"My Mother.

My mother instilled my love for art - how to appreciate it's different dimensions and how to fathom all it's materials, including textiles.

I accepted it as self evident that the secret to adulthood lay in the logic of her needlework and could be gleaned if I watched closely. Tangled in the textures of brocade and flannel, poised in the play of light with cotton, linen and satin,I got my first glimpse.

 

One day she taught me to draw.

For the first time I experienced reflection, shadow and the subtlety of touch with clarity. I found it in the depiction of shapes in space. In my twenties, I developed my own fashion line. It branched into a range of table linen that focused on the effect of paint on the various textiles. It was a full-circle moment.

 

Here my subject matter is material-intended-for-human-touch.

It is no more and no less than mere fabric. It is a childhood friend and an ally into womanhood, an advisor into motherhood, a pillar of my heritage. My relationship with it became conscious with the concept of the unmade bed; a universally relevant symbol. Puffed down, shimmering embroidery, cozy woolen wrinkles and shadowy folds, the unexpected transparency of a delicate sheet next to the heaviness of an imprint where warmth remains; confidential yet familiar countenances of us all.

 

With it I pay homage to the tangible functions of the humble bed

Thank you for rest at day's end,

for muffling turned pages until sleep conquers,

for healing respite,

for late night chatter with best friends,

for absorbing the salt of lament,

for solitude,

for holding loving intimacy,

for rejuvenating vitality,

for accepting the offering of new life,

for cushioning the last exhalation..."