Delicate white lace on black cardboard isn’t the kind of street art you typically find in Berlin, but this striking contrast of soft and rough – like a flower pushing through concrete – works beautifully. The creator behind this unique style, known as Textile Street Art, emerged onto the scene during the pandemic.
Since then, she’s been embellishing Berlin’s walls, co-founding and coordinating the Berlin PasteUp movement, all while championing women’s- and LGBTQ+ rights. We sat down with this bold artist to discuss the intricate craft of lacemaking, gatekeeping in the street art scene, and how she continues to empower queer and female artists.
There’s a lot of mediocre men doing the same work and they’re getting the validation and the sponsorship.
Mixing lace and paste-up is very unique in the scene. How did you come up with that?
Being a textile artist is extremely difficult. Textile artists have been overlooked within the art community for a long time because it usually comes from women. It was often the only outlet women had: knitting, crochet, painting, making ceramics.
I’ve been working with threads, like knitting and crocheting, for a very long time and I always really loved it. In 2020 we were all kind of sent home, and that’s when I took out my supply of yarns and threads and started creating all these [pieces]. I also had all these boxes at home, because everything was being delivered, so I put them together and started leaving them on the street on my daily walks.
Can you tell us about lacemaking?
The type of lace I do is called tatting. I learned it several years ago, back home in Chicago. I went to the lacemakers guild, and there were all these old ladies and they were all trying to teach me, and it just didn’t stick. When I moved to Berlin, I brought it all in my box, all my yarns and my knitting needles, and in 2020, I kind of rediscovered it.
It’s a very steep learning curve with this type of lace. With knitting and crocheting, if you make a mistake, you pull the needle, and you can go back. With this type of lace, if you make a mistake, you simply have to cut it. It really helped me quiet my mind because you have to be in a very quiet mind space to be able to create this.
How did you end up in Berlin?
My partner and I came here for a two-year project. Then we fell in love with the city and decided to stay. I came from a very high-strung corporate environment in Chicago. When we moved to Berlin, I was able to put that aside and just have some quiet time for myself. I travelled a lot, and I was taking care of myself.
You are a big advocate of LGBTQ+ and BIPoC causes. How do you address that in your art?
It’s called a chosen family for a reason. The community has been a place to really be able to be yourself and find joy. I met some wonderful people that have supported me through this journey into street art. Once everything shut down, that’s when I thought, I need to really show up for the community. Especially because many of them work in the entertainment business.
I asked who needed what and tried to help. That’s when I became closer with Tipsy Bear bar, the House of Percents, the House of Living Colors, Venus Boys, The Darvish, and so many great artists that I got to really connect with. Tipsy Bear gave me the opportunity to [design] a massive wall in their bathroom. It was very important for me to bring the community to these walls, so you don’t just see pieces from the street art community but from the queer community within Berlin.
How do you see the position of women in street art?
I’m gonna have to make you sign an NDA! Well, first and foremost, I believe some of the concern is the safety of it all. I’ve been asked to come and jump the train lines and go do graffiti at three in the morning, and usually I don’t know that person well enough to trust them with that. Also, I don’t have an EU passport and am also a visible woman of colour … I believe that there’s some amazing women artists doing amazing work. There’s a lot of mediocre men doing the same work and they’re getting the validation and the sponsorship. Some people have said to me: “What’s the point of you and what’s the point of your art?”
Some of that, obviously, is trying to keep you in your place. But I also came from corporate, so I’m like, okay, let’s do this. But it can be very demoralising. There’s a lot of gatekeeping, too, and sadly a lot of gatekeeping has been done by women. They made it to the top and are protecting their position. So it takes a very strong backbone to just keep doing this.
What do you want people to take away from your art? Does it remind many of their grandmothers?
Yes, exactly, and that’s what I want. I want people to think about the women in their lives. I want them to think about this tiny little presence that they left behind, about the sacrifices they made, about the love. We’re all connected. There’s like, one little thread that connects us all. I just want them to think back about a moment in time when they were just so naive and full of joy.
Do you ever sell any of your pieces?
I have sold pieces, but it has all gone to a non-profit. I’m in a very lucky place that I’ve been able to donate it. My partner and I have made some choices and decisions, and now I’m able to just focus on this.
Is your partner also involved in the scene?
Oh, he is – you know, carrying ladders, holding buckets, reviewing spreadsheets and all that stuff. Also, to be able to rant to somebody is always very special.
Do your pieces ever get stolen?
Yes. I feel like if you go through the effort to take it down, then you really want it, and I am not offended. I learned the art of letting go a long time ago, and that sometimes has to apply to your art. Once in a while, people tell me that they have it at home and that makes me extra happy. Art is for everybody! I could go higher and I could use a stronger glue, and then the whole thing could be there for years – and then is it for everybody or is it just for my own benefit?
What do you find hardest being in the scene?
I find it hard to not be able to bring more people along with me. But you simply cannot do that, either because of different styles, different schedules, lifestyles, traumas, points of view. And sometimes I wish we would be like, “Let’s go on this journey together and make pieces of art and then go dancing,” but that’s not possible, and I find that a little bit hard.
But maybe we will get there… It’s just not an easy road to travel. I’m a visible immigrant. I’m a visible woman of colour. I identify as a queer person. So I’m like, all right, let’s go, because what else is there left? I just have to keep pushing this. And the one thing I will not do is walk into a place and close the door behind me. I will hold the door open to let more queer artists and women in.
- Keep up with Textile Street Art’s work on Instagram.
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