Holding Patterns
Saturday saw the launch of a new body of work, Holding Patterns. It was celebrated with an informal yet light, joy, cake and conversation filled afternoon in the studio.
This celebration came in perfect counterpoint to the production. It’s been a quiet body. A lot of time spent alone in the studio, working slowly, moving between pieces, letting things sit, returning to them. Not really rushing towards anything, more allowing something to build over time.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to hold something. Materials, time, attention. What happens when you stay with something a little longer than usual, especially in a world that moves so quickly through things.
Most of the works are made from salvaged cloth. Pieces that have already lived a life, been worn, used, discarded. There’s something about working with these materials that feels both grounding and open. They carry history, but they also ask to be seen differently.
I found myself returning to simple actions. Cutting, placing, stitching. Letting the structure of the frame hold everything in place. The panels became a kind of container for me. A way to focus, to reduce, to keep coming back to what felt essential.
Over time the work became quieter. More pared back. Less about adding, more about refining. Letting things breathe a bit. Letting the relationships between fragments do the work.
There’s also something in them about exposure. Turning things inside out. Letting seams show. Not trying to resolve everything into something polished, but allowing a bit of rawness to remain. It feels important to me at the moment — to make space for something more honest, less finished.
The title came quite naturally in the end. Holding Patterns. It speaks to the process, but also to a kind of state. Being in something, not rushing through it. Letting it unfold.
As always, the work now moves outwards. Into new spaces, new contexts, new relationships.
Thank you, as always, for holding it with me.
- Leila
