Silk Road

Pigments seep through the porous weave like footprints in sand, a road without borders. The fiber already knew this journey. Hemp and jute crossed these routes long before they reached a studio floor, as rope, as sacking, as the sails of ships. Amin Maalouf writes of identities that are made of many belongings and cannot be reduced to one. The cloth is the same: no single origin, carrying every place it passed through, and the road on its surface stops at no border. The fiber crossed from the far east of Asia into Europe in the caravans, as sacking for coffee beans and rice, as rope and as sail. It arrives already travelled.