Weaving & Fiber Art
I find a lot of relief in soft sculpture, particularly weaving. It’s something I’ve grown very fond of in the past few years, because of how free it feels to create narratives and abstract imagery that I can’t replicate in illustration. I can work for hours at a loom, getting lost in the rhythmic, meditative motion and soft textures and colors.
"I Wish I Knew Your Name Under Better Circumstances (And The Pinhole Captures All Of You)", 2024. Wood, nails, yarn, ribbon, donated special items and trinkets from transgender peers. 321 transgender people were murdered in 2023. 469 incidents were recorded of hate crimes towards an individual who is transgender or gender non-conforming. This is beyond terrifying to confront. Who do I know who could become part of this number? It is horrific to know that so many people have fallen into this category – a number, a tally of a life taken. It leaves me with a hole in my chest. Who were you? What did you do? What did you love? I asked my transgender and gender non-conforming peers, “How do you want to be remembered when you die?”, and read their emotional responses aloud. I asked for any special object they wanted to donate to this piece, as well as coming to my studio, and weaving squares and columns onto the piece itself. It becomes a map, one of the conversations and the time spent with everyone who collaborated, their joy in life, and a way to pay respects to those that came before us. Everyone who added even the smallest contribution to this piece is alive, and I will remember them, and that is all I need.
"I Wish I Knew Your Name Under Better Circumstances (And The Pinhole Captures All Of You)", 2024. Wood, nails, yarn, ribbon, donated special items and trinkets from transgender peers.
"I Wish I Knew Your Name Under Better Circumstances (And The Pinhole Captures All Of You)", 2024. Wood, nails, yarn, ribbon, donated special items and trinkets from transgender peers.
"Yes, It Actually Works," 2024. iPhone chargers, ethernet cables, electrical wiring, car chargers, found wooden chair, plastic wall mount. What do you mean "it works"? It's a chair, covered in wires. It has no function, yet it takes up space. It is visually absorbed, and it is physically touched. "Yes, It Actually Works," asks itself two questions: "What am I?" and "Does it matter?"
"Yes, It Actually Works," 2024. iPhone chargers, ethernet cables, electrical wiring, car chargers, found wooden chair, plastic wall mount.
"Floating Feeling", 2024. Yarn, steel rods.
"Floating Feeling", 2024. Yarn, steel rods.
"Mallory's Fire," 2023. Yarn, rope, wooden dowel. 25ft x 8ft. This piece was an exercise in taking up space. I became fascinated with how a loom functions as a tool, and what its limits are. I wanted to create something massive, bigger than the loom itself, escaping the border of the beater. I created Mallory's Fire, a hanging collection of waves of red and gold fire, burning through the wall, moving in the air around it.
"Mallory's Fire," 2023. Yarn, rope, wooden dowel. 25ft x 8ft.
"Mallory's Fire," 2023. Yarn, rope, wooden dowel. 25ft x 8ft.
"Mallory's Fire," 2023. Yarn, rope, wooden dowel. 25ft x 8ft.
"Seafoam Embrace," 2023. Yarn, chicken wire. Seafoam Embrace is comprised of four pieces; the two larger swaths of soft and foamy textile, and the smaller, thinner waves that dance above them. Working with this piece was like swimming, I moved back and forth across the loom, up and down, stacking up as much yarn as I could, to get the wave effect I achieved. I purposefully worked quickly, and did not unravel the finished work as I went, so the final product's shape would be a surprise.
"Seafoam Embrace," 2023. Yarn, chicken wire.
"Seafoam Embrace," 2023. Yarn, chicken wire.
"Untitled #1 (Shroud Collection)," 2024. Yarn.
"Untitled #2 (Shroud Collection)," 2024. Yarn
"The Salmon," 2024. Yarn
"Tract," 2023. Yarn. 30ft (extended). Tract is a long, very thin piece of woven art, made to be shaped in many different forms. I chose deep reds and bone white to represent blood and tissue, as Tract slowly became an intestinal piece. In this image, I arranged it to feel cramped, and threaded it through itself for tension.
"Tract," 2023. Yarn. 30ft (extended). Work in progress shot, before weaving the individual strands together.
"Tract," 2023. Yarn. 30ft (extended). Another arrangement of Tract in an exhibition.
"Blue Thing / Red Rug / Wine Dish," 2022. Yarn, rope, wire. This coiling collection is about my childhood home. The "Blue Thing" is modeled after a large cabinet that sat next to the garage door, my mom painted it a brilliant shade of blue, and it became a sort of "launchpad" for the house. We had many nicknames for it, but "Blue Thing" was my favorite. On that Blue Thing sat a silver wine dish, with spiral patterns decorating it. Lastly, in the next room over, a large red oriental rug traveled with my parents from one of their first homes. All of these items were very important to me regarding the aesthetic of our house, and once we moved, these items came with us, but their energy wasn't the same. Through coiling, I wanted to protect the nature of how I saw them in the old house, as now, through different time and space, they seem abstracted to me.
"Blue Thing / Red Rug / Wine Dish," 2022. Yarn, rope, wire.
"Blue Thing / Red Rug / Wine Dish," 2022. Yarn, rope, wire.