My work is an ancient memory that rises up in ritual from deep within my bones; it spins through my fingertips into warp and weft, and weaves stories into the world.
Born from the loom, each weaving is alive, animate at its core, indigenous to its place. My hands blend and spin yarn with colours lent by plants, and fibres lent by sheep, and weave them into tales of rich encounters and deep inner processes.
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My hands weave connection where there has been separation and love where there is grief. They weave a celebration of the cyclical nature of life and death, creating blankets for both births and burials. They weave shawls to hold their wearers through times of change, and rites of passage. They weave a deep reverence for the magic and mystery within this life.
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This ancient craft, is my slow activism. It is only possible when in relationship with Earth, and so it is always a collaboration. A beautifully reciprocal and often colourful meeting place of the combined gifts of many beings who each have a story to tell. The colour and medicine lent by plants, the soft and scented textures of wool lent by sheep, the fluidity of water which mixes and blends in the heat of fire and dances alchemy and transformation inside the dye pot.
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The birds who guide me, trees who inspire me, and Spider who first showed me what it meant to weave. I have many teachers and allies in this work. My weavings are an ode to them all; a weaving of gratitude and love for this wild life.
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Image by Charlotte J Ward