for wilfred

In early 2022 I had the privilege of working on a very special commemorative commission. I pieced together vintage linen (much repaired, hemmed, some monogrammed, tea towel sized) to create a two meter hanging.

The piece was commissioned by a granddaughter in memory of her grandfather Wilfred. My heart warmed towards Wilfred while looking at documents from his life and reading a handwritten note of thanks to his son and daughter-in-law (the commissioners parents). Precious echos from which to create from and this writing became central to the piece.

I love working with repaired fabric and these textiles were skilfully mended, showing their value, that thrift and longevity were important. I added another layer, working in collaboration with the unknown sewer, connected for a time and couldn't help but wonder about their life too.

Goodbye, Hurriedly, Dear Both

hawthorn

The tree hand embroidered onto this child's nightgown grows at the end of Englands Lane in Loughton, Essex. As a girl I remember sitting underneath its branches and colouring in my flower fairy book. This memory leads to the next, that afternoon I developed sun stroke and spent the rest of the day in our back bedroom, curtains drawn, being sick. This memory is vivid and hazy all at once.

Throughout my life I've held a soft spot for this gnarly hawthorn, probably growing before the housing estate was built in the 1940's. I'd often walk past it when visiting Mum. 

Last year my sister and I packed up Mum's house after her death and this spring, knowing I was leaving the London/Essex area and moving to Derbyshire I photographed the tree, intending to embroider it onto a girls nightdress. Now made I can see it's not quite right, Mum would have appreciated the work BUT there is another version that could be made, an embroidery onto a 1970's synthetic nightdress, less pretty, odd. Can I spend another 100+ hours hand sewing? 

Yes. 

All I need is to source or make a nightdress, I have a pattern from the era purchased from Ebay, but (annoyingly) its buried in a storage unit in Derby with most of my belongings...

For now, I'll take a breath and appreciate the focus and effort involved in making this.       

 Hawthorn dress in a holly grove

hawthorn

It was very pleasant two evenings ago to pick up my fine needle and make a start with embroidering my hawthorn tree image onto a girls handmade nightgown. After a long search for the right dress I purchased the nightgown in a vintage shop in Cromford, Derbyshire this February.

Resting on its small wooden hanger, haunting my living room, the dress called to me begin, begin... It had to be patient and wait but, finally, tiny grey stitches pierced their way through warp and weft. Picking up my needle brings me closer to myself, it makes sense, it brings me home.

This hawthorn tree is near my childhood home, I'd photographed it recently and created the tracing, musing upon my childhood, the forest, the lack, the wonder, the meaning behind taking needle to cloth for this solitary tree and the solitary girl.      

mum

My mum, Doreen Logan, died on the 2nd May. Her funeral, on the 18th May was a month ago today. Now I am paused, at times with no words to describe how I feel. 

As a little girl I stitched this lavender bag for her using fabric scraps and ribbon. It still retained a trace of scent almost 40 years after its making. It was one of the items placed in her coffin.