Select Page
Everything wants to be a necklace

Everything wants to be a necklace

Practicing NOT making jewellery NOT using metal To move beyond where I’m at It’s a challenge Everything wants to be a necklace   Collecting, Deconstructing, Reconstructing   A double sided homemade cardboard loom with a built in hole Site for experimental...
Channelling Meret

Channelling Meret

I truly have no idea what I have done since I wrote my last blog. I’ve been looking back at Meret Oppenheim’s compositions, marvelling at Keith Sonnier’s colours and neons, trawling through Hilary Mantel’s latest novel The Mirror and the Light. The daily explorations...
Thoughts on holes

Thoughts on holes

I’ve been exploring holes a lot in my work lately so I thought I would write a list of all the different words for holes that I can think of. Holes continue to be a running theme throughout my current works and I spend a lot of time thinking about different kinds of...
HANDSHAKE IN HAMILTON

HANDSHAKE IN HAMILTON

Left: Hannah Ireland, Closed Curtains, 2020  Right: Jack Hadley, Baroque Flower Indigo Storm Blue, 2020 Image: Weasel gallery Two weeks ago, I exhibited my jewellery for the first time. This was part of the exhibition HANDSHAKE IN HAMILTON at Weasel Gallery. 11 of the...
An exhibition in my living room

An exhibition in my living room

I’ve been lucky to have had plenty of time at the workshop this year. Investigating everyday objects and materials, I have kept the parameters in which I am working broad, allowing my environment and the things within it to direct me.  Walking, noticing, collecting…...
Stitched!

Stitched!

June 2020 Hand, cotton and sunlight!   June 2020 sleeves and buttons A play with pattern. I couldn’t find my hands to create things during lockdown, I could see them but couldn’t use them how I wanted! To get into this work physically I have to have someone to...
We Are Not The Poem

We Are Not The Poem

We Are Not the Poem.   ‘The problem is we think we exist. We think our words are permanent and solid and stamp us forever. That’s not true. We write in the moment. Sometimes when I read poems at a reading to strangers, I realize they think those poems are me....