You Don’t Know Me
By Juliet Martin


You know my sculptures.

They are woven documentaries, my life recorded in fiber. Moment-by-moment, day-to-day, stitch-by-stitch. Pins and needles organize my thoughts. I sew the cloth into self-portraits. I handweave because depth and richness can’t be found in store-bought fabric. The personality of the fabric evolves, matures. Forms, colors, textures are part of my biography.

You don’t know me but you know my sculptures.

Fighting Colors: Men I Have Known

When I started making the “Men I Have Known” sculptures, I chose colors that contrasted with one another – colors that “fight.” Bright blues and oranges became the energy behind each sculpture. Because they did not match, they jolted the viewer alive. Mismatched colors became sexy and exciting. The physical forms are important, but the palette defines each piece.

Each three-dimensional tapestry represents a different sex partner: “One Night in Vegas,” “Sigma Chi,” “The Bad Boy.” Hanging my trophies on the wall, I reduce my partners to their sex organs. The titles are the only clues as to what transpired.

The sculptures are squeezable  and soft, colorful and vibrant. Cartoonlike, these objects are approachable and fun, satirizing the mood, satirizing all the men I have known.


Form First: 38 Voices in My Head

Instead of focusing on fighting colors, I challenged myself to use neutral earth tones. This made the forms of the pieces more important. Outlines of straggling yarn and roving became more important that the palette. The silhouette of the sculptures are dominant.

“38 Voices in My Head” is a chorus of sculptures documenting what runs through my head. I am never alone; I am comforted by the life-size manifestations of my thoughts.
 
The forms are 3-dimensional diary entries, each reminding me of what I’ve been thinking. The count—49 thoughts so far—is never-ending.

Stuffed-animal thoughts: different ideas, serious considerations, fleeting moments, just a notion? Questions would physically line the walls. The room becomes my brain.

The voices free me from worry and burden me. They and the threads tangle, bulge with uncertainty. Alone? Hardly. Welcome to my world.

See more photos on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/saori.hiroba/posts/616541701768387