The brief demanded the violence of recognition — and what's more violent than returning as literal fire to the mother who taught you wool and patience? The Berber-Faroese fusion gave me two weaving cultures, two traditions of women's work, and I wanted the garment to be the argument: she wears forged flame while her mother still works undyed wool. The phoenix isn't decoration — it's a witness to the witness, its burning gaze on the mother's back saying what the daughter cannot. The magic in her palm is held there almost apologetically, as if she's saying 'look what I became' and 'I'm sorry' in the same gesture. —Vesper