In 2002, I fell through a trapdoor. Head injury, spinal injury, broken sacrum, broken ribs – parts of me, both solid and ephemeral, were broken or lost. My body healed faster than my psyche. One day, I picked up some yarn and began to crochet myself a new spine. When I finished the spine, I began to crochet myself a new skull.

I wanted to knit myself back together. If the reparative material was soft then the representational object couldn’t be damaged. I would be safe… protected.

As each head emerged, the healing shifted from the physical to the psychological in layers of crocheted and sewn yarn with altered books, false teeth and pearls, embedded with personal objects. I crocheted a new brain, but it rattles.