Common Thread at the Art Fairs: Nicholas Hlobo, Jessica Rankin, Sara Rahbar

Nicholas Hlobo, [anybody know the title?]

I had a romance with textile works before, but after seeing some of the works at the art fairs I’m absolutely in love with threads. These three pieces struck me as using textile well. Unfortunately the stills I made from video (after my camera died!) are pretty horrific, so let me explain that above Nicholas Hlobo stitched on thick cream paper with thread that wandered across the surface picking up detritus like the surgical mask in the bottom left corner. It took up a huge space at the Michaela Stevensona Gallery booth at the Armory.

Also at the Armory, Jessica Rankin stitches, or rather creates a kind of delicate tapestry, of glittering dark threads with words interspersed below.

Jessica Rankin, Dark Star

Detail shot of the words, left, show how well integrated they are in the piece, and also what a nice shadow they created on the wall behind. WhiteCube Gallery says the artist’s work features a series of ‘mental maps’, with codes, signs and symbols that explore ideas of memory, intuition and interpretation.

The threads in these works were delicate tendrils, trying to hold things together in a bare palette. Then with a joy I saw flag by Sara Rahbar at Pulse Art Fair. The Iranian artist often works with flags to deal with the meaning of culture on an individual level. Here she collaged thick decorative floral patterns over the American flag. The artist works with themes of identity, location, country, so perhaps it is not so far fetched that this work by an Iranian artist who grew up in the United States should speak to me about my trip to Mexico, which, by the by, is going splendidly.

Sara Rahbar, The Fortune Teller (Flag #25), 2008

Weaving for the Future: Anni Albers

Albers, 1925

Albers, 1925
Speaking of color theory and Bauhaus, another artist who caught my eye at MoMA’s exhibition was Anni Albers (wife of Josef). Albers produced textiles that explore color values and composition as well as the technical properties of fabric. She began study at the Bauhaus in 1922. Being female, she was denied access to disciplines like glass (taught by her future husband) and architecture, so the artist turned to weaving. Her initial reluctance disappeared and she grew to love the medium. A focus on production rather than craft at the Bauhaus prompted Albers to develop many functionally unique textiles with qualities such as light reflection, sound absorption, durability, and minimized warping.

Albers is probably one of the most prominent textile artists. In her own day– before the more recent Feminist movement to reclaim the domestic arts as Art– she received recognition for her work. She updated traditional textiles with modern technologies and process of consumption, and she united the craft and art worlds in her designs. These two accomplishments are tenets of the Bauhaus school, optimistic mandates intended to create a better modern world that remain relevant in design today. I can’t help but think that Alber’s career presaged another still relevant Modern trend–that of the successful female artist.

Albers, 1926

Feminist Fabric


Byzantine Grid, 2005

Fabric is feminine. Despite the male tapestry makers of the 17th c. or the male weavers of the 19th c., fabric is associated with the feminine and the decorative (i.e. lesser) arts. Long overlooked, textiles, such as quilts and embroidery, have only recently come to prominence as an art form spurred by the acceptance of crafts as artwork and the nudge of the feminist movement.

Detail of Byzantine Grid

Byzantine Grid is a traditional brocade, except that instead of being woven, it has been painted with thousands of tiny strokes to imitate an aged piece of cloth. At 90 inches high by 180 inches wide, it’s larger than the wall of my bedroom. While it’s detail and delicacy cuaght my eye, I also like how the artist deconstructs a ‘feminine’ art and remakes it as a fine art piece.

It makes a statement as it hangs in the gallery, one about women remaking patriarchal tradition in their own, modern way to create an object that demands to be placed next to the Jackson Pollacks of the world. Friedmann deconstructs traditionally feminine crafts of lace making and fabric, even while playing into traditional ideas of the feminine. These images of Friedmann’s work are from 2003, but she has more recent work based on fabrics on her website. Check out the small works from 2005.


She Muttered, 2003

According to the artist, “I manipulate symbols that deal with ideas about femininity and the role of women in art history. I draw and paint and present these issues in an over the top gorgeous way. Among some of my interests are Spanish colonial art and Minimalism. I paint some of the things that women have been historically associated with, like flowers lace and embroidery. I monumentalize them and give them a heroic place and scale that can remind one of high macho modern art.”

Friedmann is hardly the only feminist who has reclaimed textiles as part of the fine arts. Along with many of the decorative arts, textiles have come to the forefront as ignored crafts with a visual language that has been ignored up until recently. The new Museum of Art and Design at Columbus Circle would hardly have been possible without this emergence. My posts have a bit of a feminist slant lately, but only because you see these things everywhere once you start looking. And by things, I mean beautiful and interesting objects and people.

Detail of She Muttered, 2003