S&S: Elsewhere, you have compared textiles to wine, with its own terroir. I really love this idea of textiles as recording this hyper-local and specific history. Also, like wine, textiles have this insanely rich and very human history.
MM: Yes, that’s true. The farm-to-table pathway runs parallel to the seed-to-stitch journey. Cotton farmers and makers of textiles are stewards of land and culture in a similar way that vineyards and winemakers represent regional specialties.
If you go to a wine tasting, the language used to describe wine can seem high-brow and can add a sort of reverence for the fact that growing, fermenting grapes, and transforming them into wine is a slow process that requires skill and knowledge.
When we speak to the qualities and properties of a textile, our zero-count hand-spun yarn has a low twist, a lofted character, and a dry hand. Increasing our textile lexicon to find more nuanced ways of describing the characteristics of fabric is definitely part of our practice.
Since the beginning of civilization, cloth and clothing have offered a sense of warmth, protection, and security. As society evolves, our relationship with textiles also continues to change.
Our connection to clothes starts when we are born and persists until our last days…
Most major milestones of life are marked with ceremonial cloth - at birth, babies are swaddled in a baby blanket. Birthdays and holidays are often marked with new clothing. Getting married and wearing wedding attire – like a dress, a veil, a sari, a kimono, or a suit — all have their own cultural context when it comes to clothes and clothing. When we die, there are burial shrouds - bodies are wrapped in cloth and cremated or dressed in a favorite outfit and laid to rest.
Textiles and clothing are endlessly fascinating as vehicles of communication that express our identities before we even utter a word.