It’s been a messy year. Somewhat fragmented. But life is like that, isn’t it? There is light and dark, old and new, joy and grief — different moments that all belong together. I think that’s why I’ve always loved art as a vehicle for storytelling. It doesn’t edit life into neatness; it gathers the pieces, gives them shape, and reminds us that meaning often lives in the whole, not the perfect. It’s a universal form of expression: we can bond with symbols, colour and texture regardless of our background or mindset. And even if you didn’t make it, you still complete a work of art by interpreting it. Your perspective becomes a thread in the narrative.

One art form I’ve always been drawn to is tapestry. I admire the way it’s built — stitch by stitch. Up close, you notice the threads, knots and tiny decisions; step back, and it becomes one picture. It’s physical proof that many parts can become one thing, whether that’s a life, a family, a community, or a company. I also love the process itself. It’s precise, technical, almost mathematical, yet the result is expressive and emotional. That pairing of craft and creativity is, to me, a kind of magic.

One of my absolute favourite examples of this artform is Tapestry for the Millennium, a project run through the 1990s by Diana England. Her vision was to create large textile pieces depicting the social and economic history of Tower Hamlets, made by the people who lived there. Individuals who might never otherwise have met were brought together, and a community was created where they could learn to sew, share stories, and contribute to something bigger than themselves.

By completion in 2000, 43 artists had helped produce 50 large tapestries, and over 3,000 people across Tower Hamlets had participated in the project. I was incredibly privileged to see the final pieces in person at an exhibition managed by my husband and fellow Broadsword Director, Matt (this was one of his first roles in community events).

We finish 2025 with our Broadsword tapestry intact. It’s not perfect, and I’m not perfect; there will always be loose ends to tidy, stitches that come undone and need mending. But like a tapestry, we are built to last. We carry our history, memories and identity across time. We blend discipline with imagination. And our individual threads of work, effort, creativity and care are woven together into something far stronger – and far more meaningful – than any one of us could create alone.

As we step into the Christmas break, I would like to thank you for every stitch you’ve added this year. Wishing you warmth, rest and joy over the festive season, and a New Year full of fresh colour, new threads, and renewed possibility.

Photo taken at Broadsword’s annual Christmas volunteering for the Children’s Book Project.