New Work by Mary Sleigh for UNmaking

Making Moth-Eaten

Responding to the brief for an upcoming exhibition is not a straight line for me, but a combination of fragments that gradually come together. Often, the very element that I strive to keep has to be discarded. It was no different when presented with the TSG brief for UNmaking 2.

Recently, I was clearing out an attic and delved into old suitcases which held family possessions long since packed away. I was horrified to find a finely knitted woollen shawl in tatters, having been eaten by moths. It was something I had fondly packed away as a precious reminder of those days of wrapping babies up and tucking them into a cot in the hope they would go to sleep! My instinct was to try and retain something of the shawl in my work. As I was currently using indigo, the shawl was dyed blue and took on another life, but the initial idea never developed further.

Words are a powerful influence; spending time brainstorming brings ideas together and gives me a focus for inspiration. I need to find a personal connection that is meaningful to me—one that is very often related to a place or person. The idea of the shawl was tucked away at the back of my mind, and while mulling over ideas, the word ‘moth-eaten’ popped into my head. It gave me my starting point for developing new work as a perfect example of nature literally unmaking.

On closer inspection, it was the holes in the lacy structure that became the focal point rather than the finely hand-knitted shawl itself. The soft feel of the cloth and its fragmented state could be recorded faithfully by capturing images using cyanotype. These fragmented images gave me the idea of piecing them back together to make a whole again, held together with pieces of torn silk net—tender and fragile, but still a special possession in a different form.

In Conversation with Mary Sleigh

Finding a cherished family memento ruined by moths must have been disappointing at first. How did you move past that initial reaction of loss to see this act of "nature unmaking" as an opportunity for new work?

I felt a real sense of loss, but I knew I wanted to distance myself from those initial feelings of sadness. Rather than dwelling on what was damaged, I began to see an opportunity to salvage something of my memories in a positive way. The moths had altered the fabric in a way I never could have planned, turning a loss into a quiet collaboration with time and nature.

You mentioned that responding to a brief involves discarding elements you originally strived to keep. How did you know it was time to move on from the indigo-dyed shawl itself and focus purely on its holes and lacy structure?

It was a gradual realisation. I eventually reached a point where I didn’t have anything else to say about what I’d already done with the physical shawl, and that realisation freed up my thinking entirely! Once I let go of preserving the object itself, I recognised the holes as the true heart of the piece—they were the physical evidence of 'nature unmaking' at work.

What drew you to using cyanotype specifically to record the delicate, fragmented state of the shawl, and how did combining those prints with torn silk net help bring the piece together?

I’ve always loved the immediacy and graphic quality of the cyanotype image. The deep Prussian blue just felt right for the concept—it carries a quiet, reflective quality that matched the mood of the work. Capturing the shadow-like silhouettes through light allowed me to record the fragile, lace-like structures without damaging them further, while combining those prints with torn silk net gave the piece a soft, fragile texture, echoing the original fabric's decay.

In Unmaking at Goldsmiths, you showed a delicate concertina book. How did your ideas transition from that book structure to the long, vertical format of this current piece?

I’ve always loved the sense of discovery that comes with unfolding a book—revealing an idea page by page. But for this current piece, I felt the work needed a different presence. I wanted it to be seen and experienced all at once as a continuous whole, while still retaining that fragmented, delicate quality. The long vertical format allows the eye to travel through the work naturally, almost like reading a physical drop of history or a vertical timeline.

On the metaphor of repair: Do you see the cyanotypes as a way of repairing the original memory, or is it about creating a completely new story altogether?

I don’t see it as a complete repair or a totally new story, but rather as a visual record of something transformed. The original memory is still very much at the core of the work, but it has evolved into a new material language. It’s an acknowledgment of change—honouring what was lost while creating a lasting mark of its transformation.

Exhibition Details

Experience the full Unmaking exhibition at Stroud's Museum in the Park, featuring a series of workshops led by our featured artists, including Mary. 

• Exhibition: UNmaking
• Dates: 12 September – 8 November 2026
• Location: Museum in the Park, Stroud
• Admission: Free