2017, handwoven silk, cotton, linen

I began this series by noticing the non-places that I found throughout my day: strips of masking tape, the hose on the shower head, the shadows out of the corner of my eye. These were structures that held me up and holes where I fell through. They were tentative, they felt solid and ephemeral, seen and unseen. These non-places were part of my search for the quiet, unnoticed spaces in my day. Noticing is the first step in the process. From there I drew and cut and pasted and painted little things that seemed like nothing. Then I wrote about those things and drew and cut and pasted and painted little things again. It was less about the creation of something than it was about exploring an idea. The process of making these things prepared me for the loom.

Weaving is a pre-planned activity. The precise number of threads must be calculated before you can begin. Then the exact placement and spacing of those threads is chosen. While these two activities are taking place, the threads must be kept under tension. Once the loom is ready spontaneous responses can occur within the pre-planned structure. I look for spontaneity where it seems it cannot exist. Like a plant growing through a sidewalk crack, painting and stitching the woven cloth while it’s on the loom feels like a spontaneous act of resistance. Working within and beyond the woven grid, stitching and painting create movement and energy.

I come to the loom with a plan and then to a certain extent abandon that plan once I sit down. I intuitively respond to my mood, the day, and the fibres. The forms appear and respond to each other as they come into the space on their own.