Elizabeth Schweizer
In The Metropolitan Museum of Art is a Yupik parka by Edna Oktokiyuk that makes me pause. Strips of dried seal intestine are delicately stitched together to protect a hunter from the wind and snow. Beaks and feathers from the native auklet adorn the garment, and polar bear fur trims the cuffs. Each animals’ life and contribution is honored as a gift. In its presence, one feels the outpouring of care with which it was constructed. It reminds me that objects are containers for meaning. I approach my work with this perspective in mind; offering care and attention to materials and to those around me. I am curious about how objects hold stories. I am dedicated to material processes as a way to re-enchant us with ourselves, our communities, and our environment.
My background is in weaving, and I feel connected to this process as a way of relating to material both physically and metaphorically. The magic of weaving is in its ability to use the same simple principles to create infinite variations and structures. Its meaning emerges in the time and proximity that we dedicate to material; the ways we run each thread through our hands until a cloth emerges. We weave to warm, to protect, to love, to be human. I approach all materials with this lens, and with the intention of weaving together disparate matter. Currently I feel enamored with metalworking. I am attracted to the ways metal acquiesces to and resists our manipulation, intrigued by how bending, tearing, stretching, squishing, and grinding it becomes a dance.It feels related to weaving, to quilting, to being in community with others. Anni Albers says, “we learn to listen to voices: to the yes and no of our material, our tools, our time. We come to know that only when we feel guided by them our work takes on form and meaning, that we are misled when we follow only our will…. Formed things and thoughts live a life of their own. They radiate a meaning.”