What is it that we return to when we are creatures again, wounded well to our remembrances. Draped vulnerability across silk, my points of touch across the day. The silent blistered scent of guidance transcribed.

A rolled hem on silk is a beautiful thing regardless; delicate callouses and the soft musky scent of yesterday's perfume along a pallu. Layered days that meld together, separated by threads that carry more than the sun. For me textile carries my most intimate points of identity, those moments of reflection when I am sitting in a puddle of silk at the end of the day having severed the threads of my drape. With this installation I hope to extend an invitation to this place.

Catalogue coming soon