I started working with fabric during the first lockdown. I am not sure what exactly triggered this other than a general sense of no progress, as if continuously rereading the same page, I was looking for an intermediary form, a go-between, a sense of potential in the long stretched present. I had been working with mylar, cutting film strips, painting, but this was a mechanical application of ideas about time and motion, in essence no different to painting or drawing.

At the same time, I was witnessing people arriving in dinghies on the beach in front of our house, seeing them coated with blankets, surrounded by border police, ambulances, rescue workers, a different level opens up.

The power of what I was seeing in these huddled images are present, combined with the power of thought they traffic in the gaps of the mind. So the fabric works are studies of introspection, methods of stripping finite analysis, through the agency of anachronic atmospheres in which time stands still. In these works objects are expressions, brutal at times and irrational. They are deconstructions; taking things apart, expressing reversal and internal workings. Stitching is about focus on the object, it is slow, intentional and limitless. It is also a tool to reject certainty.