Felting
- May 9
- 1 min read
There's been a bit of a hype about felting for a long time now. I see a lot of these long haired fairies and woolly pictures in hobby markets and in Airbnb condos up in the north. Art therapists post about the wonders of wool, that felting is comforting, soft, and soothing. But until my Niva took me by the hand and gave me a needle, I didn't understand the magic.
Felting evokes a collective memory of tribalism, home, community, weaving, something ritualistic. A soothing repetitive action, a connection to a natural material with its own presence and warmth. Working with it brings about an element of control, regulation, and restraint of its rustic wildness.
But for me it's something different. The strong color and material presence allow me to create three-dimensional brushstrokes, a sculptural use of color, which is something I really enjoy doing. Layers that give volume and tone, a depth that builds up above the surface. And on the back of the piece we can witness the dependence, echoes of grip, of clinging to a continuity that can bind and serve as a secure base for every thread.
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