For my project, I wanted to make a bojagi tapestry as a way of reconnecting with my Korean heritage. Having lived in Chile ever since I was born, I didn’t have much exposure to Korean culture, traditions, and history, but through this course I was able to learn about bojagi. The geometric shapes and airy translucency of the fabrics used in many traditional bojagi caught my eye. The way the light shines through the cloth also reminded me of stained glass and how it historically was used as a decorative means of storytelling through intricate designs and various colors. I wanted to take that concept and apply it in the form of bojagi, as well as embrace the collage/scrapbook-like quality of the patchworking nature of this artform.
I wanted the overall tapestry to look like separate but connected fragments of my memories of family and home, which I attempted to portray through faded old photos printed onto white fabric. The other pieces of fabric were similarly translucent and of varying “shades” of white or near-white colors. I had also saved a sheet of paper-like fabric with a traditional Korean print on it that, if I recall correctly, came from some sort of packaging for fruit. By including this paper fabric, it really felt as though I was creating a sort of scrapbook, where I decoratively put small artifacts or mementos as part of a whole collection of other memories.
The embroidered portions were meant to be more like symbols as well as decorative. During my gap year in Korea this past year, I learned that Koreans have so many different ways of eating and preparing persimmons, and so there are multiple ways of calling the fruit. Persimmons are also one of the fruits that I associate with a lot of memories of my family, so I wanted to incorporate it onto the bojagi. The lotus roots also hold a lot of significance to me, specifically in the bond I have with my dad, whom I had had some trouble understanding and bonding with prior to my gap year in Korea.
I wanted my tapestry to be larger, both in width and length, but due to time constraints I was unable to reach that size. I underestimated the time it took to assemble the entire bojagi, especially because I did not have a set plan or draft of how I wanted the overall layout to look like. I decided that I liked the more “do as you go” sort of methodology that is often done in scrapbooking. There was still a bit of planning because I had to make sure I spaced out the different fabrics well enough and because I had to make sure the rectangles of fabric would fit together nicely like puzzle pieces. Yet, I did not restrict myself by establishing a defined, detailed course of action in order to hone into the free and calm manner that memories come as they do.
Using the embroidery machine for the first time was challenging, as it took me some time to learn about how and why certain problems arose, like the size of the pattern being embroidered would often cause the thread to break. I also faced a few issues when sewing the bojagi pieces together on the sewing machine. I had to sew very close to the edges, so sometimes I’d stray too far into the fabric or too far out and sew the air instead. Some seams also got too thick for the sewing machine to go through it or the folds of the fabric were not staying in place the way I wanted them to, so I had to hand-sew them. I liked this problem I faced, though, because it made me try out stitching it in the traditional way that bojagi is hand-sewn and also gives it a slightly different look, as part of the stitching becomes visible.
Overall, I am very pleased with how my tapestry turned out. I was afraid I was not going to be able to achieve the airy and clean look that I associate bojagi with, but I was able to sew and piece the fabrics together. There were some wrinkles here and there that arose due to the way I sewed them on the machine, so I think that if I were to do it all by hand, I might not encounter the same issue as much. Or if I more meticulously planned and measured my pieces of fabric, I may have encountered fewer rough seams.
For the past week, I have been familiarizing myself with hand embroidering and brainstorming/sketching designs that I would like to hand or machine embroider onto my bojagi piece. Most recently, I began sketching branches, leaves, and persimmons on Adobe Illustrator to potentially use it for machine embroidering. I’m waiting to see how machine embroidering may or may not work on more transparent fabrics like ramie to see if machine embroidering is a tool that will be useful for me.
I’m still brainstorming ideas for the overall layout of the bojagi. I feel like my mind has been very scattered with this idea, so I need some more time to sit down and focus on painting a better picture of what it is that I ultimately want to create.
Until my fabrics arrive, I will fully develop my bojagi layout and finish drafting the illustrations for embroidery.
]]>Having lived in Chile for most of my life and then moving to Pittsburgh for college, I have always felt a sort of distance and estrangement from Korean culture. My parents have always made huge efforts to teach my brother and me Korean and about Korean culture, traditions, history, etc., but there is still so much that I don’t even know that I don’t know…
Prior to taking this class, I had seen bojagi before but never knew what it was called, what it was used for, its history. But upon learning more about this familiar-looking piece of Korean culture, I became more interested in it. For my final project, I want to explore the craft of making bojagi and make some designs that tie in my bonds and memories with my family together through bojagi.
