I am an artist working with found textile - cloth that has already been lived in, damaged, repaired, and kept – intervening in its histories with precision and purpose. My practice is grounded in five decades of embodied knowledge and shaped by research into how damage is held across time: materially, physiologically, and culturally. In a moment that converts difficult experience into content and demands resolution, my work takes a deliberate stance. What is withheld is as considered as what is made.
Cloth worn against skin is not a neutral surface.
Does work arrive in the body before it reaches the mind?
What if meaning forms in the handling, before it can be said?
Ephemeral, bodily, domestic. What gets counted as significant, and by whom?
What does it mean to withhold, when disclosure is the default?
What gets lost when the work of keeping things going is not counted as significant?
The work does not ask much. Except that you stop, and look, and stay.