Susan Avishai creates her fiber art from deconstructed and discarded clothing to evoke awareness of textile waste. When her mother died, she was given the task of sorting through her clothing. She eased her grieving by cutting up the clothes to create homages to her mom.
How did you find yourself on an artist’s path? Always there? Lightbulb moment? Dragged kicking and screaming? Evolving?
I actually began intuitively seeing myself as an artist at the tender age of three, when my father’s pen fell out of his shirt pocket as he bent over to tuck me in. I still have the memory of scribbling all over my sheet with blue ballpoint. Despite the fact that my mother wasn’t too pleased the next morning with my creation, she did go on to make sure I had all the art supplies I wanted as I grew up. (Perhaps to save the furniture?)
Early in my art career, I was something of a photorealist, yet part of me longed to return to the thrill of that “abstract expressionist” little kid scribbling away. It took a long time, maybe fifty years to loosen up again to that degree.
How did you get started making fiber art? Why did you choose that medium?
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I spent so many years doing printmaking, drawings and paintings in silverpoint, coloured pencil, and egg tempera, then large collages, always in combination with a professional career in book illustration.
I came rather late to the medium of fiber, and have no formal training in any of its techniques. Fifteen years ago my mom died, and as her only daughter, I had the sad task of sorting through her clothing and possessions. But I couldn’t give away garments that had such a strong connection to her. Some still carried the scent of her perfume. Instead, I brought much of it back home with me. Eventually, I began to cut them up and make homages to her. It eased the grieving.
I began to incorporate others’ cast-off garments, haunting the thrift shops, especially as I researched the extent of the textile waste we produce and toss into landfill. So the work took on an activist approach as I tried to demonstrate the second life most of this waste could have with a little artful imput.
Do you plan your work out ahead of time, or do you just dive in with your materials and start creating?
I play around with the materials, and I play around in my mind. Anything can trigger ideas so I try to stay alert.
Planning too much ahead seems to cramp the spontaneity. My realistic work used to be a matter of deciding on an image from a found photo, or one taken by me, getting it down on paper, and ending up with something mostly expected. But when you work by reacting to the mark or stitch that has just come before, the experience is far more exciting.
I like feeling light on my feet, changing ideas as they hit me, not feeling bound up in the imagined finished piece.
Are you a “finisher”?
Definitely a finisher: you can’t enter shows with unfinished work. How do you know when it’s finished? I don’t know. I think perhaps it sits more quietly in your body when you’ve said what you wanted to say. And it pokes you internally when there’s more to do.
Scraps. Saver? Or be done with them?
Oh, I think we fiber artists must all be savers. There’s got to be some part of the brain that knows just where to find that particular shade of blue somewhere in your stashes when you need it. (And what joy when you find it!) There may be a fine line between saving and hoarding but I guess we all tend to fill the space we have. It helps to be a decent organizer of what is saved.
Can you tell us about the inspiration and process of one of your works?
Well, after the pandemic began, we all felt so uncertain about when it would be over, when we could be with family and friends again. I needed to pursue something that would give me a feeling of continuity. What the finished piece would be was only a vague idea in my head, but adding to it each day gave me a sense of purpose and even control.
As I made my little quilted donuts, pinning them to my design wall atop swatches of fabric tossed by interior designers, they looked like bubbles. They began to personify all the people in my life that I couldn’t touch in person– the intimacy wished for and denied during covid– except as created by me in this growing, joyful medley of recycled fabrics. I called it “I Want to Bubble with Everyone” and it took about twelve months to complete, giving me a project I could dedicate myself to during a hard time. If making art is diarizing to some degree, this piece embodied the year 2020.
Is there an overarching theme that connects all of your work? How have you evolved over the years?
I’ve always wanted to say something that’s in some way connected to the human experience. Early on I worked on “Scapes of the Clothed Figure,” wherein I described how the body is both hidden and revealed by what is worn, a metaphor of sorts to describe how we allow aspects of our nature to be shown to the world, yet keep much to ourselves.
When I began upcycling clothing, I wanted very much to bring awareness to the societal problem of textile waste and how necessary it is to find paths for reuse. I didn’t imagine everyone would begin making wall hangings from their outgrown jeans, but I think the work helped viewers to see what could be made into art. These pieces helped spark conversations about transformation, mindfulness… impermanence and what lasts.
At the same time, I felt I was retracing the worn steps of women long before me who wove and patched and mended to extend the life of their garments, but who also dyed and embroidered because humans naturally want to create beauty.
I began using the cast-off clothing to create work that brought my fears about climate change into sharper relief– my “Shirts of the Apocalypse” series. There’s a lot more to be said about our fragile planet and what changes we must take seriously or face real consequence. This may continue to be a theme for a long time.
Recently I’ve been wondering more and more about how to make fiber work that conveys the upset and confusion over political unrest and destruction I see in parts of the world. How much to say overtly? How to be subtle? How specific or how open-ended? I’m not going for pretty. I want viewers to be touched or even disturbed by this work, to slow down and take it in, to have the experience themselves, not merely see my version. El Anatsui, an artist I admire, says that you have to make a stunner first– a work that stops people from just walking by. Then you can say what you want to them. Still, I’ve concluded, it has to be well-conceived, and made beautifully, even if it’s made from stuff we thrown away.
But the connection has to go further. I’m not sure a work of art is really finished until it meets the viewer. Then if you’re lucky, something truly poignant happens. And that “something” may be different each time depending upon what the viewer brings. Just as we have to allow our kids to go into the world eventually, we have to let go of our work to give it autonomy and understand that our original intent is only one interpretation.
Describe your creative space.
I have a lot of light in my studio on the second floor of our home. There are skylights and floor to ceiling windows in part of it, so I almost feel I’m outside (but with heat in winter and A/C in summer!). The place starts off relatively neat, but gets progressively messier as I complete a piece. I prefer the controlled chaos. It says I’m really chugging.
Do you enter juried shows?
Yes, many. I find it helps me to think like a professional and to aim for standards that other artists and jurors have set. The people I exhibit with often become good friends.
I have found that the more shows you enter, the less disturbed you are when you don’t make it in. We all know how many brilliant artists apply to juried shows and how relatively few are accepted to each. Best to keep in mind that the same piece that gets in today may have been the one rejected last time. Jurors often have a mental image of the show they want, and I try not to let their choice be the reflection of the quality of my work.
Where can people see your work?
I have several pieces that are in shows that are touring right now– “Renewal” is going across Canada, “Bearing Witness,” and “Sustainability,” both SAQA shows will be in many venues in the US. Last year I guest curated an exhibition of the work of eleven fiber artists at the Mississippi Valley Textile Museum in Almonte, Ontario. These artists all create with upcycled, used fabrics, and the show has a catalog that can be acquired from the museum.
My work is featured in Dimensional Cloth, Sculpture by Contemporary Textile Artists by Andra Stanton. I have work in the permanent collections of Bell Canada, and FedEx Canada, and the Mark Rothko Art Center in Latvia. And I try to keep current on my website, susanavishai.com, and on instagram, instagram.com/susan_avishai/
What’s the best piece of advice you can offer?
Play. Try to leave the restrictions and responsibilities of adult life outside the door of your workspace, and while you’re at it, leave your critical voice there too. The editing can always come later. Listen for the “yes” that sits on your shoulder, the voice that’s more heart than brain. It’s often shy and tentative, so listen hard. It gets louder as you begin to trust it. Finally, stay open to surprise and serendipity. They are your friends.
Interview posted August 2024
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