I am travelling home with a suitcase full of vintage sequins and probably not far shy of one hundred meters of hat wire. There is adequate room for them in my case as I travelled with clothes that I could leave at my parents’ apartment should it be appropriate – it is appropriate.
I am not exactly sure what I will do with the sequins – a collection of reels in a glorious colours: champagne translucent, pale pink iridescent, teal, fucshia, fire orange – I see them on new drape pieces … extensions and developments of the material needs exercise.
I want to be in the studio, to gently close the door to, and to surround myself with my glitter, with my fabrics, with my ties, with my sequins, and my needles and my threads and my pins and my wires … and to pretend that everything is going to carry on just the way it is.
I shall go to the studio, I shall makes things, everything though will change … and that’s okay, that’s how it is … it’s just going to take some getting used to. My hope is that things will change slowly until … until they don’t change anymore … until the come to rest.
And then I will keep going knowing that that is exactly what I am meant to be doing. That that was always the meaning even before I knew how to make things, before I knew who I was, before I knew how to breath
