In my nan’s sewing box there is so much Bias Binding. There is also elastic, and buttons and old cotton spools of thread, and Ric Rac. There are also inexplicably labels cut from dresses, neatly pinned together.
Unpacking my nan’s sewing box is the process of unpacking what was learnt. A most RADICAL act.
Bias comes in many colours. It is often tucked away. Unseen, but still there.
My nan’s bias is now my bias.
Bias gets tangled up with other things. It must be patiently unravelled. Tidily reshaped into something else.
As with everything I do in my nan’s memory. It must be unpacked with love.