toolboxEarth

fiber art that's there for you

art as a bridge between our fragments

weaving as a universal narrative

fiber art as a bridge between our eyes,

and a dream-like state to find rest in

art as a bridge between us

dear reader,

been thinking about

the differences between

lake ontario

(born and raised in rochester, ny)

and

lake michigan

(currently kickin It in chicago, il)

been thinkin about

this idea that we each have 

orbs

(in the form of your choosing)

inside us to unearth

(cc: michelangelo’s hall of slaves)

they’re in there

the piece shown

is one of toolboxEarth’s orbs

unearthed by lake ontario

the piece shown

hung in the memorial art gallery

(a museum we went to on school field trips)

for their 68th installment

of the RFLX exhibition

(biannual, 27 counties)

the piece shown

is entitled

(before i introduce you further:

-the warp strings are the skeleton of a weaving

-the weft strings are the muscles and tendons, woven around the warp strings)

fighting weight, 2022

15.5x19x1”

materials include:

-thrifted picture frame*

-beginning with the red and moving clockwise: ripped fabric, garbage bags, jewelry ribbon, paper bags**, vintage gift ribbon, raffia, film, and tissue paper**

-dried daffodil rope** are the full rounds

*back in 2021, i wanted to figure out how to properly build a framed weaving//build a weaving into a frame. not just attach prongs or studs to warp, the end result a weaving attached to a frame. so i figgered and this is the method i came up with- to drill holes around the perimeter of the frame and warp through the frame of a weaving, vs around the frame.

**cord is a single strand, rope is single strands wrapped to create a strong material. these were first twisted into a rope, then woven

believe that what we find in quiet is truth

and the totems, the artwork offered here, are tools to help you find It

because once we find It,

we can keep finding it

together

we are one universal narrative

(dont let the flame go out)

believe that

whatever your ‘It’ is,

art can take It

as the creaking whispers of ice,

as a friend,

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