Ella Jackson

Capitalist Guilt

I find a moment of catharsis as my scissors slide through leather. The more cuts the better. As I cut through scraps and jigsaw them together, I slip into a zen state which allows me to channel all my wayward emotions into something greater than me, the birth of a piece of art which creates meaning and a new body for my hurt. For my frailty, for my happiness, for my giddy excitement. For whatever colour I feel at the time. Sometimes this meaning is esoteric even to myself, and I find myself studying the fragments of leather, held together with strong metal links and hand painted clumsily. I try to find hidden messages that I have sent myself, little scraps of information concealed within the scraps. I always end up back at the same place though – bewildered by what has just come out of me and why.