I source raw materials from my domestic and rural surroundings – familiar things, objects that touch our bodies every day. These objects tend to be silent, existing in the background as accessories to living, but they are latent with personal and cultural meaning.
Domestic textiles and practical textile work are historically taken for granted, ignored, or burdened by romantic notions of feminine industry. I am drawn to this work as a meditative practice and as a way to examine the contradictory and unresolved feelings I have about my ‘inheritance’ of femininity and women’s labor. Handwork, like sewing, spinning, mending, and weaving, dictate a slow and repetitive pace of work, what some might call drudgery, but I want to resist contemporary notions of productivity, efficiency, and value.
Textile work is physical labor that occurs in an intimate space – in your lap, eighteen inches from your face. My shoulders ache, my hands cramp, my body hurts, but I stubbornly continue, sometimes driven by a feeling of desperation. At other times, working with my hands offers an intense feeling of interconnection with my surroundings. Either experience is generative, and through this process, the objects become physical metaphors for the uncertainty, vulnerability, and sensitivity I feel.