28/06/2026
A worn woven rug, originally made by my mother in the 1950s.
Rather than let it disappear entirely, I cut parts of it into cushion covers and dyed them in indigo, allowing the cloth to shift into a new life without losing the evidence of age, wear and handling.
The cloth was already fragile, and the dyeing revealed more of that vulnerability rather than hiding it. I prefer that honesty. The remaining fragments have since been used in a framed textile collage, and the most damaged areas will be mended rather than discarded.
I am increasingly drawn to this kind of transformation.
When something carries both history and emotional weight, keeping it does not always mean preserving it intact. Sometimes it means allowing it to evolve, and finding another way for it to remain present.