2024
My grandparents sit next to each other on a long bench. It’s their wedding day, March 17th, 1969. Grama is wearing a red dress, and Poppa, a black sweater. They both have long hair, and they’re laughing. On the paneled wood wall behind them, handmade posters in both English and Norwegian quote the Bible. When I was sent this photo not too many months ago, I could hardly recognize the people in it. Yet somehow, these were the same pair that had been incredibly present in my childhood, caring for me nearly every day. What does it mean to know someone so well, and realize that so many of your memories will never be shared? Referencing colors and motifs from my grandparents’ home and lifestyle, I developed a weave structure that encoded my own memories of them into the weave structure. The florals of their couch and Poppa’s Aloha shirts inspired the surface quality of the textile, and I pulled colors from the warm light of their home.
In a second component, I created a system of marking my own recollection of memories throughout my life through woven structure. Based on emotional and visual clarity of memory, I considered the translation of remembrance between mind, textile, and paper. By tying together my writing and weaving practices, language became more than words.
Memory is not a photograph, it is not a journal entry, and it is not the story your mother told you should remember. It is non-linear, cross-generational, and deeply emotional. Through a weaving practice, I can invite people into my own life, through my textiles on their body. The memories that are held so closely that they are almost indescribable become accessible through the cloth that holds a remnant of my hand.
Modeled by my dear friend, Annika
Grama and Poppa on their Wedding Day
1969
Close to Heart
2024
Both components showcased together.
Holding Memory
2024
Mx dyed cotton warp, cotton weft
35” x 110“