In the days leading up to and after my mother’s death I find myself stitching …
Piecing together fragments of memory. Not the algorithmic social media- “On this day” kind of instant gratification and fragmented representations of surface self but the analogue kind. Slow, archealogical explorations, meditations through a lifetime …the stuff that exists deep down. That kind of “Bergsonian -memory -is- matter” stuff that is woven into the fibre of our souls.
Stitch…my mother the daughter… stitch…my mother the woman … stitch …my mother the lover… stitch…my mother the seamstress…stitch… my mother… stitch… my friend…Myrtle Grace. These are meditations on love.
Materials and processes
Eco-dyed silk, paper and cotton doilies from my mum’s house. Dyed and printed with flowers and plants from my garden.
Paper, silk, copper, stainless steel and cotton threads, silk moth cocoons, vintage ribbon and embroidery floss from my mum’s sewing basket, kept and collected twigs, stones and driftwood from family holidays at the beach, dressmaking patterns, photographs printed on cotton.
Hand stitched, woven, crocheted and eco-dyed.
