In the world of literature, the concept of ‘intertextuality’ is concerned with interrelationships between texts that are comprised of the written word. In this exhibit we explore the interrelationships among modern indigenous textile-based artworks in a global context. At the heart of all textiles lies weaving, a skill which, in general can be described as forming or constructing something by interlacing threads, yarns, strips, etc. or even more broadly, as composing a connected whole by combining various elements or details. We will see how different indigenous artists choose to construct/weave their literal or figurative fabric—a fishing net, a shawl, or even paper lace—to convey meaning or draw the viewer’s attention to a concept. And how, for each artist, there is a harkening back to ancestral knowledge and the discovery of means to synthesize that knowledge for the modern world as art while often embracing today’s technology to facilitate their artistic expression.
This exhibit’s artists are all women, not as much by purposeful design as by the recognized quality of their work as well as the respect in which their work is held within the artworld. Perhaps this is because, for the 12,000-year history of weaving it has been women, whose natural abilities to be patient, detailed, and thorough, who have excelled as weavers. The artists’ homelands are as disparate as what we now call New Zealand, Taiwan, Finland, and Mexico. Several were formally trained in art—specifically painting—but found their way back to the textile medium. It is this affinity for the medium combined with the shared experience of their abiding indigenous histories and traditions that binds them and their work together across the miles.
You will find the artwork of these women not only on the gallery walls, but suspended above you, inviting you to move about and explore, perhaps even brushing your shoulder. While you are enjoying this experience, we hope you will also appreciate both the miles and the millennia these works have crossed.
As a designer, Pia Camil unabashedly sings the praises of Frank Stella whose influence can be seen in the sculpture from her “Skins” series, Valparaiso Green Cloak for Three. It is a serape-like form which employs textile factory cast-offs to pay homage to traditional Mexican craft work. Unlike her popular soft-sculptures incorporating ready-to-wear clothing such as t-shirts and jeans for the purpose of shining a light on the effects of consumerism and advertising on modern society, the “Skins” series moves closer to the 2-D format of a painting which was Camil’s primary medium during her formal training.
But this is not the case with Velo Revelo (above). Designed for the exhibition, Pia Camil: Velo Revelo at the Clark Art Institute, its title combines the Spanish words for “veil” and “to reveal” as a means of suggesting the tensions between public and private, opaque and transparent and domestic and institutional which Camil repeatedly explores. The 50 plus feet long curtain is constructed of sheer women’s pantyhose in varying skin tones. In its installation at the Clark, the intriguingly diaphanous velo was situated to partially conceal portions of the building itself as well as a strategically chosen painting (Giovanni Boldini’s Young Woman Crocheting, 1875, depicting craft as leisure) from the museum’s collection while the source material of the curtain brought intimacy, domesticity and femininity to its institutional architecture.
Deminen Wings was collectively created from Yuma Taru’s design by women of the Atayal tribe in Taru’s native Taiwan where “tinum” means weaving. Taru’s work, both in her art practice and in the folk education school she founded in 2010 where she passes on her knowledge and techniques, hoping to restore confidence in their culture to her tribespeople, has brought about the renaissance of Atayal weaving. Deminen Wings is part of Academia Sinica’s “Walking in the History” series of public art.
Surprisingly, rami—the basic yarn used in the sturdy and substantial Deminen Wings—is also at the core of Taru’s more recent piece, The Spiral of Life—the Tongue of the Cloth (above)—a mutual dialog, an almost ethereal work that hangs suspended from metal threads. Its purpose is to give visual representation to the Atayal oral language. The obvious delicacy of the piece speaks to the fact that, according to Atayal tribal elders, words must be akin to the softness of cloth so that thoughts can be conveyed without injury or damage to the listener.
Despite the fact Lonnie Hutchinson has a diploma in Textile Printing from the Auckland Institute of Technology, her piece, Milk and Honey, is the only one in this exhibition that is not truly textile based. It is, instead, fashioned from black builder’s paper (a reinforced version of craft paper) intricately cut so that it appears as lace design. The triptych, which was commissioned by the Aukland Art Gallery, shows Black Pearl, a recurring figure in Hutchinson’s work, in the center panel, her hair ablaze and tree-like roots at her feet. This character comes from Pacific narratives and is the symbol of female empowerment. Her phantom is said to “haunt the subconscious of the dormant patriarchy”. She is a powerful figure for Hutchinson whose practice addresses issues from the indigenous and feminist perspective. In explaining these designs Hutchinson has said, “…within my art practice, I honour tribal whakapapa or genealogy…to produce works that are linked to memories of recent and ancient past...I make works that talk about those spaces in-between…(the) spiritual spaces.” It is this approach that explains the fact that the time and energy invested in cutting the builder’s paper pieces focuses on shaping the negative space within each design.
Miwi Milloo, an expansive, dazzingly white net featuring traditional feather craft flowers was woven during the long months of 2020 in preparation for the National Gallery of Victoria’s Triennial exhibition as COVID-19 was taking its toll on Australia. Master weaver, Glenda Nicholls of Victoria was taught by her mother to weave and work with feathers as a child but, out of necessity she learned the art of hand knotting fishnets to help support her family as an adult. Following her father’s early, “Don’t stay in the box,” advice, she quickly saw fish nettings’ applicability to art. Deeply personal for Nicholls who grew up playing and fishing on the banks of the Milloo (Murray River), the net pays homage to Miwi, the good spirit presiding there.
Winner of 2015’s Deadly Art Award, the most prestigious prize of the annual Victorian Indigenous Art Awards, A Woman’s Rite of Passage is sculpture comprised of three life-size hand-woven jute string cloaks designed to represent Indigenous women and the role they play in Australia’s Welcome to Country (land acknowledgement) ceremonies. The cloaks are titled “Acknowledgement”, “Elders” and “Welcome”. Nicholls said the idea for the work formed slowly as the materials spoke to her recounting stories of the lives of Aboriginal women in the early settlements of Australia.
She is now handing down her weaving and feather-crafting skills to her granddaughter.
Whatever medium she chooses, the natural surroundings of Ouit Peski’s northern homeland demand her attention as subject matter while she simultaneously pays homage to the Sami people, using their traditional crafting methods, as displayed here in Falling Shawls. Peski uses traditional Sami shawl thread and references the shawl that is part of Sami dress in the form of the installation. A collaborative effort, she was assisted by Sami women skilled in duodji, traditional Sami craft. For the Sami, nature is considered a cultural space where people live which is reflected in the installation’s design as it communicates with the architecture of the gallery while simultaneously allowing for personal interaction with viewers.
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