I don’t know if my ancestors ever made blankets this way. All I know is that I felt a deep desire to make one myself. I wanted to entangle my aliveness and my knowing in colours and textures which make things more beautiful than they need to be, just like our great grandmothers did.

Originating withn ourselves, we can experience aliveness like a fountain, the most powerful and tender thread which streams through our entire world. Following it, I discovered a powerful aliveness in grief, care and effort. I experienced my heart breaking and opened my eyes to a new, vibrant landscape.

Grief consumes all that whose time has come to change shapes. Just like fungi, bacteria and other inhabitants of soil turn dead matter into food, so can grief be an agent of decay which will transform all with which we wish to or we have to part. It will swallow it, digest it and turn it into food for resurgence.

Maybe wool blankets will become a relic. The planet is heating, and the peace and safety essential to rest will become, in the best case, a rarity, and in the worst - a privilege.  

Rest is a counterweight to the arrogant belief that we can and should try to outwit nature. To rest is to admit to having no control. The author Sophie Strand says that decomposition playfully winks at humanity’s attempts for control.

I wish to part with all the oppression and control that I have swallowed, packaged as care. I want to allow all bits and bobs to roll off and be swallowed by time.