Mended
Paper and thread
85 cm x 46 cm x 12 cm
ARTIST’S STATEMENT
To mend is to repair — to gather what has been broken, torn, or left behind, and hold it again, gently, in a new form. It is an act of care, of presence, of belief that beauty can remain, even after change. Mending is never perfect. It is an act of tenderness, a quiet rebellion against loss. No matter how careful the hand stitch, how close the thread pulls, the seams speak of what was. But in those seams lies truth. In the patchiness, lies grace.
I come from fashion, where precision was a currency and consistency a prerequisite. I used to design polo shirts for a school so large that identity had to be uniform — measured, mirrored, multiplied. There is comfort in that rhythm and repetition. In knowing what comes next. But in that sameness, something inside me went quiet. And so I left.
Now, I create art. Paper has replaced fabric, but the hand remains the same. I roll, fold, glue — tiles of browns, blacks, whites, off-whites — warm like memory, cool like absence. Each piece is slightly different, shaped by its curve, its weight, its moment. There is patchiness in this work: a deliberate unevenness that reflects how life moves. Some parts light, some dark, some sharp, some soft. Despite all their intense differences, they are all held together by one thing: a golden thread.
This thread is not just structural — it’s symbolic. A golden line of connection that draws the eye and soothes the soul. It stitches fragments into form, just as this new path has gently stitched something whole inside me. Leaving fashion was not a loss – it was a mending of my spirit. Of my soul. The repetition I once knew still lives in the work, but now it is slower, calmer. More forgiving. More me.
Mending is not always tactile. It can be emotional, relational, unseen. A person can be mended after grief, a bond repaired after distance. These quiet acts of restoration remind me of Kintsugi — the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. The crack does not disappear; it becomes a feature. A shimmer of vulnerability, worn with pride.
There is nostalgia here — of fabric, of function, of earlier versions of myself. But also peace. Because mending doesn’t mean forgetting. It means honouring what was, while finding new ways to hold it.
This piece — Mended — is a meditation on restoration. Each irregular tile, each shift in tone or shape, contributes to a mosaic of memory and change. The golden thread gathers every part — past, present, imperfect, true – into something whole that is now worn with pride. Something calm, yet quietly alive. Every viewer will find their own reason to resonate with this piece; everyone will have their own versions of mended parts — threads of memory, emotion, or experience that quietly stitch them back to wholeness in their own way.