Textiles have played a special role in the life of American artist Cecilia Charlton ever since she was a child. It should therefore be no surprise that, after learning how to sew and quilt from her mother and grandmother, she would eventually turn to textiles in her creative practice. Nevertheless, there were a few twists and turns along the way!
From engineering to ceramics, jewelry-making, and painting, Cecilia has tried her hand at more than a few types of making. And, now, as a recipient of the Jerwood Art Fund Makers Open, all of that experience is playing out in the form of embroidery.
Creating zig-zagging patterns that mesmerize the eyes and confound our understanding, Cecilia produces stitchwork that isn’t for the faint of heart! Through layered, shape-shifting compositions and auto-biographical titles, she welcomes us into her tactile world with distinctive style — providing a reminder of the potential fiber has for storytelling.
Kinship + Craft connected with Cecilia over Zoom from her studio in London, England, however, the interview was primarily conducted over e-mail. It has been edited for clarity in collaboration with her.
A few things first
K+C — Hello, Cecilia! It’s lovely to connect with you and speak with you about your work. Could you first tell us how you would describe yourself and the work you do?
Hi Lindsay, it is wonderful to connect with you, as well. I am an artist who works with 2-D images, utilizing textile processes to explore geometric patterns as a tool for abstraction. Through my work, I hope to understand the transcendental nature of labor, particularly repetitive labor as seen in the creation of pattern.
K+C — Have textiles been your focus from the beginning, or have you worked with other materials?
Well, yes and no. My mother is a seamstress, so I grew up sewing with her and my sisters. I have always used sewing to create, repair, or alter garments. However, it was not until 2017 that I began to employ textile techniques as a central feature in my art practice.
Prior to my work in painting, which began in 2012, most of my creative mediums had been modes of craft — ceramics, jewelry-making, beading. Particularly my time working with ceramics and studio potters taught me a lot about how to run a studio. For instance, how to maintain a daily presence, or keep a big-picture view of your practice while staying focused on the day-to-day, hour-by-hour real experience of working creatively.
In a studio, the experience runs the gamut from elation to fear, self-doubt, loneliness, shame, confidence, or confusion. There are times when you feel like a genius and times when you feel like the biggest idiot who ever lived. I think navigating these experiences is the crux of maintaining a studio practice. From the outside, it may seem like artists are just having fun all day creating. Nevertheless, it is a really challenging choice to show up every day and commit yourself to it, good or bad. I think this is why I am grateful to have a practice that is so rooted in making. It helps me to weather all the turbulence.
K+C — Yes, I know what you mean. Making something with your hands can often calm the mind or external stressors. You’ve described your process as intuitive. Has your experience with ceramics, jewelry, or painting influenced this and helped you trust your hands more than meticulous planning? Or would you say something else is at play?
I think the intuitive nature of my work is something essential to my character. Intuition is a large part of how I make decisions, even outside of my artwork. My aversion to planning is a benefit to my artwork, I think, but it is a detriment to other things. For example, planning a vacation (haha), or following recipes.
Abstract story-telling
K+C — Oh, wow! I would have thought you planned out your compositions; they look so precise! Building off of that further, I’d like to ask about your visual approach. There are degrees of abstraction in your work through the patterns you employ, resulting in what you refer to as “shape-shifting compositions.” The influence of the bargello technique* is evident, but what else inspires you?
I’m really interested in a pattern’s ability to communicate in a representational way. To animate the inanimate. Maybe this comes from a slightly holistic belief in the energy of objects. I wouldn’t go so far as object-oriented ontology, but there is a visceral experience with the material world that interests me. In art, there is a binary between representational and non-representational art, or figurative and abstract. I think my work sits somewhere in between. It utilizes the formal language of abstraction to speak of something personal and emotive.
*K+C Note: The bargello technique* (or the flame stitch, Hungarian point, Florentine work, and Irish stitch) is a stitching technique in needlework. It is usually created through a series of staggered vertical stitches in different colors, resulting in a flame-like motif. Many other interpretations include diamond-like configurations or waves.
K+C — The story-telling element in your titles is another layer that adds to the mixture of patterns and colors. Could you tell us about your titling process — from where you find inspiration and at what point in your process you apply them to a piece?
My titles are typically autobiographical. While they are perhaps not directly interpretable, my hope is that they add a level of humanity, of personal experience, that the viewer can relate to on an emotional level. In this way, I can reinforce the idea that there is a narrative behind the works, even if the works are abstract in appearance. As an artist, I am really interested in the complexity of human experience, and I rely on my titles to drive that interest home.
