I’ve been wanting to make a self portrait for a while now. Something that says not only who I am, but where I came from. I’ve been so frustrated this week, trying to get it right, and have been crashing around a lot, shouting at the cat.
But today, salvation arrived, in the form of a million patchwork pieces my Mum started about 30 years ago on long, lonely Sunday afternoons. I’ve made some of my own to match hers. I’m going to sew them all together, hers and mine, and then embroider the whole lot with a secret code that only worriers will recognise.
It’s going to be very hard work. I can hardly bear to think about it.
It’s either genius, or bonkers. Or possibly both.