I work with found and worn textiles, handling, deconstructing and remaking them as a way of holding difficult experience materially. Cloth carries memory in ways that resist easy explanation, and that resistance is where my practice begins.

The cloth I use arrives already marked: by use, by time, by damage accumulated through years of contact with a body or a household. It holds multiple histories simultaneously - the moment it was made, its age, its failure through wear, and whatever attempts to repair came before mine. These do not resolve into a single story. The interventions I make in this moment do not seek to resolve, or fix meaning. They are another layer of evidence, holding past and present together in open possibility.

The processes I use are deliberate and slow: touching and handling, tearing along the cloth's own structural lines, patching with garments chosen for cultural and bodily memory, often from my own wardrobe, and stitching that barely holds. The damage in the cloth is not an imposed metaphor. It is what is already carried there, and I work from it, placing my interventions alongside rather than over it.

Material has always been my argument. Over time the practice has moved away from imposed narrative toward allowing cloth to act directly - its own weight, its own record of endurance, its own refusal to be resolved.

The domestic, body-adjacent histories held in found cloth - the labour of care, maintenance, and use that has largely gone unrecorded - run through all of this. They do not need stating. They are already present in the material.

My work asks for a specific kind of intimate attention: to encounter rather than decode, to stay with what has been marked, held under pressure, and continues, regardless.