The thought that fabric captures and holds “memory” excites my imagination.

The thought that an old piece of clothing is implanted with stories of the wearer.

The thought that a piece of stitched table linen holds within it the secrets of a household.

I take the phrase “the fabric of our lives” quite literally.

I am exploring the real and imagined emotional evidence left behind on garments and household linens and wondering about the stories of the people who have come into contact with them over the years. I assume that even chance contacts can leave their mark and wonder if we could see these, “what would they reveal?”