Chloe Bensahel blends performance, textiles and multimedia to highlight the relationship between language and identity. Inspired by her own inter-generational history of migration, her work investigates narration partnered with material traditions to give way to embodied or coded language. Recent works include collaborations with emerging technologies (Google Jacquard) to allow textiles to speak via touch.
Bensahel was recently awarded a Smithsonian Artist Research Fellowship (2021) to look at the historical relationship between early memory technology (core memory) and metallic lace.
For more information, please see: www.chloebensahel.com and Instagram @chloebensahel.
First, and most importantly, how are you doing? How are you navigating the highs and lows?
I’m pretty good - the discomfort comes in waves. This moment feels very connected to fragility. For some, fragility has been a daily struggle that is finally being seen, and for others it’s being felt for the first time. I recently read letter exchanges between Sol Lewitt and Eva Hesse, “relax and let everything go to hell — you are not responsible for the world — you are only responsible for your work — so DO IT.” It feels good to focus on the work.
I’ve had to adapt a little bit (like everyone I’m sure!) I was supposed to start a fellowship at the Smithsonian in September, which keeps getting rescheduled. I built a tapestry loom to keep working on projects. I also took an arduino programming course. I’m using this space as a moment to reflect and try new things. I’m also trying to make time for rest, taking in the good.
It's my experience that most artists engage with some level of self-isolation in their day to day art practice. Has this been your experience? And if so, have you found these innate rhythms to be helpful during this larger, world-wide experience of isolation?
I like working in isolation in doses, like when I’m weaving or embroidering, after a few hours, the body sort of adapts and does it on its own. I’m actually used to working alongside other people, in a studio or atelier environment. At the Manufacture de Beauvais in Paris, I work in a room with other weavers and students so there are always little chats and technical discussions. In the past months, I’ve been working in DC in a co-working space (Halcyon Arts Lab) so I’m still with other people, startups actually, so the contrast is pretty funny. I feel like a lot of textile work has historically been done in community so I don’t find it natural to work in isolation. For me, the intimacy of textiles is very tied to how they allow us to connect to one another, which has been extremely lacking at the moment. The fact that we can’t touch one another is tragic on so many levels – it’s not a bonus sense. That said, it’s also been really wonderful to have that space alone to reflect on what I want to make, without working towards a show or anything. I’m working on a performance based on touching parts of one’s body to tell one’s history.
It would be great if you could briefly talk us through your practice. Understanding it is integral to appreciating the multivalence of your work.
I work in textiles, performance, and technology to consider language as it relates to the self in this cross-cultural and migratory era. I’m the last of four generations of immigrants, a journey that has taken my family from Algeria all the way to the U.S. via Morocco and France. I’m interested in the complex histories that we all carry in our bodies.
In “Veste Quae Ex, Dobus Texta Est, Non Indueris,” for example, textile labor of stripping and weaving become tools of undoing a long history of stripes as a motif associated with the “impure” or “outsider.” In other instances, the textile gesture becomes the subject of the work, as in “Je Tisse Mon Histoire,” where I undo my own stigmatized labels in favor of an abstract and intertwined one, inspired by the double meaning of “histoire” for story and history. More recent work places gesture and performance at the center of how language becomes narrative through the use of interactive (smart) textile technologies. “Words Weave Worlds” is an interactive tapestry installation made in collaboration with France’s National Tapestry Workshop and Google Arts and Culture, that presents a series of words that are revealed through touch and hearing rather than sight. Such words deal with the positive and negative associations of white, with sound compositions by Caroline Shaw.
Has any of your imagery shifted in a reflection to what's currently happening? And why, or why not?
Early in the pandemic, I saw a bunch of stories about nations writing poems to one another on boxes of medical equipment. Even China and Japan, longtime rivals, sent care packages with beautiful poetry on them. All of the poems were somehow related to a shared sense of purpose. I knew that we would soon go back to being separate nations competing so I did a series of weavings with those embedded poems as a way to capture that moment. Those moments made it clear that people have all of the tools to do the right thing, for the environment, for each other, but they choose differently. It’s not about being educated, or having the information, because it’s there. This idea of choice and selective belief is something I’m going to work more on. Interaction is at the center of that work: creating pieces with changing sounds according to where the hand is places responsibility on the viewer. We are responsible.
Are you thinking differently? Coping differently? Inspired differently?
If I’m honest, I thing that the fatigue of residency hopping and moving around so much these last couple of years has finally hit me. There’s this anxiety sometimes being an emerging artist – you want to follow every opportunity you get, god forbid it all shuts down… and it did! I think I realized that I could survive without running around and that’s pretty empowering. This time has definitely made me want stability in my life. I stepped into Sheila Hicks’ studio a couple of years ago, and I remember thinking, “wow that’s the dream.” It’s time to put some roots down.
What is bringing you solace, or even joy, in this moment?
Watching Shirin Neshat films, techno music, embroidery, my friend Mercedes’ chihuahua Papi Chulo, having a good laugh with my partner.
What research or writing are you doing that you find compelling?
I recently read Stephen Monteiro’s “The Fabric of Interface” – it’s fascinating how intertwined the history of textiles and technology are. Not only did the first computer come out of jacquard loom weaving technologies, but memory technology, innovations in programming. The field of engineering owes a lot to female women of color who did the manual labor necessary for contemporary technology to come about.
Are you reading anything?
I’m about to finish “On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous” by Ocean Vuong. I cried many times. They depict complex emotions with language unlike anyone else, even commenting on the violence of the language of success: ‘killing it,’ ‘slay,’ ‘bag her,’ ‘bomb’.