Labor of Love of Labor

Learning manual processes opens a dialogue with the past and reasserts the value in knowledge that is no longer “necessary” to daily life. I turn to the crafts of the past not to reject technological progress, but to reject the present’s insistence on efficiency and profit. Washing, picking, carding, spinning, and weaving wool all occupy a different time scale from modern life. I savor the sense of connection in that slower time when my hands act as the conduit between past/present and mind/body. These are the moments when I feel most attuned to my body and intentional in my actions. Immersing myself in manual processes is an act of meditation, generation, and catharsis. I also develop an intimate understanding and appreciation for the slowly transforming material which centers me in the physical realm. I use the term “labor” not in relation to economics or difficulty, but more broadly as “productivity”; I am motivated as much by the finished cloth as a sense of peace and satisfaction.


Gridbreaker

For textile artists, pattern feels like the inevitable starting point. Pattern sets the rhythm of every textile process: the order, speed, the flow of movement. In weaving, pattern is both structure and surface. It is integral to the cloth itself. And the pattern that no weaver can escape is the grid, from the humblest plainweave to the most complicated block weave. I design patterns with great care and enthusiasm, but patterns have a fatal flaw: they're boring. The infinite gives way to the predictable, stability to monotony. The irony of the grid is that it expands in all directions, but it limits design. My creative challenge is to discover new possibilities within the fundamental grid as I subvert its authority. I arm myself with glitches, squares made of circles, even camouflage. I blur, bend, dissolve, and obscure the grid, but I recognize that I can never escape it.