Tanvi Kant's Poetic Twist on Things

I have been a big fan of Tanvi Kant's recycled textile accessories for quite some time. Each wearable piece has a vocabulary of its own and seems to demonstrate a free-spirited lesson in thrifty resourcefulness and poetic defiance. If I had had more time to prepare for Urban Fiber Flotsam, I might have spent my evenings in the studio twisting and knotting my flotsam into delicate cords and twine. I know that when I return to the farm near Siena there will be more than enough vine-like overgrowth to inspire my next series of fiber forays.

Flotsam as Metaphor

I certainly do not profess to put my work on par with fiber artist Sheila Hicks, but I was amused when I came across these recent images of hers and their compatibility with my fiber flotsam experiments. Her 'Ringlets' (Paris, 1993) - constructed out of colored rubber bands and paper clips is a definite favorite of mine.

Chatelaine Fiber Chain

My artist friend Brece Honeycutt kindly came out last Saturday to support and participate in my Lower East Side drifting with spun flotsam. She also clued me into the fact that my get up for the day looked somewhat reminiscent of a chatelaine or 19th century "housekeeper's belt".

A chatelaine or 'chain' is a decorative belt hook or clasp worn at the waist with a series of smaller chains suspended from it. Each chain is mounted with a useful household appendage such as scissors, thimble, watch, key, vinaigrette, household seal, etc. In the domestic sphere these implements obviously helped one to navigate the home and always feel 'equipped'. My urban mapping and exploration involved perhaps more impromptu tools - conversation being the principal means of interfacing and connecting. Nonetheless, I am now thinking hard about what my ideal chatelaine might consist of, particularly in this era of environmental sensitivity and heightened awareness.

Street Spinning/Mapping

Remarkable synchronicities and somewhat magical moments occurred during Urban Fiber Flotsam. Jung often (loosely) described 'synchronicity' as being an 'acausal connecting principle'. Archetypes floated into view whether on random street corners, peering into pavement cracks, or as layers to be decoded on plastered alley walls. Drifting can indeed by a very centering experience. It is perhaps the most natural way to truly feel at one with your urban surroundings.

Fiber Flotsam Friends

Stopover at Freeman's Tavern on Chrystie Street

Yesterday's outing on the Lower East Side was brilliant, and I have a lot of folks to thank for helping to make my 'drifting experiment' so anchored. I am in the process of archiving all of the photos and documentation, so please stay tuned for a more comprehensive overview of the tour.

For now, I would like to thank the following collaborators:

The CONFLUX 2008 team and curators
Jill Fehrenbacher and Inhabitat for their support
Meiling Chen for her photography and art direction
Jill Danyelle, creative ecologist and 'remake' inspiration
Brece Honeycutt for her input and spun fleece ideas
Moe Beitiks and Olivia Chen for their writing and editing
Eve Mosher for her encouragement and public works
Purl Soho and Habu Textiles
Ludmil, Jasper, Oliver, and Finn
Dad, a farmer and Mom, a handspinner


Eko-Lab Designer, Meiling Chen

Stopover at The New Museum on the Bowery

F.L.U.F.F Wrap Up

I have been twining, knotting, and crocheting up a storm these past few days. Today I will be drifting the Bowery and small paved offshoots and byways - trying to catch an early autumn breeze and some flotsam in my hem. Wrapping things up at The New Museum Cafe by 4pm - if you want to share a tea. The museum guards might not let me in. If so, I will see you outside for a group photo.

* F.L.U.F.F. = 'Farmed Left-Overs of Urban Fiber Flotsam'

Your Trash is Too Beautiful

So a dude on the street yesterday commented that the trash (flotsam) that I had gathered was essentially too darn beautiful. Granted I am prone to edited harvesting - selective picking, but this comment sort of made me feel dirty or shameful. Trash can be beautiful. Anything that drifts is, by nature, poetic. Which led me to wonder - is the classification of trash and the unanchored debris in our lives a feminist issue?