Sun Wobbles started with a gifted box of vintage Liberty fabrics. They were almost too beautiful to cut – I wanted so badly to honor these fabrics that I let them collect dust in my closet. 

My fiber arts practice is materials-driven – I wait until a fabric reveals what it would like to be. These two specific fabrics simply couldn’t be separated as they evoked the same scene (A garden? A coral reef?) viewed in light and in shadow. I found myself cutting long strips in order to maintain the integrity of the pattern, and gathering them into a manipulatable, almost fluid state. I drew an initial curve on a piece of muslin in pencil, and gently suggested the fabric follow it. The process was organic, and an exercise in relinquishing control – there was a limit to how much the fabric would bend. 

What emerged was an undulating scene, reminiscent of light on water, rolling hills late in the day, topographical maps. Initially, I planned to quilt it on the machine, but it felt quite violent to crush these gentle curves with the harsh lines of a zig-zag stitch. A single neon thread felt appropriate. It added a subtle glow to the piece, and, as a happy byproduct, made the back look very cool. 

Every step of this process was defined by this fabric – the desire not to waste it, the limits of its malleability, and its tendency to fray. I look forward to receiving my next set of instructions.