FROM THE SHEARING SHED
My mother is leaving, she has terminal cancer. The saddest part is you suddenly realise that your connection to your distant childhood past is going with her. Who will you talk to about stories from so long ago. The night she gathered up the autumn oak leaves from the road in the car headlights, the air bitter and cold. They magically became a fancy dress piece titled "Autumn" for my school presentation evening. She has forgotten it now, I tried to tell her the other day it is one of my favourite childhood memories.
I have been working with rusting fabrics and making wall quilts. My childhood was spent in the country around Armidale and I used to spend hours in my grandfather's wool shed, I can still see the sunlight on the floor there. The rusted quilts are all created with my memory of shed walls and rusting tractors and tin rooves.
So today I am putting this piece up in honour of my mum. She may have forgotten a lot now but I will always remember. She is leaving in the Autumn, how odd that I have a favourite memory from that time.