Raechel Cook: A Walk through Cynthia Schira’s Etymon

Grand gates at the entrance
with arms swinging wide open,
framing a sheer dark fabric with specks of white.

It beckons me to draw close,
as it quivers with the currents of air,
one of many cloth pieces
pouring from the ceiling
and hovering just above the floor.

It is situated among other opaque panels
with black marks on white ground.
Only from close proximity,
is the woven nature apparent.

The forms conceal and reveal.
Some panels are sewn back to back,
while others divulge the two-sided nature of cloth.

The content abstracts and obscures,
like reading a newspaper
with a small magnifying lens.

I pass over the gate’s threshold,
into a forest of fabric.

The width of the room
consumes the field of vision.
On the back wall text appears,
white words on a black ground,
the language of fabric, weaving, and collecting.

The black-painted canvas mat on the floor reads, “Showing,”
in stenciled capital letters.

To the left and right are open spaces,
signaling different but interrelated places.

In the deep right corner,
scraps of fabrics, samples and notes
all collaged on the wall.
A worktable holds more of the same,
scattered and uncategorized .

The black painted canvas mat on the floor reads, “Making,”
in stenciled capital letters.

On a computer monitor,
patchy horizontal bands of colors
vibrate quickly across the screen.
Paired with the vertical motion of machinery,
the camera angle changes.
It is the conception of fabric on a loom.

Turning around to face the opposite wall,
my eye meets a repetitious puzzle of black and taupe.
This weaving engulfs architecture,
in signs and symbols
in shapes and forms,
a map to follow
a letter to read.

In the deep left corner,
objects housed in cylinders wrapped, tied, and tagged
all stored on the wall.
A wooden repository holds more of the same,
organized and categorized.

The black painted canvas mat on the floor reads, “Saving,”
in stenciled capital letters.

On a low black pedestal,
crisp patterns in blue and white
rhythmically pulse across the weft.
The strips stitched together,
the cloth has been cut from the loom.

Turning around to face the opposite wall,
my eye meets a repetitious puzzle of boxes and numbers.
Vessels for storage line the wall,
of all shapes and sizes
a vase for flowers
a kettle for tea
a basket for barley
and moccasins for feet .

Here, the journey through is complete.

 

Advertisements

Tags: , , , ,

Trackbacks / Pingbacks

  1. The Etymon - July 19, 2014

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: