The designs for these shawls were inspired by a woven metal window grille seen in Spain. This strong and substantial architectural structure shielded the interior domestic space from the exterior public one and deflected the harsh rays of the Spanish sun. The grille divided public and private space, yet still allowed light to pass through.
For thousands of years textiles were symbols of power, defining the wealth and status of world economies. Laboriously crafted from the raw materials in domestic and public spheres by both genders, they were sacrificed to the Gods, substituted for written language, traded for military favours, appeased the newly conquered and accompanied the deceased to the afterlife.
In the 18th century the Industrial Revolution excised the traditions of the handmade and severed the connection between textiles and the public knowledge of their processes. Because the making of commercial textiles is now unseen, unknown and consequently unconsidered, handmade textiles are often the only reference the public has to the discipline. In recent decades, exceptional levels of skill and innovation have increased the visibility of these works yet they have continued to be assigned to the pejorative role of ‘women’s work’; a term that suggests domestic tasks associated solely with women, disregarded and unworthy of financial recompense.
These designs were first constructed in different papers, weaving each hand cut shaped strand into a larger structure. The mirror silver structure is a metre in length; in essence that design is a self-portrait, fragmenting my reflection as I photographed the surface. Drawings of these structures helped to resolve the backgrounds. The photographs were then digitally constructed into the designs: hard and soft surfaces juxtapose in the final works.
Textiles are my way of engaging with the world and contributing to it; like the Spanish window grille, they provide me with an interface between the external and internal. Printed onto silk, one of the world’s most ancient fibres long associated with military defence, they are both a deflection and a protection, an armour, that allow me to continue the creative process despite the persistent lack of understanding that surrounds my discipline and its history.
For thousands of years textiles were symbols of power, defining the wealth and status of world economies. Laboriously crafted from the raw materials in domestic and public spheres by both genders, they were sacrificed to the Gods, substituted for written language, traded for military favours, appeased the newly conquered and accompanied the deceased to the afterlife.
In the 18th century the Industrial Revolution excised the traditions of the handmade and severed the connection between textiles and the public knowledge of their processes. Because the making of commercial textiles is now unseen, unknown and consequently unconsidered, handmade textiles are often the only reference the public has to the discipline. In recent decades, exceptional levels of skill and innovation have increased the visibility of these works yet they have continued to be assigned to the pejorative role of ‘women’s work’; a term that suggests domestic tasks associated solely with women, disregarded and unworthy of financial recompense.
These designs were first constructed in different papers, weaving each hand cut shaped strand into a larger structure. The mirror silver structure is a metre in length; in essence that design is a self-portrait, fragmenting my reflection as I photographed the surface. Drawings of these structures helped to resolve the backgrounds. The photographs were then digitally constructed into the designs: hard and soft surfaces juxtapose in the final works.
Textiles are my way of engaging with the world and contributing to it; like the Spanish window grille, they provide me with an interface between the external and internal. Printed onto silk, one of the world’s most ancient fibres long associated with military defence, they are both a deflection and a protection, an armour, that allow me to continue the creative process despite the persistent lack of understanding that surrounds my discipline and its history.