When the invitation to the Swell Sculpture Festival arrived, I hesitated. Travelling interstate alone with three young children felt like too much, but the curator’s encouragement, “It’s time for you to travel”, made it possible. Looking back, the Yarn also seemed ready to go somewhere new. We spent two weeks on Currumbin Beach while I installed the work.
Over weeks outdoors, the Yarn absorbed the memory of the site: sand, salt and spiders’ webs. Until then I had always undone every knot by hand. But the flight home would not wait, and for the first time I picked up scissors. My hands hesitated, then cut. The red Yarn fell and spread beneath the trees as if it were bleeding. It felt like a release, a letting go of the need to remain unbroken. The neat, serialised line was finally severed.
