Statement (May 2026)
Working at the intersection of installation, narrative and embodied experience, my artwork explores how fear becomes spatialised and internalised. My practice is rooted in historical research, with a particular focus on the Scottish witch trials of the 16th and 17th centuries. This research provides a framework through which I examine contemporary structures of gender, sexuality and control, while also examining how domestic space can shift from a site of care to one of suspicion, where everyday objects take on new, unsettling meanings.
By reclaiming and reconfiguring visual languages of historical maltreatment, I consider how narratives of accusation are constructed and sustained. I aim to create environments that are both familiar and eerie, encouraging audiences to engage with the persistence of moral panic and collective anxiety.
While exploring historical research, the importance of the archive has taken a more prominent role in my artwork. Ideas that the archive being a ‘means by which historical knowledge and forms of remembrance are accumulated, stored and recovered’ was particularly significant to me.[1] Hal Foster discusses how artists can act as archivists themselves; explaining how artists, such as Tactia Dean, ‘intervention in the archive is a gesture of alternative knowledge or counter memory.’[2]
My research through Studio 4 has been more specific, using case studies of individual witch trials to inform my artwork, specifically the case of Isobel Gowdie influencing The Witch of Auldearn (January 2026) and the Bamberg Witch Trials, specifically the construction of the Malefizhuas, which informed Malefizhaus Sweet Malefizhaus.[3] I made a decision to explore my own personal connection to these cases. Through the University of Edinburgh, I was able to access the Survey of Scottish Witchcraft, a database that ‘contains all people known to have been accused of witchcraft in early modern Scotland.’[4] This allowed me to discover three women who were persecuted of witchcraft, who share my last name: Janet Taylor (Stirling, 1634), Mariore Taylor (Auldearn, 1662) and Katherine Taylor (Stromness, 1708).
The Name Remains (April 2026) focuses on these women, and their link to my family. Combining photos of my grandparents, and great grandparents (on the Taylor side) with the names of the ‘Taylor Witches’, allowed me to explore the idea that my relationship to the people in the photos felt almost on par with my emotional connection to the women who had lost their lives due their witchcraft accusations. Visually I was influenced by the idea that family photos are like a personal archive, creating a strange merge between personal memory and historical record.
My use of crochet draws on traditionally gendered forms of labour. The repetitiveness of the making feels very connected to the work. The textile works of Magdalena Abakanowicz especially stood out to me, both visually and conceptually. The artist explores the ‘rebellious use of craft’ astral as the ‘tactile memory of roughness, temperature and emotions.’[5] The idea of reclaiming traditionally ‘feminine’ crafts feels important in my practice, allowing it to honour the sense of connection and community surrounding women and craft.
The written word has been significant in my practice, as a way of acknowledging information discovered through my research, exemplified through my tapestries. The historical impact of the printing press has also influenced my way of making, using zines, such as Malefizhaus Sweet Malefizhaus (February 2026), as a means of spreading awareness, rather than to cause mass hysteria.
Film has continued to be a core element of my practice. Continuing to take visual inspiration from older films, such as Ingmar Bergman’s The Silence (1963), I have also explored more contemporary approaches to silent film. While at the New Contemporaries exhibition at the South London Gallery, I discovered the work of Viviana Almas. The artist’s films, such as Souls (2024), focuses on ‘desolate environments’ that allow her to ‘find ways to preserve the past.’[6] This idea inspired The Witch of Auldearn (January 2026), which uses footage I took of sites of Witch persecution while on a research trip in the Scottish Highlands. I was fascinated by how much can be said through purely imagery, rather than dialogue or actors.
Working at the intersection of installation, narrative and embodied experience, my artwork explores how fear becomes spatialised and internalised. My practice is rooted in historical research, with a particular focus on the Scottish witch trials of the 16th and 17th centuries. This research provides a framework through which I examine contemporary structures of gender, sexuality and control, while also examining how domestic space can shift from a site of care to one of suspicion, where everyday objects take on new, unsettling meanings.
By reclaiming and reconfiguring visual languages of historical maltreatment, I consider how narratives of accusation are constructed and sustained. I aim to create environments that are both familiar and eerie, encouraging audiences to engage with the persistence of moral panic and collective anxiety.
