This work is a response to caring for my husband while his depression seeped into every aspect of our lives and held us to ransom.
I clung to the remote values of my soul and slept walked through the years. My most meaningful solace was the sound of threaded sewing needle through fabric and pencil to paper, my unfaltering instinct was to keep working. Everything starts to make sense when I am producing a piece of work with my hands, it is a whole other world, I feel lost, numb, my heart beats slower and my breathing is like a pair of gallows.
This solitary time is hard to come out off, when I put my needle down and walk away I feel different.
In Black Handbag Land I found landscapes and hiding places, physical awkwardness and comforting intimacy.