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Not long ago, it would’ve been difficult to imagine knitting and lace-making as revolutionary; such practices were more readily associated with elderly relatives producing quaint Christmas sweaters and tea cozies than with attacking the mainstream paradigm. But as sewing circles have become de rigueur at hipster cafés and coffeehouses, a new crop of resourceful young artists is using traditional handcrafts to address gender, war, globalization and other topical matters—and to reshape common perceptions about textiles. Their heady handiwork is on display in “Radical Lace & Subversive Knitting,” opening this week at the Museum of Arts & Design.
The show is the brainchild of curator David Revere McFadden, who conceived it after judging a Belgian-lace competition in Brussels, a gig he was initially reluctant to accept. “When I first got the invitation, I said, ‘Oh God, this is going to be dreadful,’ ” McFadden recalls. “But I was blown away—I realized a lot of artists were making incredible sculptural works and installation art using knits and lace.”
Upon his return, McFadden began scouring studios, both in New York and around the world, for an exhibition at MAD. He soon discovered a network of talent so large that it was almost impossible to edit the list down to the 27 artists ultimately represented. “We could’ve had 400 artists, but so many of them are working large—the gallery is completely filled with enormous architectural installations, videos, performance art. It cuts across industrial design.”
Spilling out of the museum’s two main floors, the show explores both the personal (as in Barbara Zucker’s Lillian’s Face Flowing, a 14-foot waterfall of black-rubber lace patterns based on the wrinkles on a friend’s face) and the political (Janet Echelman’s The Expanding Club, a three-story lace cloud bearing the colors of every nation with nuclear capability). David Cole’s The Knitting Machine—an American flag crocheted by two John Deere excavators— is so large, it will only be presented as a video installation.
In contrast to these massive compositions, Althea Merback’s miniature sweaters and gloves measure a mere of an inch long and were meticulously stitched using surgical-wire needles. Human-size wardrobe items include Yoshiki Hishinuma’s elaborate shawl and Cole’s evening gown, knit from 879 shredded dollar bills.
Craft Kills, Freddie Robins’s full-size wool body sock, however, would be uncomfortable in the extreme. “It references Saint Sebastian—the arrows martyring him have been replaced by knitting needles martyring me,” says Robins, who calls the piece a self-portrait. “I was considering knitting in a different light. What if it was seen as something dark and dangerous? For a time you weren’t allowed to fly with knitting needles in your carry-on.”
To honor the craft’s communal origins, the museum has also scheduled a number of participatory events, including knit-ins, demonstrations and preliminary trials for the International Speed-Knitting Competition. On Monday 29, Dutch artist Katja Gruijter will host a high tea in which visitors are invited to sample a patchwork of “lace” fashioned from chocolate, genoise, shortbread and other foodstuffs. This spring, antisweatshop activist Cat Mazza will lead a “blanket petition” supporting fair-labor practices in Nike factories, where fabric squares will be fashioned into a 14-foot rendering of the sneaker company’s famous swoosh.)
McFadden believes these artists are stitching their statement because it’s more accessible: “Knitting is about community. It’s about intimate work and sharing.” But he hopes that the exhibit’s irreverence ultimately challenges the medium’s warm-and-fuzzy image. “I want people to come away saying ‘I never thought lace and knitting could be so surprising—so memorable.’ ”
“Radical Lace & Subversive Knitting” runs Thu 25–Jun 17 at the Museum of Arts & Design.
