Textile Language, A Master’s of Science in Textile Design Thesis Exhibition at Philadelphia University.
Featuring the body of work I am, I am, I am by Rachel Snack.
I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart.
I am, I am, I am.
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
These textiles are objects of memory, meant to provoke physical feelings connected to specific places of meaning. Moments of wishing a place still existed, recreating lost spaces, spaces of personal value, and collections of places.
This body of work explores line as a symbol, highlighting the idea of drawing within the grid of weaving and referencing the sculptural and conceptual departure of the vessel. The texture, color, and subtleties of shape and imagery is driven by the idea of sacred spaces gone unnoticed in everyday place. The quarter sized spot above the stove where the paint has peeled off revealing the wallpaper underneath, the chip in the old dresser, the crack in the sidewalk, or the bracelet with a missing bead.
This is the crux, where it all meets in textile language: weaving, the grid, body, place, land, sacred space, stillness, line, vessel, and memory. These weavings are the grid made permanent in relationship to the body and manipulated by line. They commemorate the imperfect as perfect, the sacred space of the loom, weaving in infinity, and the tactile vessel. They pay homage to the feeling of stillness in place and the symbolism of landscape. These textiles are made on the loom to conceptualize the grid, in order to craft a connection to body, and inspire religion of space apart from the loom.
This body of work, I am, I am, I am, is a dialect of my memory grounded in space, as a weaver, as a maker, as body and breath. They create a visual of my sacred space, the fragmented memories of my relationship to place, and a memorial to the intrinsic grid. They carry the power of my remembrances and the repetition of my body in motion. They are the preservation of my place in the nonrelational matrix, creating material evidence, bearing witness. They are my identity, my routine, my rite of passage.
I am land, I am vessel, I am cloth.