WITH PAPER AND PASTE
Aid For The Red Cross
ence of papier maché work was confined to the making (in early childhood) of relief maps of New Zealand and the contemplation, also in early childhood, of a rather unattractive papier maché fruit dish in black enamel with white daisies on it which stood on the sideboard at home. I may also have gazed, | NTIL a few days ago my experi-
but with no particular interest, at an occasional papier maché egg-cup at the Church Bazaar. But until the other day I had no idea that papier maché was capable of playing a_ not-insignificant part in our national preparedness campaign. I had heard a rumour that a group of Lower Hutt women, members of the Papier Maché Branch of the Red Cross Auxiliary, were engaged in making utensils of various kinds to equip the First-Aid posts of their district. I visited their headquarters at the home of Mrs. Phillips, in Cornwall Street. I was taken first of all to the room in which some of the finished products were waiting to be despatched. There were large washbasins, kidney-bowls, instrument trays of various sizes, and shaped splints. I handled them. They were light and extremely hard. I dropped one. "You see, they don’t break," said Mrs. Phillips. "They're every bit as serviceable as enamel-ware, and of course enamel wear is very difficult to get these days. And apart from that the cost of equipping each of our First Aid Posts with enamelware would be considerable, whereas papier maché is made mostly from waste materials and costs next to nothing." It Must be Waterproof "Can it be washed?" I asked. "Yes, and sterilised," said Mrs. Phillips. "Otherwise we couldn’t use it for things like implement trays. You see the finished product, after drying out, is given one coat of waterproof size and two coats of enamel. The outside is thus completely waterproof." I was impressed by the beautifully smooth finish of the completed articles. "If there are any small roughnesses you can’t be sure that the paint has covered the whole thing properly and then there’s a danger that the article may absorb water, which, of course, would render it useless, But come and watch some of our members at work." I found myself in a large workroom with windows on three sides. In the middle a huge table was heaped high with strips of paper and articles in various stages of completion. Round the table eighteen women were working, talking and laughing. The Process Explained One of those in charge explained the ess to me. "You begin with the mould." She held up a small basin. "You cover it with soft soap to prevent it sticking to your papier maché and then proceed to cover it with a-jacket of light card. This in turn is covered with four layers of newspaper strips pasted (we make our own paste from flour and water), then another layer of card and four more of newspaper, finishing up with a layer of white paper. Larger articles, such as wash basins and splints require twelve layers of newspaper strips." "Why strips?" I asked. "Can’t you make things by merely pulping newspaper, then shaping it and leaving it to dry?" "Yes, but the articles are much less durable. Articles made from strips of
newspaper will stand up to almost anything. In fact, when we were given a papier maché splint to use as a model we had to saw it into pieces to find out how it was done." "s Patience And Skill I wandered round the table and watched the members at work. The job seemed to demand a large degree of patience and a measure of skill. Care is needed to see that each layer is perfectly smoothed before the next is started, and that there is approximately the same thickness of newspaper everywhere. The smoothing is accomplished by untiring massage with a _ pastecovered palm, so that the edges of one strip are merged into the preceding one. "All edges must be torn," explained the instructress behind me, "because they grip so much better. A straight cut edge tends to lift. And of course you need plenty of massage." "We enjoy the massage part," said one worker, "especially if we're massaging something we don’t like, like a picture of Hitler." She rubbed vigorously with her palm, but I noticed that it was strips of The Listener that were being thus massaged into oblivion.
"How many articles have been sent out?" I asked. "About five hundred so far. We've been going for eight months. But there’s really quite a lot of work in a single article. Those large basins, for instance, take a whole day to make." Sales Talk "If we carry on like this nobody will need to buy enamelware even after the war," remarked a worker. "We can form ourselves into a company and sell everything at a profit." "Court me out." The voice came from the depths of a very large papier maché basin. Two paste-encrusted arms gesticulated wildly. "I won’t contribute a single newspaper. As soon as the war’s over I’m going to get a great deal of pleasure from burning everything, absolutely everything, in the copper fire." "You can’t burn papier maché." "Absolutely indestructible-" "Doesn’t. break-" "Doesn’t chip-" "Lasts a lifetime-" Unnoticed in the hubbub I stole downstairs. The buzz of happy conversation followed me into the open air.
M.
B.
Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZLIST19420327.2.37.1
Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka
New Zealand Listener, Volume 6, Issue 144, 27 March 1942, Page 16
Word count
Tapeke kupu
909WITH PAPER AND PASTE New Zealand Listener, Volume 6, Issue 144, 27 March 1942, Page 16
Using this item
Te whakamahi i tēnei tūemi
Material in this publication is protected by copyright.
Are Media Limited has granted permission to the National Library of New Zealand Te Puna Mātauranga o Aotearoa to develop and maintain this content online. You can search, browse, print and download for research and personal study only. Permission must be obtained from Are Media Limited for any other use.
Copyright in the work University Entrance by Janet Frame (credited as J.F., 22 March 1946, page 18), is owned by the Janet Frame Literary Trust. The National Library has been granted permission to digitise this article and make it available online as part of this digitised version of the New Zealand Listener. You can search, browse, and print this article for research and personal study only. Permission must be obtained from the Janet Frame Literary Trust for any other use.
Copyright in the Denis Glover serial Hot Water Sailor published in 1959 is owned by Pia Glover. The National Library has been granted permission to digitise this serial and make it available online as part of this digitised version of the Listener. You can search, browse, and print this serial for research and personal study only. Permission must be obtained from Pia Glover for any other use.