My preliminary idea for my project is multiple hanging sheets of bojagi. Bojagi reminds me of stained glass windows, so I’m considering taking the idea of how stained glass windows historically have been used for storytelling and implementing it to my bojagi sheets in the form of my memories of and bonds to my family and Korean culture. I’m currently also considering including some embroidery onto the sheets.
Tue. 11/23 – Sat. 11/27
Sun. 11/28 – Fri. 12/03
Sat. 12/04 – Tue. 12/07
Wed. 12/08
People build around and/or with nature, more so than building over it. For instance, with sea levels having risen significantly due to climate change, more coastal cities build homes, offices, parks, etc. on water. Previously predominantly grey cities incorporate much more greenery into their buildings and streets, like through vertical farming or through decorative means. Also, since so much of our services will have become virtual and gone online –such as malls or shopping malls– the physical spaces that used to provide their respective services are obsolete and abandoned. More of these spaces have been overtaken by nature. Mother nature is reclaiming her space by spreading itself and growing over buildings, statues, public transportation, cars, etc. Unfortunately, we still have a lot of non-recyclable trash (e.g. old computers, car tires, many plastics) that litter our spaces. But there is a sort of “acceptance” of these things that were useful once to let them be as they are now; not everything has to or even can be upcycled/recycled/modified in order to be useful again. Some things just exist and blatantly remain as waste in our environments, but we still don’t stop trying to find beauty hidden within them.
For far too long, consumers have been restrained by how companies design, manufacture, and sell their products. Companies for far too long had been designing to sell rather than to last or renew. Legally, companies are required to design with the disposal or a product in mind, design for it to be easily discarded, reused, recycled, or upcycled. The same goes for packaging. This empowers consumers to be able to choose what to do with the products they buy when they have served their useful purpose and need to be disposed of. Consumers are also empowered because more individuals can make their own products, such as furniture, houseware, clothing, etc. at home. Technology on 3D printing, growing plants and other organic, natural materials, and many other kinds of manufacturing methods has significantly progressed such that it has become available to the general public. Consumers now depend less on how big corporations design, sell, and manufacture their products.
3D printing has already been a growing area in technology, but the most recent development is the commercialization of 3D printers for clothes. People can order clothing designs online rather than the physical garments themselves and make their clothes at home. Several more industries have incorporated 3D printing into their businesses, making this technology commercially available and accessible to a great majority of the population.
Inevitably, more technology has become embedded into our lives, and one way it has been done in fashion is by making use of AR technology. Consumers can try on clothes through AR by looking through a screen how different garments would fit over their bodies without having to try the clothes on physically. This can be done in the comfort of one’s home, rendering physical shops even more obsolete but remain more as “the vintage way of shopping.” In addition to changes in how we shop for clothes, the garments themselves have codes that can be read to show animations and special effects through your phone screen as a way of merging the endless possibilities that the virtual world can provide and that the real world cannot.
However, because of growing concerns of climate change, people have been incorporating more nature into their lives every day in any way possible. As technology improves and further permeates through our lives, growing our own clothes has become an equally large presence in our society. Through biocouture, for instance, people can more easily grow full pieces of clothing or parts of garments.
Regardless of the remarkable progress made in technology thus far, there is still a sort of “nostalgia” for how things used to be several decades, or even centuries, ago. There is a “conflicting” dynamic between a desire to return to how things were in the past versus the fast-paced developing technologies of today (i.e. the future). Fashion shows in virtual reality worlds are juxtaposed with individuals returning to hand sewing, knitting, weaving, etc. their own garments. New clothing lines using the latest, newest, revolutionary, sustainable materials emerge while other smaller businesses sell handmade clothes made from upcycled, nonrenewable materials.
Even our cities feel too new, too current, too modern, so there has been a growing trend where people start living further away from cities towards more rural locations. Since so much of our world is online and virtual, it is easier to stay remote while still being connected and “in the loop” with everything that is happening around the world. The high-stress of living in such fast-paced, densely populated cities has reached a point where people crave how spaces used to in the past: more green and natural, less grey and artificial. As such, living in more rural locations where there is less city noise, artificial lighting, pollution, etc. has become more desirable.
One of the biggest inspirations for my weaving is one of the weavings from a past student of this course, which we saw in class. It is the one with the red warp threads and metal pieces at the bottom. This weaving made me think of wind chimes. This then made me think of how fabric moves when wind blows on it. The flowing movement reminded me of water, the ocean, so I decided to draw inspiration from the sea and everything related to it. For instance, the more obvious inspirations came from the colors –blues and some greens and white. But I also thought about water caustics –the way the bright, warm sun causes those irregular, dancing reflections of light underwater. I wanted to find ways to incorporate all of those aspects of the ocean to turn the weaving into more of an immersive experience than just a piece of fabric to look at.
