Once upon a time in a land
where things were always threatening to fall through the cracks, there lived a young girl.
She was forever trying to capture things, to store them away.
A moment, a memory, a heartbeat, a smell.
She wanted to bottle them up, and save them for a rainy day,
when she could let them seep back into her and fill her with life.
She would store them in empty jam jars on the windowsill in the sunlight of the day
and the moonlight of the night.
But alas, things were forever slipping through the cracks, or floating away,
to live in the clouds of mystery forever.
Until one day she found a way.
They may appear decayed and discoloured,
but they are far from vacant.
Listen to them carefully
because they have an abundance of stories to whisper to you if you so allow it.
And I present to you my most recent textiles work for uni.
Sometimes it is hard to translate from cloth to written language. I don't think that everything in this world is meant to be filtered into writing, sometimes it exists within its own language. This work celebrated that element of textiles - the ability for textiles and cloth to tell stories. They capture and store marks, stains, scents by way of touch, of spillages, of being worn. In turn they come to be recorders of histories, stories, moments, places & things absorbing residues and essences. It is the cloth fullest of life that begins to break down and disintegrate.
The work is also based in the excitement, curiosity and wonder at unearthing a hidden treasure. What awaits them in the box? What are their stories? Who has held them? Where have they been? Whose residues do they hold? What have they seen?