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 a 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.