I use the traditional crafts of weaving and stitching to sculpt. There is harmony and structure within the chaos of my threads—but I am pushing this harmony to the edges. Less beauty/more bewilderment/embrace the unseemly are my commands. I am interjecting the chaos, the insanity and the frailty of what is life right now into the soothing rhythms of handwork. I thoroughly mix the sacred with the profane.
Let the weaving and stitching be the sacred; the tradition, the rhythm, the craft and know-how passed from generations. Let it create the cloth that covers, protects, seduces and honors. Let it be the value, the commodity it has always been. It is fashion, it is couture and it is handmade. But let how it functions, how it interacts within a space, how it fractures–be the profane.
I do not finish the stitches; I do not bind the materials so that they may hold their structure. I hunt for cast-off materials at job lots. They are loud, ridiculous, and too tacky for the home hobbyists to take home and be made into their domestic and wearable fashions. These are the materials I relish.
I make hundreds and hundreds of intersections and textile connections come together and sing; but the tune is not a hymn–hopefully someday it will reach a fever pitch and authenticity, something like Nina Simone‘s deep, dark, gravelly soulful voice as she calls to a man that she knows she has power over. Let the work be deep, dark, dirty and gritty. I am not looking to create a spectacle for fun or frivolity. This is serious business for me. This is crafting a new fabric in a new manner that is complicated–as complicated and fragile as our contemporary moments.
To make plastic art
Redefine plastic art
To make you love plastic art
To challenge and bewitch you with what you think is formal or plastic
To make you bow to her craft
To weave your mind
To weave your mind into confusion
To drag you into the sacred without your consent