Hagstone

I found this work of art within the Hepworth gallery and it stopped me in my tracks. It was at once abstract and yet so recognisable. I loved the natural tones within the vegetation dye used to soften and deepen the layers of calico. There was a feminine feeling of rumpled skirts, a discarded dress that had been trampled and flung into the soil. Did this garment harbour secrets? Did the stitches whisper stories when you turned away? I imagine a narrative in my own way and it reminds me of a scene in Lorca’s play ‘The House of Bernarda Alba’ where a local woman is mentioned in hushed tones who cavorted at night time under the stars with male revellers. ‘He played her like a guitar’ one character spits in disgust but I imagine it’s out of jealousy. These fabrics reminded me of the skirts that rebellious woman would have looked and been trampled by in the morning