Regarding that “immersive experience,” I initially pondered about how it would feel like to walk through an installation of tall, long, flowy weavings. However, due to time constraints, I realized that that project idea would be too ambitious for me to accomplish, so I decided to keep my weaving small but still incorporate that 3D aspect that I originally thought of.
The first few inches of my weaving were purely an experimentation and familiarization process, not thinking much about color or form; it was more for skill-building and practice. But as soon as I constructed an image of what I wanted to make for my final weaving, I split up the warp threads into 5 sections to make 5 different weavings that I would later assemble into a “wind chime.” This part of my weaving was also highly experimental. I realized that I often get too caught up in my own perfectionist tendencies, so I decided to let my fingers weave fluidly as ideas came to me, rather than planning every detail of my weaving from the get-go. I figured that if I wanted to portray the fluidity and calm of the ocean, maybe I should also try to adopt the same sort of mindset while weaving.
Because of how highly experimental my entire process was, I feel like I was able to embody that acceptance of fluidity and slightly messy experimentation that resembles the fluctuating nature of the ocean. The fact that my warp thread increasingly got looser and looser the further down I went along my weaving also contributed to the irregularity of my weaving. Moreover, because I was weaving five separate sections simultaneously, I could vary the “patterns” and shapes I weaved along the lengths of the weaving and beat them with my fingers rather than with the shuttle. Something else that helped me convey the flowy nature of the sea was the not-spooled wool that I used. I really liked the texture and diversity in volume it added to my weaving, as I tried to keep as much of the texture intact as possible. I also realized that instead of applying it in a regular weave, using it with soumak made better use of its voluminous shape.
I did not want to use the first few inches of weaving where I was mainly practicing different techniques, but this portion was too close to the 5-sectioned portion that I did want to use, so I had to needle-felt that intersection in order to keep both portions of my weaving intact after separating them. I fortunately had the perfect amount of plain weave at the starts of each of my 5 smaller sections of weaving to needle-felt and then loop to fit a dowel through for hanging. This almost felt miraculous to me, as it worked out so much more smoothly than I thought it would prior to Olivia advising me to needle-felt.
I would have liked to have woven longer, wider strands, because my weaving felt very small and could not, therefore, really induce much of an “immersive experience” as I would have liked. Scale could improve how much viewers can sense the feelings and experiences I wanted to portray through my weaving.
I also would like to vary the lengths of each weaving section more to further lean into that theme of irregularity. The fact that I had to needle-felt one edge of all 5 sections of weaving did feel a little limiting in how I wanted to vary the length at which the weaving would hang from the dowels. I would still incorporate needle-felting for some pieces, but having a few other pieces hang from the dowels through the warp threads instead would have also been an interesting way of adding irregularity to my weaving.
Because I was initially intending to make my weaving a wind chime, I wanted to embrace the ocean theme and use recycled glass for the chime portion of my weaving. I initially thought of breaking a tinted glass bottle and sanding the pieces myself, but due to time constraints, I did not manage to do that. I also considered somehow incorporating a “DIY” ocean drum into the wind chime to further embody the sea in an auditory sense. In order to make my weaving an immersive experience and not just a visual installation, I wanted to incorporate sound.
However, after hearing what my peers commented on my (“mute wind chime”) weaving, I realized that maybe not having incorporated any sound-causing components was a better choice. Someone mentioned that despite my weaving being very silent, they could still somehow “feel” sound coming from it, which was very interesting to me. I had not intended to instigate that sort of experience from anyone viewing my weaving. I really like that notion of being able to incite feelings or senses that are not actually explicitly present but that can be just felt from other external cues that the piece of work contains. I hope to further explore different ways to achieve this in future projects.
The Woven Cosmos exhibition presented work by the artist and industrial designer Hella Jongerius earlier this year in Berlin, Germany. Jongerius’ work examines the possibilities in which the textile industry can become more sustainable and thus poses the idea of using weaving to create 3D structures that can be used in architecture and even in sustainable energy technology. Using a multiaxial loom, she has woven several prototypes, such as bricks, foldable cubes, and solar fibers that can unfurl when the sun shines. The kinds of materials used are not listed. However, the focus of these works shown is more on the possibilities this new way of weaving brings and on the exploration of how the weaving itself can provide enough strength and rigidity without the need of additional structural support. Although 3D weaving is still a newly developing practice, these woven structures show a lot of promise and hope that the ancient art of weaving can still be transformed and adapted to address our current, ever-changing society.