K+C — That makes sense that they work in tandem. Some artists enjoy the process of titling their work, while others shy away from it. How do you feel about the process, and does the occasional usage of biographical content change those feelings?
The experience of titling depends on the artwork. The titles generally come about during the process of making, but sometimes I finish an artwork and the title has not yet revealed itself to me. When this happens, I do not really enjoy the process. It feels forced and the titles that result sometimes feel a bit clumsy. But, when I happen upon the exact, perfect title for an artwork, it is very satisfying to know that I have found words to complement and harmonize with the visuals of the artwork.
As an artist, I am really interested in the complexity of human experience, and I rely on my titles to drive that interest home.
An intuitive approach that revels in layering
K+C — Installations also seem to be a big part of your practice. You recently presented an installation at SPACE studios, a gallery in Ilford (East London). Before that, you did a window installation with Robert Young Antiques (RYA) in Battersea (South London). Could you talk a bit about how these projects came to life?
These projects were each quite different in some ways, and similar in others. They were similar in that there was research and a historical underpinning, but the contexts were different.
With the installation at Robert Young Antiques, I was looking at the history of marriage chests and historical textiles processes, combined with Charleston House where Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant lived. This investigation studied the relationships between human expression, surface decoration, intimacy, and textiles. Whereas, the project at SPACE Ilford drew upon the wealth of archaeological history in the borough. Through parallel research into the history of textiles, I wanted to bring cultural foundations that are often overlooked into focus.
The development was a lot like how I find my way through an artwork. At first, I work intuitively and pull together content that initially seems only peripherally connected. Then, through reading, looking, making, and finding connections that relate to the disparate topics. (The nice thing about a making process is that it leaves a lot of time for thinking!)
K+C — Definitely! And, could you tell us how you approach different exhibition spaces using these two as examples? The spaces in which these installations took place differed quite a lot in size, audience accessibility, and the placement density of work.
Well, I think you can guess the answer — intuitively! For both of these projects, the installation method was something that I had never tried before. So, it was an exercise in imagination to visualize the space and picture how I thought and hoped everything would sit.
I first did what I could in my studio to inform myself as to how things would look. For example, I marked out the footprint of the RYA shop window on the floor of my studio so I could make sure that I had enough embroideries, or that the background fabric would cover the wall, etc. This helped me to understand the amount of material I would need. However, the final impact of the installation was something that remained unknown until it took place on-site.
And, with the SPACE Ilford installation, I created sketches of each wall. But, again, this mostly helped determine the size of each element, and I didn’t see the ultimate effect until after I hung the work.
K+C — That makes sense that there was an element of surprise, especially as some of the embroideries were co-created with local residents, too.
Dimensions: 250 x 265 x 95 cm. | Photograph courtesy of Cecilia Charlton.
To me, layering allows me to achieve a greater degree of visual complexity. Not only with the installations, but also with the embroideries that I layer over gilded panels. I really enjoy that the works confound the viewer’s ability to know what they are looking at, where the colors are coming from, or how it was made.
K+C — I wish I had seen both the show at SPACE and the window installation at Robert Young. They seemed like such fun undertakings! Moreover, they felt like lovely opportunities. Considering how you combine colors, patterns, allegories, biographical content, and spatial elements, the usage of layering seems to be the connecting thread. (Please forgive the term). So, what would you say layering allows you to do?
To me, layering allows me to achieve a greater degree of visual complexity. Not only with the installations, but also with the embroideries that I layer over gilded panels. I really enjoy that the works confound the viewer’s ability to know what they are looking at, where the colors are coming from, or how it was made. I am interested in subverting our expectations that something can be known, or even that it should be.
As Einstein said: “The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honours the servant and has forgotten the gift.” As there is no singular way to define a person, experience, or event, encouraging a more multifaceted way of understanding may be a way forward.
K+C — And is the work you’ve been developing for the Jerwood Art Fund Makers Open, showing in January 2022, an extension of this thought?
I would say so. Central to the artwork at Jerwood is a reflection on our (humanity’s) place in the cosmos. A realization that we have been in existence for such a short amount of time, and a consideration of the role we play. What do we mean as individuals, as a species? Perhaps every generation feels this way, but it seems that we are in a moment that begs us to restructure our view of ourselves and to make some important decisions.
K+C — Thank you so much for sharing your work with us, Cecilia. It has been lovely connecting with you.
