all photos by Yael Eban, unless otherwise noted

oh mother is a constellation of discrete weavings and objects first exhibited together in the group show Three Walls, the culminating exhibition of the Textile Arts Center’s Artist-in-Residence program, September 2018 at the Gowanus Loft, Brooklyn, NY.

All photos were taken by Chang Yuchen, unless otherwise noted.

this time together is an installation of weavings created daily; at the time of this installation, the work comprised 185 weavings. The installation also includes a “legend” which notes the significance of the yarn colors.

For each weaving, the warp color corresponds with the outside temperature at the time of weaving; the weft color corresponds with the weaver’s mood (determined by a mood ring) at the time of weaving; and the color of the twining at the top and bottom of each tiny cloth notes the time of day (according to Traditional Chinese Medicine) the weaving was made.

This piece exemplifies my interest in exploring ways of creating systems (or games), through which design decisions are made and information is translated into pattern. Additionally, this work comes out of my interest in mapping an intersection of the experience of atmosphere and time with internal bodily experience. 

materials: series of small hand-woven cloths (cotton, wool, and acrylic yarn); maple and canvas; plant, water, and glass jar; found materials

dimensions: installation dimensions variable; each individual weaving measures approx. 1.5 inches (w) with a warp length of 6 inches.

2018, ongoing

SOME BEGINS: a mythography was an exhibition of sculptures created collaboratively, and (in some instances) telepathically, by Meg Shevenock and Jamie Boyle. The collection of sculptures evaluates the lives of objects, exploring what it is they radiate through their beings: the object's material record of history and the miracle of their discovery. The work wonders over the meanings that are felt, collected, illumined, and commonly ignored, infusing all objects. To kneel on the sidewalk and lift a filthy fragment from the ground is to engage in the inexplicable and miraculous: how one's body and this thing came, in this moment, to be together. If we can find ourselves kin to a plastic, discarded ribbon bleached of its pink by the sun, what does that say about our personal identities, and our beliefs about the world?

707 Gallery, Pittsburgh Cultural Trust, Summer 2014

When I first sat at a loom, I remarked, and still do, that no other material practice has ever felt so right to my body. It is a combination of the precise engineering involved in the planning of the project—the end is in the beginning—and the more free-wheeling improvisation that necessarily arises through the course of weaving, and probably something else. The resulting cloth is also a record of the time of its making, the weaver’s mood and physical state recorded in the shifting tensions; I am an archivist at heart. This personal attraction keeps me returning to the practice. Plainly, it’s love.

Not really all

but some

in different ways at different times…