Threads spanning time and tugging at remembrances. Remembering what I was thinking as I wove the first threads onto my loom, remembering the flooding emotions in the hot fall sun after my dad died, remembering the joyous exploration in new forms with gloved hands on a cloudy winter day, remembering the time when all we had were our blankets to keep us warm. Long memories, dreams, or daydreams.
This piece was woven on a warp of organic cotton-linen, with a weft of three-ply raw silk. Into it were knotted the salvaged warp thread ends from nearly ten years of weaving. After each warp has rolled its way through my loom there is a certain amount of leftover thread. These I have saved, and continue to save, bringing them together into a single piece containing all the memory from years of weaving.
The form of this weaving was inspired by a spectacular woolen cloak that I saw years ago. It was a large woolen piece, woven in black and brown coarse wool. Into one side of the cloak was woven a mass of fringe, gathering the creature warmth of sheep wool and giving it to the human wearer. The cloak was reversible, for snowy days the shaggy fringe could be worn on the outside to repel the falling flakes, or worn with the fringe on the inside to reveal the intricate geometric patterns woven into the fabric. It was a revelation to see this humble garment.