A visual diary of return – walking the lands of my Irish ancestors, stitching family history into cloth, & gathering stories across Ireland, Northern Ireland, & Wales. From storm-lashed cliffs & ancient ruins to quiet moments of handcraft & unexpected human connection, this journey became a weaving of past, present, & becoming.
I spent my Easter break walking the lands of my maternal ancestors.
What began as a short escape turned into something far deeper – a pilgrimage across Ireland, Northern Ireland, & Wales, stitched together with memory, history, weather, & thread.
My mother spent years researching our family lineage. I had brushed against it before, passing through Scottish border towns on my way to Edinburgh last year, but I hadn’t realised something profound – no one in our family had returned to Ireland since my great-great grandparents left after the Irish Famine in the mid-1800s.
So this wasn’t just travel. This was return.
Stories That Shape Us
I carried my Pop with me the entire way.
He was a master storyteller, the kind who didn’t just tell history, but made you feel it. His stories of Ireland were filled with pride, resilience, & fire. As a kid navigating racist bullying tied to my Sicilian heritage, those stories grounded me. They gave me identity. Strength. Context.
Walking Ireland, I could feel the roots of those stories under my feet.
Making as Remembering
I brought my university embroidery project with me, a scarf rooted in family history, developed in collaboration with my youngest sister in Tasmania. There was something deeply powerful about stitching while moving through ancestral land. Each thread felt like a quiet act of reconnection. Each stitch, a grounding.
Craft became more than process – it became presence.
The Wild Atlantic Reality Check
From Dublin I travelled through many counties, those of my ancestors had special significance – Meath, Kildare, Clare, & finally into Galway where Ireland decided to test me properly. The Cliffs of Moher didn’t welcome me gently. They hit with torrential rain & gale-force winds strong enough to knock people off their feet. The Wild Atlantic Way isn’t poetic branding – it’s a warning.
Yet, the Irish move through it like it’s nothing.
It made me think about life before modern comfort, the resilience required just to exist here. The land demands it. Then, just as quickly, the storm disappeared. By the time I reached Galway, the sun was out – like nothing had happened.
Crossing to Wales – Craft as Connection
Thanks to my current UK travel registration I took a ferry to Wales. I embroidered the entire journey & something unexpected happened.
People started approaching me, men & women, drawn to the act of handcrafting. Conversations unfolded effortlessly. Stories of mothers, grandmothers, personal practices. One woman showed me her daily embroidery piece, a tea towel-sized cloth where she stitches one square per day. A visual journal. A quiet ritual of reflection.
Another woman walked beside me as I disembarked. We spoke about the deeper power of craft, not just skill, but what it gives you – patience, space, processing without force, problem-solving in motion. It’s not about making something perfect. It’s about becoming someone steady.
Wales – Generosity & Grit
Wales gave me one of the most unexpectedly rich experiences of the trip. At the Maritime Museum, I was given a private four-hour tour by a guide whose generosity & knowledge turned history into something alive.
At a seaside hotel, I met a woman with a personality so vibrant it filled the entire space – warmth, humour, honesty. Through her & others, I heard real conversations about declining living standards, shifting identities, & the reality of life beyond tourist narratives.
There’s no filter there. Just truth.
Back to Ireland – Searching for Names
Returning to Ireland, I made my way to Tipperary & the Rock of Cashel.
I walked through the cemetery searching for names – Fitzgerald, Mescal, McNamara, Barnes. Looking for echoes. Proof. Threads.
On the way to Cork, my embroidery needle broke. I bought a new one. For me, that moment became symbolic – you can always begin again. Even after rupture. Even after loss.
Northbound – Beauty & Division
I travelled north toward Belfast, stopping at Dunluce Castle & the Giant’s Causeway – where Scotland sits just 12 miles across the water. Then came Belfast & the weight of history.
It was the 28th anniversary of the Good Friday Agreement, & the city still holds visible scars – the rebuilt Ballroom wall after an IRA bombing, the Europa Hotel where the car lodged itself after the blast, the peace wall, still locked each night, flags marking identity, allegiance, division.
Hearing firsthand accounts from a local guide made it real in a way books never could. Then just metres away stands the Statue of Hope, called ‘Nula with the Hula’ by the locals.
Lightness beside heaviness. That contrast defines the place.
Softening Again – Kilkenny to Wicklow
After Belfast, I needed grounding. Kilkenny delivered – medieval streets, slower pace, a sense of breath returning. Glendalough & the Wicklow Mountains reminded me why Ireland is described as 50 shades of green. It’s not exaggeration. It’s understatement.
Then the highlight – A sheep farm. A working dog named Rob & a two-day-old lamb in my arms. Pure joy.
Dublin – Music, Craft & Museums
Back in Dublin, another storm rolled in. I found shelter at The Cobblestone – packed, loud, alive with traditional Irish music & Guinness-fuelled warmth.
I explored the National Gallery, the Photographic Gallery, smaller independent spaces & dove into Aran knitwear, learning more in shops & mills than I ever have in class. Nothing replaces real-world immersion. One handmade costume shop stood out – completely aligned with my practice. Raw, expressive, unapologetic. Fuel for future work.
Materials & Meaning
At the National Museum, I stumbled across something that genuinely excited me – Biodegradable gloves made from mollusc thread. Material innovation rooted in nature – exactly the direction I’m moving toward. I also studied military garments – structure, fastening systems, finishing. Quiet research moments that feed into everything I design.
The final exhibition space, filled with vibrant stained glass, offered something rare. A place to sit. To absorb. To feel. After rooms filled with stories of oppression & survival, it mattered.
The People
If there’s one thing that stands above everything else, the Irish & Welsh people are among the warmest, most open, & genuinely engaging humans I’ve encountered. No performance. No pretence. Just connection.
Return to Barcelona – A Reality Check
Back in Barcelona, I met up with friends arriving from Paris & stepped into ‘tour guide’ mode. Then – snap back to reality.
At the port, mid-conversation about pickpockets, a man stepped directly into my path & tried to rip my phone from my hands. Wrong person. I locked my grip. He pulled. Failed. Ran. I didn’t chase him. He slowed – ready to try again elsewhere. Lesson reinforced – Awareness matters. Especially when distracted. I feel safe in Barcelona – but I stay switched on.
What This Journey Gave Me
This wasn’t just a trip.
It was reconnection to lineage, confirmation of resilience, creative grounding through making, a reminder that craft is language, memory, & survival, proof that beginning again is always possible, & maybe most importantly – A deep, embodied understanding that where you come from doesn’t define you – but it does strengthen you when you choose to walk back toward it.
If this story resonates with you, there’s more to come. I share ongoing reflections from my creative practice, travels, & transdisciplinary work across fashion, material exploration, & storytelling.
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Let’s keep the conversation, & the making, alive.
Larissa Sarina BAGLIERI 