“But they’re all these hundreds of ways that we know things, through our skin, which is the largest organ of our body. And, so, you know, my first hand is that textile hand, and text and textiles are woven always, experientially for me. And then, I think that when I first started making things out of cloth, it was like it was another skin. So I was thinking about it as an animate surface, and thinking about it as something that both covers and reveals.” Ann Hamilton

Textiles have a way of capturing our impression unlike any other material. Like water, they bend and move with the flexibility, or inflexibility, of our bodies. Unlike water, they push back, support and soak up pieces of us that have been left behind. 

I haven’t always been a fiber fanatic. In my earliest memories of making, I have crayons, construction paper and Crayola markers in hand. And I played video games just about as often as I drew. However, as I got older, the pull of textiles became deeper and increasingly complex. 

Additionally while growing up, I was often surrounded by music. Whether by my Mom’s vinyl records or my brother at the piano, there was always some form of music in the house. Around age nine, I was encouraged to learn an instrument and I chose the harp. Perhaps, I was enamored by its size, impressive and unique look, and association with the otherworldly …  Or maybe it was just really pretty to look at.   

Concurrently during this period, my parents were going through a divorce. At the time, as any nine-year-old, I did not fully understand what was happening. All I knew is it was not a good thing (at least, it didn’t seem so in the moment). I like to think that music and making were my solace through a difficult time. 

As I learned to play the harp, all the while continuing to draw and make things, I learned how to knit when I attended harp camp in the summers. At first, I was not very good at knitting. I remember my first scarf starting about half the width it ended up becoming. Around the same age, I also learned (very briefly) how to embroider via my fourth grade teacher. I distinctly remember using a very thin piece of cloth that was my grandmother’s and some bulky acrylic yarn.

It was quite awful. But it was, nonetheless, an exercise in tactile dexterity.

Later on in life, when I was in college I further explored my relationship and skills with textiles arts. College allowed me the freedom to daydream about my past, present and future. Though an art history major, I was able to dwell on the significance of these things I refused to let go of namely making art and music.

I took harp lessons all throughout college and was also a part of the chamber music club. Something in me refused to let my instrument slide and it still does.

Not until my senior year did things finally click.

It was then that I realized a deeply personal link between technical, musical ability and the textile arts. And, beyond tactile link, there is also a spiritual, poetic link.

Music and fiber.

Both vary in texture.

Full of color.

Both have the energy of life running through in intense or subtle ways

For a while now, my energy has dissipated in regards to this link. I’ve let it simmer for a bit, but never completely forgot. I hope to explore it again this year and beyond, using this space as a public thought cloud, and as I continue to dive back into practicing and making more regularly.

I hope to get into a daily habit of writing and discovering and look forward to exploring this world with you … thanks for reading & more to come!

With love and thoughfulness,

Lisa Jo ❤