While exploring historical research, the importance of the archive has taken a more prominent role in my artwork. Ideas that the archive being a ‘means by which historical knowledge and forms of remembrance are accumulated, stored and recovered’ was particularly significant to me.[1] Hal Foster discusses how artists can act as archivists themselves; explaining how artists, such as Tactia Dean, ‘intervention in the archive is a gesture of alternative knowledge or counter memory.’[2]
My research through Studio 4 has been more specific, using case studies of individual witch trials to inform my artwork, specifically the case of Isobel Gowdie influencing The Witch of Auldearn (January 2026) and the Bamberg Witch Trials, specifically the construction of the Malefizhuas, which informed Malefizhaus Sweet Malefizhaus.[3] I made a decision to explore my own personal connection to these cases. Through the University of Edinburgh, I was able to access the Survey of Scottish Witchcraft, a database that ‘contains all people known to have been accused of witchcraft in early modern Scotland.’[4] This allowed me to discover three women who were persecuted of witchcraft, who share my last name: Janet Taylor (Stirling, 1634), Mariore Taylor (Auldearn, 1662) and Katherine Taylor (Stromness, 1708).
The Name Remains (April 2026) focuses on these women, and their link to my family. Combining photos of my grandparents, and great grandparents (on the Taylor side) with the names of the ‘Taylor Witches’, allowed me to explore the idea that my relationship to the people in the photos felt almost on par with my emotional connection to the women who had lost their lives due their witchcraft accusations. Visually I was influenced by the idea that family photos are like a personal archive, creating a strange merge between personal memory and historical record.
My use of crochet draws on traditionally gendered forms of labour. The repetitiveness of the making feels very connected to the work. The textile works of Magdalena Abakanowicz especially stood out to me, both visually and conceptually. The artist explores the ‘rebellious use of craft’ astral as the ‘tactile memory of roughness, temperature and emotions.’[5] The idea of reclaiming traditionally ‘feminine’ crafts feels important in my practice, allowing it to honour the sense of connection and community surrounding women and craft.
The written word has been significant in my practice, as a way of acknowledging information discovered through my research, exemplified through my tapestries. The historical impact of the printing press has also influenced my way of making, using zines, such as Malefizhaus Sweet Malefizhaus (February 2026), as a means of spreading awareness, rather than to cause mass hysteria.
Film has continued to be a core element of my practice. Continuing to take visual inspiration from older films, such as Ingmar Bergman’s The Silence (1963), I have also explored more contemporary approaches to silent film. While at the New Contemporaries exhibition at the South London Gallery, I discovered the work of Viviana Almas. The artist’s films, such as Souls (2024), focuses on ‘desolate environments’ that allow her to ‘find ways to preserve the past.’[6] This idea inspired The Witch of Auldearn (January 2026), which uses footage I took of sites of Witch persecution while on a research trip in the Scottish Highlands. I was fascinated by how much can be said through purely imagery, rather than dialogue or actors.
[1]Merewether, Charles, ed. 2006. The Archive: Whitechapel Documents of Contemporary Art. London: Whitechapel Gallery. p 10
[2]Merewether, Charles, ed. 2006. The Archive: Whitechapel Documents of Contemporary Art. London: Whitechapel Gallery. p 14
[3]Weinreich, Spencer J. 2023. “Why Early Modern Mass Incarceration Matters: The Bamberg Malefizhaus, 1627–31.” Journal of Social History 56 (4). https://doi.org/10.1093/jsh/shac066
[4]Goodare, Julian, Louise Yeoman, Lauren Martin, and Joyce Miller. 2010. “Survey of Scottish Witchcraft, 1563 - 1736.” Witches.hca.ed.ac.uk. August 18, 2010. https://doi.org/10.7488/ds/100.
[5]Tate. n.d. “Vital Threads – Tate Etc.” Tate. https://www.tate.org.uk/tate-etc/issue-57-spring-2023/vital-threads.
[6] “Viviana Almas | New Contemporaries.” 2026. Newcontemporaries.org.uk. January 30, 2026. https://www.newcontemporaries.org.uk/artists/viviana-almas.
Bibliography
Goodare, Julian, Louise Yeoman, Lauren Martin, and Joyce Miller. 2010. “Survey of Scottish Witchcraft, 1563 - 1736.” Witches.hca.ed.ac.uk. August 18, 2010. https://doi.org/10.7488/ds/100.
Tate. n.d. “Vital Threads – Tate Etc.” Tate. https://www.tate.org.uk/tate-etc/issue-57-spring-2023/vital-threads.
Merewether, Charles, ed. 2006. The Archive: Whitechapel Documents of Contemporary Art. London: Whitechapel Gallery. Pp 10-14.
“Viviana Almas | New Contemporaries.” 2026. Newcontemporaries.org.uk. January 30, 2026. https://www.newcontemporaries.org.uk/artists/viviana-almas.
Weinreich, Spencer J. 2023. “Why Early Modern Mass Incarceration Matters: The Bamberg Malefizhaus, 1627–31.” Journal of Social History 56 (4). https://doi.org/10.1093/jsh/shac066