directly to her. Daudy’s aim is for the book to be an ‘invitation to start a conversation about issues that you feel are important’. It is a thought-scape, if you like, looking at life through different cultures and religions. The book is also intended to act as a record of the COVID year, this strange, unsettling and all too often tragic time in all our lives.

This period has been a particularly difficult time for Daudy. She suffered a significant bereavement at the beginning of the pandemic and is still exploring the emotional aftermath of visiting the refugee camps in the Middle East. Suddenly, everyone has become acutely aware of the transience of life and, as we are forced to stay safe at home, many people have commented how they now appreciate the little things in life so much more. Daudy certainly feels this and has enjoyed immensely the prolonged time she has spent with her family.  This domestic bliss is countered for her by the doilies, stacked up in bags around her studio, the vibrant and joyous colours a constant reminder of those whose refugee status has left them homeless, adrift, unwanted but alive and, surprisingly, still with hope. One of the things that astounded Daudy about the refugee camps was the people’s ‘bravery and beauty of spirit and dignity and faith’. With faith we have hope and so Daudy fervently believes that we all have a duty to respect people’s faith even if it is different to our own.

During my last studio visit, just before the latest lockdown, for the first time Daudy told me some stories of her time in Syria visiting refugee camps, rehabilitation centres for those who had been tortured and visiting hospitals where people, including young children, are recovering from horrific and indescribable injuries. This journey started with a simple project about ‘home and identity’ but transformed into something life-changing for Daudy. Her work, titled Am I My Brother’s Keeper?, is a United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) standard issue tent, which many refugee families at the Zaatari camp in Jordan call home. Daudy has embroidered the outside with quotes from conversations she had with some of the refugees she met in the camps.

Incongruously, there are also hollyhock flowers embroidered and applied along the side of the tent and these reflect the flowers some refugees plant to make the camps feel more like home. They represent the spirit of survival. This project has been profoundly meaningful and important to Daudy. The work was first displayed at St Paul’s Cathedral in London and the project expanded her practice into organising conferences, performances and talks about the crisis and what it means to be a human being. Daudy has donated the tent to the UNHCR and it is currently touring the world, highlighting the plight of the refugee. It has been so well received in Spain that it is now studied as part of the national curriculum.

Daudy’s experience taught her to value the small things in life, to be grateful and try always to be positive. We often see our everyday tasks and even our existence on earth as pointless but it isn’t, Daudy tells me emphatically. ‘It is a philosophy of humility’. She gets very emotional when she tells me the story of an ‘amazing’ man whose humility was astounding and inspiring. His actions saved at least 60 lives, yet he is humble and does not consider himself a hero. The men in a small village in Syria were rounded up and killed and were later found outside the village, their bodies horrifically and disrespectfully stacked up like a Jenga tower. This man realised that the women of the village would be attacked and raped and so he went to the village and walked these women to the other side of Syria to a refugee camp. While Daudy was visiting this man she noticed the children outside his tent had a swing. How did they get a swing in a refugee camp where people had nothing and thought it incredible to see a pen? The man told her that children needed to smile and have fun and so he used his only UN issue blanket to make a swing for them. This incredible person was ‘miraculous’, but he could not comprehend how his actions had been so heroic. Daudy shows me a photo of the children swinging, laughing and acting normally, a priceless gift.

Follow Daudy through her book of miracles, the everyday things she sees in her world, that delight and excite her and try, as her reading of Titus Lucretius Carus’s poem instructed, to envision them anew again. From the crumbled blue plastic bag that represents the corner shop, a keystone of British émigré culture, to the miracle of her notes that had disappeared and miraculously reappeared on her iphone – a very 21st century miracle but one to which we can all relate!  To her fingerprint outlined by a humorous written text ‘I am the one doing this’, a symbol of our uniqueness now used to unlock our personal technical world.  A chance encounter at the doctor; when Daudy greeted a passer by and was presented with a bag of apples a  gesture which touched  Daudy yet also reminds me of Snow White and the poisoned apple.  The gesture has connotations with ancient fairy stories. If we strip back invention have we changed that much?  

Waltman’s contrast between the small miracles contained in both the urban and the natural world resonate with Daudy and, coincidentally, feature in a lot of her subject-matter. Daudy’s primary love is the natural world and it is hugely meaningful and inspirational for her.

Landscape is an important part of her oeuvre and its inclusion crosses media and boundaries: from small scale drawings and large textural panels to conceptual works, which even feature ephemeral objects physically placed in a landscape. Some of these objects, like nature itself, are intended to wither and decay. Daudy is equally comfortable with art that lasts for minutes, such as a performance piece enacted at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park that is now only a memory or a procession with thousands of people dancing, or for centuries, such as the paintings, tapestries and photographs she is constantly inspired by.

In order to remind herself of the curious year of 2020, she approached a gem specialist and asked if he had a stone that she could keep with her as a tool for reminding her of two things ‘1. to have faith and 2. take responsibility for myself’. He showed her three, and she chose one that she was pleased to learn was called a Heaven’s Eye agate. It seemed appropriate too to her project on Miracles. To her immense surprise and delight the gemologist gave her the stone as a gift. She had mounted it into a ring which she wears every day. This small, but powerful, stone sits on her hand; a watchful and protective eye, reminding her of lessons learned, and that there is no such thing as detail.