2023
My aunt and I are sitting on the floor of a room I do not recognize. It’s probably about 2006, if I had to guess. She is reaching to put on her sandals, and I reach for my own feet at the same time. Aunt Robin wears a green shirt, and I have on an orange sundress. I think it’s summer.
During my semester-long project, I investigated a future that called for new ways of documenting memory, a departure from digital archives and dusty photo albums. Memories are so much more than a snapshot of a moment in time, they represent the past and the present, and our own perception is even a reflection of the future. Textiles offer possibilities of memory preservation that photography does not; interaction with light, form, and tactility. I used this project as a means of finding new ways of conserving memory through the process of weaving a textile made with the intention of presenting it in relation to the body. My final product, a woven jacket, communicates the layering of memory through the use of the double weave structure. The interior and exterior of the jacket are distinct from one another, a reflection of how remembrance is a deeply personal experience, and perception of a particular memory will differ between people. The making process of this textile was as significant as the final product, I consider the time spent creating the weaving to be a conversation with the memory itself and an opportunity for me to reflect on a moment in the past, contribute my current experiences to this memory.
The photograph I referenced above was only looked at twice during the duration of this project. First when I presented the idea, and then again only when I had finished the weaving. The color palette and formal decisions of the weaving were based solely on my own memory of this moment with my aunt, and my memory of the photograph.
2006