ARTISTS STATEMENT

When my mother died I found some woollen rugs on her bed. They were made from squares that we had crocheted when we were young. I come from a long line of women, who, by necessity, crafted all manner of beautiful things for warmth and security. Because craft was at the bottom of the art hierarchy and much of it was ‘women’s work’, women were not valued as artists. This work is homage to my female forebears, hidden as artists, and subservient to the needs of their families. I join generations of feminist artists who reprised craft as their medium and who also took a swipe at the establishment that made the rules by which women were marginalized.

WRAPPED UP

Essay by Sophia Cai Curator / Writer / Knitter

http://sophiacai.info

Textiles form an indelible part of our everyday lives; they clothe us, cover us, protect us, warm us, style us, dry us, decorate and embellish us. As an almost universal material component of culture, the rich history of textiles is also a history of human civilisation.

 Despite this universality and the familiarity of the textile medium – or maybe because this very utilitarianism – art galleries and institutions of the Eurocentric tradition have historically relegated textile or craft practices to a lower artistic register. Within a hierarchy of art and craft, textile-based works have often been devalued or regarded as a ‘lesser’ medium. This delineation is of course, closely related to the gendered status of textile works, and the view of craft-practices as domestic ‘women’s work.’

 Artists have challenged these hierarchical delineations between art and craft for a long time. From the Arts and Crafts Movement headed by William Morris in the 19th century, to the reclaiming of craft mediums in feminist art practices of the 1970s, and the present day methods of ‘craftivism’ as political action, textiles have become increasingly visible in art practice.[1] The rise of conceptualism and the dematerialisation of art (where the emphasis is on concept rather than physical forms) has also further opened up the doors to previously overlooked materials. As craft historian Glenn Adamson describes, in an ‘undifferentiated field of practice’ no single ‘activity has any more right to be called art than another.’[2]

 Allison Rose’s photography series My Mother’s Embrace can be understood within this broader context and re-evaluation of textile practice. Rose cites the influence of feminist art practices and a legacy of female artists as a major influence on this body of work, as well as her own personal history and relationship with her mother. The initial inspiration for this series of works were a series of hand-crocheted woollen rugs made by the artist in her youth with her mother, which were recently re-discovered by Rose after her mother’s passing.

 On initial impressions, Rose’s works verge on the nostalgic and sentimental.

The brightly coloured crochet rugs that form the core visual thematic and subject of the works are instantly recognisable and suggest the domestic comforts of home; of blankets draped on bodies and beds during cold winter days. Rose deliberately works with a particular type of vintage crochet blanket, one that can nowadays be easily found in most local op-shops and flea markets, and is often made using scraps of leftover yarn and a mixture of wool and acrylic. Even if you don’t have one of these blankets in your home, you are most likely to recognise its appearance.

 My Mother’s Embrace unashamedly embraces the kitsch aesthetic of these blankets, and uses them as a starting point for further cultural commentary. In the photographs titled Cosies, Rose depicts a range of vessels and urns, covered in blankets, which are displayed on wrapped plinths in front of loud and brightly coloured backdrops. The clashing patterns and bright colours are visually arresting, and instil the series with a nostalgic connection to the rebellion and the counter culture of the late 1960s and 70s.

 Cosies also uses the visual language of museological displays to question the value systems that are prescribed to works of art. Modelled on classical Greek urns and vessels and then placed on plinths, Rose’s centrepieces are a playful nod to the ways by which objects are ‘elevated’ in museum contexts. The vessel shape can also be interpreted visually as a connection to the female body, and their variety of shapes is described by the artist as a reflection on the diversity of ‘womanhood in all its manifestations.’[3]

 This connection to the female body is further explored in the portrait series Blankies. Whereas Cosies covered vessels, the central subject in Blankies is a female figure concealed beneath a crochet blanket. This act of concealment renders the figure ambiguous, allowing for a variety of readings and interpretations. Is she concealing herself from our gaze, or is the blanket offering her a means of protection? Like Cosies, there are references to Western antiquity here in the way that the female body is posed, with the downcast head and the soft contours a visual nod to classical sculptural forms.

 In the final image of My Mother’s Embrace series, titled The Maker, Rose places the figure amongst a full display of urns and vessels. Viewed in this context, the figure can be read as a mere prop, an object rather than a subject. This conflation between the animate and inanimate can also be interpreted more critically as a comment on the ways in which female bodies continue to be regulated or subjugated. Conversely, in a more positive reading, this composition highlights the continuing endurance of female-centric art-making and creative practice. As suggested by the title itself, the central figure stands amongst objects of her own creation.

 My Mother’s Embrace use the familiar language of everyday items to recognise and celebrate the resilience of feminist art practice through a domestic lens. Using a familiar visual language and bold colour palette, Rose’s photo series playfully challenge gendered connotations surrounding craft-practice and labour.

[1] I acknowledge that this is a mostly Eurocentric art history, and that textiles and art practice have developed differently in other world cultures. However, for the purpose of this essay and the context in which the artist is working, I will focus on this history.

[2] Glenn Adamson (ed), The Craft Reader (Oxford; New York: Berg, 2010), 586  

[3] Taken from artist statement