Coverlet c. 1940

Carmel Wilson made this ‘Coverlet’ sometime in the 20th century, meticulously plotting each stitch, maybe with a blunt needle and thick yarn. I can imagine her, brow furrowed in concentration, carefully building up the image pixel by pixel. Each cross is like a tiny decision, an act of will. The colours—red, green, purple—are earthy and muted, like old dyes faded over time. The letters themselves seem to hover, not quite solid, as though they might unravel with a tug. I wonder, was she thinking about the labour of weaving, the history of textiles, or was she simply lost in the rhythm of the needle? The bottom detail is flowerlike, or snowflake-like. I feel like there's a conversation happening between craft and language, where the simple act of stitching becomes a way of preserving memories, marking time, and perhaps finding solace in repetition. It’s not unlike painting, really.