Damien Shamien

October 1, 2023

It’s about my mam’s massively subservient nature, and how she expected the same of me. Her dying words were that I must iron my dad’s clothes nicely. “Make sure yer dad has a nice crease in his pants.” His home is a four-hour journey from mine.

Made at my parents’ house during Lockdown, where I took care of my mother in the final eighteen months of her life. I was unable to return to my husband and children for fear of bringing germs to my mam and dad, who had a stroke the week after my arrival.

I accidentally became their carer. It’s the closest to hell my privileged life has ever taken me. I lost my employment, and my mind, into the bargain.

Rarely leaving the house, I had no art materials. The background is one of my mother’s napkins, and the lettering is cut from my father’s handkerchiefs.

I’m making fun of Damien Hirst’s success, and my lack of it. Inspired by his shark sculpture, ‘The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living’. Mam was in her final weeks of life, lying motionless on a hospital bed at home, where I was nursing her. Her death was imminent and inevitable, but seemed impossible.

I carry the guilt of being relieved when she died.

39. Damien Shamien, 2021

Hand-stitched textile

35 x 35cm unframed

Is This A Landscape?

October 1, 2023

Made at my parents’ house during Lockdown, where I found myself living, in what turned out to be the final year of my mother’s life. She was diagnosed with inoperable cancer, just before the pandemic, so I went up North to see her.

A week after my arrival, Dad had a stroke. I was unable to return home to my husband and children, for fear of bringing germs to my parents. I accidentally became their carer and lived with them for eighteen months, losing my employment and my mind in the process.

Rarely leaving the house, I had no art materials. I used whatever I could find. The background is made from my Dad’s old shirt, which Mam will have washed and ironed hundreds of times, and the trees were cut from prescription bags, of which there were many.

33. Is This A Landscape? 2021*

Hand stitched paper to polycotton shirt

11.5 x 44.5cm unframed, 19 x 52cm framed (by The Framing Room)

* It was made in 2021, but I stitched 2020 by mistake. One of many stitch-related mistakes I was making at the time. My head was all over the place. I decided to leave it.

Better Than Nobody

August 27, 2023

I support Brentford Football Club by mistake.

Several years back, at the dinner table, my husband and son were dominating the conversation with their beloved Reds. For a laugh, my daughter and I offered our bullshit opinions on tactics, and the like. We told them we loved football, they had just assumed we didn’t. Sexist bastards.

When asked who we support, I glanced at a pile of freshly laundered sheets and said ‘Brentford’ (out of date reference) and that we were off to watch a match that very afternoon.

And so we became football supporters, as much as two people who are totally uninterested in football can.

Due to ongoing random questioning about Griffin Park, we have been forced to follow the Bees for real. Turns out we are lucky charms. I kid you not. Since the day we gave them our magical blessing, Brentford FC have risen through the ranks to the Premier League. It’s uncanny.

Or it could be that they are a ruddy excellent team, with brilliant management and a great work ethic.

In the words of Steven Bartlett, ‘Brentford are special. Very, very special. Based on their resources, they are objectively overachieving’.

Steven goes on to ask Ivan Toney, who has played for many teams so can ‘compare and contrast’, what makes Brentford different?

“Everybody just mixes together. You just get your lunch, you just sit down here, and you talk with whoever. Nobody at the club thinks they’re better than nobody. That comes from the manager and his philosophy at the club”.

I recommend listening to the full interview. Especially if you are my old boss.

Steven Bartlett, Diary of a CEO. Interview with Ivan Toney, 19th August 2023.

I Have No Thoughts On This Matter

August 26, 2023

I Have No Thoughts On This Matter, 2020.

Hand-stitched textile.

35cms x 35cms, unframed.

Private Collection.

It’s about ‘good girls’ putting up and shutting up.

‘I have no thoughts on this matter’ was my mantra during 2020. At the age of 53, I had moved back to my childhood home, sharing a bed with my mother, in what turned out to be the final year of her life. I left my husband and kids and went 300 miles north. A place where I am undervalued and underestimated. Everybody else's time is more valuable than my own. It was expected of me, and I did it, losing both my jobs, pretending it didn’t matter.

For the 18 months I was there, hand stitching kept me on the right side of sane.

As always, the materials are recycled.

A friend was binning the tea towel, describing it as embarrassing, the way the middle-classes do.

The orange and blue are my husband’s old clothes.

The blue, a shirt I remember him wearing at my cousin’s wedding. I was a Bo-Peep inspired bridesmaid. The evening cèilidh was a riot. We laughed and danced our socks off, except Mr S, who sat on the side-lines, unable to make a fool of himself.

The orange, boxer shorts I bought on Christmas Eve 1991, from the Next near Charing Cross Station, London.

The red fabric, used for my signature, is an old National Portrait Gallery uniform. I worked there for 12 years. Undervalued and underestimated. The date next to it was cut from Amnesty International Magazine, Issue 206.

I Have No Thoughts On This Matter is now available as a limited edition print. The original was bought by a French woman, which I took as the greatest of compliments.

Photo by Ian Bruton.

Majorca '79

August 1, 2023

Majorca ‘79 was inspired by Man Ray’s portrait of Max Ernst. A photograph (photographer unknown), of me, hand-stitched to a tea towel, is about my reluctance to reconstruct my life after twenty-five years of marriage, but also about my first time abroad at the age of twelve. My nana took me to Majorca, where the photograph was taken. She was drunk every night and a horrible racist.

Majorca ‘79, 2023

Photograph hand-stitched to tea towel

62 x 47 cm, unframed