When I first returned to textile art, I was so tied up with personal grief, with day to day survival, with hospital visits, medication, nurses, doctors, and the monotony of being a carer, that I couldn't think beyond the confines of small squares. 

The Covid19 Pandemic has terrified me, made me feel very vulnerable.  It's felt like layer upon layer of anxiety and stress, each new stress threatening to stall me, and yet I keep on plodding through.  One day, I think, there will be a stress too many, but for now I just keep going.   

In 1982, as an 18 year old, I spent a month in Cyprus.  I took with me the grief of loosing my mother two years earlier, the pain of a broken relationship with my father, and the burgeoning freedom and responsibilities of adulthood.  It wasn't an idylic month, but I fell in love with the country, the heat, dust, stillness of the landscape... read more

It's autumn: not a season I'm fond of.  This year it has an extra kick to it.   I'm back in 'sheilding' from this pandemic and I'm feeling somewhat blue.  Stitching the endless dead-ends into whatever scraps of fabric come my way.... read more

These pieces of work are the result of the first twelve months of coming to terms with grief, (or not) with the loss of the future I had planned.   Mostly, days felt bleak, but I hung onto the occassional days, hours, moments ... read more