On my first visit to the mill many words raced through my head. Words like monumental, preserve, family burden, decay, dust, trapped. Wandering around inside the mill I was struck by the sense of the people who worked the mill and who had left leaving everything in place. How the mill has gone from a centre of a community to becoming an outsider, no longer used, giving itself up to time and decline.
The windows, barred to keep people out, being invaded by ivy and covered with lacy curtains of spiders’ cobwebs. Outside time and weather are also having an affect. The bridge over the mill race is decaying. Weathering in the most beautiful way, leading to magical, crunchy surfaces and lace like edges. My work looks at how nature and time is affecting this manmade structure.