I have been weaving for most of my life. After more than 40 years I still find myself enthralled by the moment my shuttle crosses the warp and creates the woven piece. The patterns, colors, and textures of the yarns I weave always change, yet the act of sitting at the loom -- treadling the foot pedals, shuttling the bobbin back and forth, beating the yarn into cloth -- remains constant, inspiring, and miraculous.
Before the weaving begins there is the warping process. The winding of yarn on the loom, threading the heddles in the harnesses and reed, calibrating the warp tension, are all tedious and exacting work. Colors, yarn strength and patterns are premeditated, Mistakes will be made and corrected. Yet when all is ready, I approach the weaving as an artistic experiment. What will happen to blue as it interacts with green and purple? Causality and its happy accidents keep me invested in the process, even if it is yet another scarf in a long line of scarves woven over time.
I weave in an improvisational way, knowing the structure of the piece, yet free to move color and pattern through the object. I want my cloth to stand the test of time and exist as a beautiful creation.