Making a piece of work loosely titled “Days of my life”.

A durational experience as, to date there are over 22,000 of them. Each day made from a fragile piece of paper, coated with casein and coloured with inks that will fade but all stitched together into a surprisingly weighty piece. Perhaps it might weigh as much as me when finished!

The process invites reflection, stimulates memory to re-enact a time, feeling, event, thought or learning and informs the making. All a bit cloudy with age passed but somehow excited by the act in the present.

I watch my hands, consider the cuts, revel in the peeling away of the paper from its protective backing and consider what stitching is while wondering where the colour comes from and which it will be.

It was a piece begun only in thought but which in the making has taken on a life of its own.