Juliet Martin
Juliet Martin · Source: New York Artists Circle · Rights retained by the original rights holders
- Medium
- Fiber
- Practice
- Fiber/Textile Art
Juliet Martin is vulnerable. Both lying sleepless staring at the ceiling and sitting at her loom are emotional processes. It is hard to be, hard to weave without emotion. Falling figures with animal skulls cascade down h… Full biography
Biography
Juliet Martin is vulnerable. Both lying sleepless staring at the ceiling and sitting at her loom are emotional processes. It is hard to be, hard to weave without emotion. Falling figures with animal skulls cascade down her hand-woven tapestry. A blue fur dining table comforts little panicky boxes encrusted with glitter. She needing romance, shakily at best, in love was borne the collection “Anxiety Is a Love I Cannot Break Up With.”
Things come first. Meaning comes later. Journaling sketches of furniture led to an illustrated fear of Covid. Drawing a rabbit a day for 2 years internalized other fear. Discomfort showed itself in an overabundance of chicken legs.
She works in fiber and mixed media. Weaving. Drawing. Printmaking. Digital imaging. Sculpting Masonite. Collaging materials brings whimsy and curiosity – How did you do that? (Are they asking about the process, or the pain?) Weaving becomes her noun and her verb. The simple design of her loom encourages improvisation and even mistakes. Is drawing also a noun or verb? With anticipation, the pencil puts down the blueprint. Then ink deliberately traces the graphite, adding emphasis. Erasure frees the ink from the penciling, a relationship lost.
Her detail-oriented process conveys her general insecurity and how that is used to tell a story, imaginary or otherwise. Her stories are not real, but they are true.
Artist statement
I am vulnerable. Both lying sleepless staring at the ceiling and sitting at my loom are emotional processes. It is hard to be, hard to weave without emotion. Falling figures with animal skulls cascade down my hand-woven tapestry. A blue fur dining table comforts little panicky boxes encrusted with glitter. I need romance, shakily at best, in love was borne the collection “Anxiety Is a Love I Cannot Break Up With.”
Things come first. Meaning comes later. Journaling sketches of furniture led to an illustrated fear of Covid. Drawing a rabbit a day for 2 years internalized other fear. Discomfort showed itself in an overabundance of chicken legs.
I work in fiber and mixed media. Weaving. Drawing. Printmaking. Digital imaging. Sculpting Masonite. Collaging materials brings whimsy and curiosity – How did you do that? (Are they asking about the process, or the pain?) Weaving becomes my noun and my verb. The simple design of my loom encourages improvisation and even mistakes. Is drawing also a noun or verb? With anticipation, the pencil puts down the blueprint. Then ink deliberately traces the graphite, adding emphasis. Erasure frees the ink from the penciling, a relationship lost.
My detail-oriented process conveys her general insecurity and how that is used to tell a story, imaginary or otherwise. My stories are not real, but they are true.
