I am writing this piece from The Hive in Worcester, where I am supposed to be stitching for the week, alongside my Stitching Cromwell exhibition. I say “supposed to be” because so far I have stitched the word “the” and the start of the word “tide”, which isn’t much to show for a day’s work. But I have been busy with other matters: hanging textile pieces and talking to exhibition visitors.
As I write, I can hear the sound of little children singing “round and round and round we go” in unison and harmony - a song they all clearly know but I do not. That’s because The Hive is an incredible public and community space; a joint partnership between the University of Worcester and Worcestershire County Council which combines both the university library and the public library, alongside the careers service, the Register Office, and a splendidly light and airy exhibition space. The staff are lovely, the opening hours are long, there is a very nice cafe, it’s clearly well used - and it gives me hope at a time when libraries are so under threat. This is a place for making life better.
It is a great location for Stitching Cromwell. Dr Lucy Arnold - our leading scholar of Hilary Mantel’s work is based here at the University (we did a joint event at the Tudor House just five minutes away back in 2023); Worcester Cathedral has a Thomas Cromwell Window (which I sponsor in Hilary’s memory); and Prince Arthur Tudor is buried in the Cathedral. I am tickled that the Register Office is within The Hive; in my other life I do some part time work as a marriage registrar; and it was Thomas Cromwell who first introduced records of births, deaths and marriages in 1538 through parish registers.
Seeing the work hanging in this space is interesting - it gives it a whole new look. I haven’t seen the four queens hanging full length before, I haven’t seen the Cromwell portrait hanging full length before. I don’t have the space either at home or in my studio. Now I can see them, I can see that one of them needs more stitches, which is making me think about whether and how we know if something is finished.
There are no endings. If you think so then you are deceived as to their nature. They are all beginnings. Here is one.
Hilary Mantel, Bring Up the Bodies
I am thinking about the endings and beginnings presented by our own physical bodies. Are there not enough stitches because my wrists and elbows were hurting? Because I was tired? How far does the body dictate the artwork? I’m already reworking a bit of my lecture for tomorrow to include some of those thoughts.
But there’s a piece that is definitely its own self, unbound by my physicality and refusing limitation. The Cromwell Textile Cloth is something else. It is definitely finished. I’ve never seen it properly before and I am happy. In 22 years of quilting I have made precisely two pieces with which I am entirely satisfied. Here is one.
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