This piece is inspired by my time in Cornwall and one particular beach at low tide.
I love being by the sea - watching patterns form and disappear, noticing colour changes in the sand and rocks, and collecting small things the tide brings in.
The work is still evolving, shaped by those observations and the materials I’m working with.

The wooden frame for this piece was built by my husband, using 244 nails set in two rows at 1.5 cm intervals to create the structure for the warp. Cotton warp threads were then stretched across the frame, forming the base surface for the textile. Using a projector, I transferred the design onto grey paper to map out the pattern, which was then placed behind the warp so it remains visible through the threads and can guide the weaving process from the back of the textile.

This is where the weaving really begins. With the warp in place and the drawing visible behind it, I started adding the first weft threads, working slowly from the bottom upwards. At this stage I’m feeling my way into the piece — testing density, tension, and how the yarn behaves against the structure. The surface starts to take shape gradually, with small decisions made along the way rather than following a fixed plan. The work is still very open here, growing through touch, repetition, and responding to the material as I go.

While searching for different textures, I started by cutting up an old jumper of mine that was too felted to unravel. I also began making my own chunky yarn by hand. This part of the process is completely new to me, and I’ve been learning as I go, mostly with the help of YouTube. I’m trying to work with what I already have rather than buying large amounts of new materials. Making my own yarn feels important — it allows me to create only what I need, responding directly to the piece as it develops.

This is my yarn set-up. Some of the yarns are bought, some were given to me by friends, some I already had, and some I’ve made myself. I keep even the smallest offcuts - hanging them on a smaller frame - because I don’t want anything to go to waste. To help speed things up a little, I use an affordable electric spinning wheel. During a visit to Poland, I found an old traditional spinning wheel in the basement of my husband’s family home. It needs repairing, and I don’t quite feel ready to take that on yet, which is why I chose the electric one for now. The old wheel is something I keep thinking about though, and I’m sure it will make its way to the UK with us at some point.

As the weaving progresses, the piece starts to gain weight and presence. I build the surface slowly, layer by layer, adjusting density, colour, and tension as I go. Some areas become heavier and more compact, while others stay lighter and more open, responding to the materials and the landscape I’m thinking about. I often stop, step back, and look at the work from a distance before continuing.