My textile art explores silence, memory, and the endurance of women and children affected by the hidden systems of Irish society. I focus on those whose lives were shaped by institutionalisation, shame, and erasure—women in Magdalene Laundries, mothers separated from their children, girls confined to mother and baby homes, and children born into secrecy. My practice exists to honour and hold space for their stories—many of which were never told.
I use thread to draw figures of unnamed children and women—faceless, delicate, yet persistent. Their identities are deliberately left blank: they could be anyone, of any background, colour, or creed. The anonymity honours the many who were never named, never acknowledged, or deliberately erased. My stitches are intentionally loose and tangled, reflecting the fragility of memory, the fragmentation of identity, and the unresolved trauma carried through time. The act of stitching is both meditative and repetitive—echoing the forced, often numbing labour imposed on women in institutions like the Magdalene Laundries. In contrast, my process reclaims this act as one of care, mindfulness, and quiet resistance. Each stitch is a gesture of presence, a record of remembrance, and a space for healing.
Embroidery, long relegated to the domestic sphere, is at the heart of my work. I use it not as embellishment, but as language. Paired with felting, hand beading, and repurposed Irish textiles, embroidery becomes a tactile and emotional tool—capable of holding grief, resilience, and tenderness. I often work with vintage fabrics, worn linens, and Irish wool—materials that carry their own history and memory. These domestic remnants speak of lives lived quietly, often invisibly, within walls that were meant to contain and control.
The Irish landscape also runs through my work—the bogs, farms, and stone boundaries of the west of Ireland echo the women I stitch: shaped by time, layered with meaning, quietly enduring. I draw inspiration from vintage photographs and institutional archives, reimagining what was felt but never spoken. Through my work, I do not attempt to retell these women’s stories, but to create space for reflection, sorrow, and dignity.
My art asks: Who gets remembered? What voices have we ignored? And how can the slowness of a stitch help us listen more deeply?