The starting point for the work I am creating for my final major project, is a poem.

The poem is titled "Foxglove" and goes like this-

How are you Foxglove-

I hear you’re married now.

And sometimes stitch but never draw no more.

Someone told me- just a whisper-

That you miss the jazz filled nights,

And never sing the blues outside Jay's front door.

Does your belly ache for baby?

Does camomile calm your nerves?

Does the gin still cling when you scratch your skin?

Can you fit into that sequinned dress?

Are things different now- Foxglove?

Do the crows fly closer than before?

Do the seasons ever heat the earth in Springtime?

Are you heavy on the ground.

 This poem, in my mind is set in the past, probably the 1920s or 30s, and tells the story of a woman who once led a wild life. She gets married, settles down, but something is not quite right. I hope the poem has a sinister tone, from an all knowing observer, perhaps someone from her past. This is the inspiration of my installation, which contains strangeness surrounding domestic objects and also a hint of glamour. A flashback to her old life. 

The flower, Foxglove, is a pretty, but poisonous flower, and I hope this hints at an aspect of this woman's personality.