Responding to global and national uncertainty, Terri Friedman’s work documents the climate of anxiety and instability with fiber. How do we live with heartbreak and gratitude at the same time? Dread and Hope? For Friedman it’s all about neuroplasticity. The brain, which we thought for centuries was inflexible and unchanging, unable to create new neural pathways after childhood or trauma, is actually able to grow new pathways. Even gratitude practiced over time can rewire the brain. Brain Science, Neuroplasticity, as well as Epigenetics (gene expression is affected by environment) are all growing fields that impact her life and work.
Friedman is interested in the awkward, uncertain, chromatic, complicated, imperfect, theatrical, and ornate because it mirrors the unhinged world we live in and the vulnerable human experience. Her work is an attempt to make senseof personal and world events through color, abstraction, and words. Her weavings are somatic posters of urgency.
She lives in the San Francisco Bay area with her family and is an Associate Professor at the California College of the Arts.
For more information, please see: TerriFriedman.com and on Instagram @terrifriedman_studio.
Terri Friedman, ALIVE, 2021. Cotton, wool, acrylic, chenille, metallic fibers. 90 x 75 in. Photo: Josef Jacques.
First, and most importantly, how are you doing? How are you navigating the highs and lows?
Thank you for asking. I think we don’t ask each other this often enough right now. I managed triage initially in March 2020: the shock, disappointments, and losses. Navigating all this with 2 teenagers was ‘hard and weird and sad’ (Anne Lamott). I think this pandemic has really taken a toll on the mental and social health of teenagers and children. My oldest son, who is living at home this year on a gap year, was graduating high school last May and was supposed to graduate and go to college - lots of disappointments. My studio is in my front yard and my college classes that I teach are on zoom. For the year, I went through waves of feeling anxious and unsettled and had to remind myself to feel grateful. The election (phew), the insurrection, the fires last fall (I live in a high fire zone), preparing for possible evacuations, COVID, remote teaching, climate change, social inequities, and more. And now, the re-entry though hopeful, is very unsettling, too. Some are vaccinated; some won’t be which kind of freaks me out. I have yet to get on a plane. That said, I certainly grew to appreciate the small things: clean air, having toilet paper, short lines at my Natural Grocer, swimming at my local pool 3x a week in my very own COVID lane, zooming with friends and family and students, being with my family, and frankly, just surviving. I admit it’s been a guilty pleasure to have my teenagers at home this year. They should really be far away from me right now. Let’s just say I’ve been navigating the highs and lows with little grace. I have little reserves lately. Today, I threw a banana at my 16-year-old for her breakfast because I was angry that she was glued to her phone and not listening to me. Not my normal behavior. On the other hand, there have been some really beautiful connections with kids and friends, as well as the really ugly ones too. I’ve had to give myself a COVID pass and a lot of forgiveness.
Terri Friedman, You Don’t Get To Know, 2021. Cotton, wool, acrylic, chenille, metallic fibers. 78 x 68 in. Photo: Josef Jacques.
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 am an introvert, so I love that I don’t have to be socially available or commute in traffic to my teaching job several days a week. I’ve missed a handful of solo and group shows this year because I couldn’t travel to them. I had planned trips to NYC, Amsterdam, and more that were all canceled. I was sad, but also relieved as I’m an anxious traveler. Part of me has been content as I don’t have any social pressure and have permission to indulge in my isolation. Honestly, the isolation in my studio has not changed. I have a very solitary practice in general. And actually my weaving has been my refuge or medicine during this stressful time as has my family. Though my ‘commute’ to my front yard studio is nice too.
Terri Friedman, IN/HALE/EX, 2019. Cotton, wool, acrylic, chenille, metallic fibers. 130 x 75 in. Photo: Josef Jacques.
It would be great if you could briefly talk us through your practice. Understanding it is integral to appreciating the multivalence of your work.
Before I started weaving, I made kinetic sculptures, paintings, and installations. I think in 3D, so I like to fill a room in my mind. I always envision a body of work. The pieces are all relational. I think in color, pattern, and texture. After researching and writing about the content of the work and often selecting a word which serves as a guide for the piece, I can spend weeks sketching the composition and planning my warp patterns. I bought an iPad Pro and Apple pen last year so it has made my life so much easier. I use the app Procreate which allows me to play around with composition, color, and more. I can distort shapes and words, move around parts of the composition, and change parts that aren’t working as I weave. I cut and paste sections on the loom with the drawings to see how a finished piece might look. It has been a game changer because the process of weaving is so unforgiving. It’s not like a painting which you can paint over if it’s not working. At the very end of this process I grid out the work and make notes on the side directing me to fibers, textures, thicknesses, colors. The work looks spontaneous, but it’s actually highly planned. As for fibers, I am a hoarder of fibers, so I have dozens of large clear plastic containers filled by color and some by brand, fiber, or texture. Once I’ve selected probably 50+ fibers that I might need, I place them on a large studio table to have them accessible. Now I warp my loom and begin. I follow my graphed drawing though remain open to reworking parts as I progress. So, it’s a balance between following my drawing and having a ‘growth mindset’ and not being attached to the drawing if it’s not working out. The last part of my practice is selecting my Spotify playlist or podcasts. This sets the tone for the day.
Terri Friedman, IF ONLY, 2020. Cotton, acrylic, chenille, hemp, metallic, wool fibers. 86 x 103 in. Photo: Josef Jacques.
Has any of your imagery shifted in a reflection to what's currently happening? And why, or why not?
My work has always responded to the world around me. So, that has not changed. I just happen to be thinking about the pandemic and my white privilege lately. So, I’m exploring that in my work. I work abstractly, so I don’t have imagery that has shifted so much as palette and composition. The new work is much more complex and layered. I was so inspired by the Rosie Lee Tompkin’s exhibition at BAMPFA. I’m looking at quilting and patchworking in my work. Not literally, but pictorially. I also have been revisiting Sister Corita Kent’s protest posters and large murals and love the marriage of words, abstraction, and scale. And for some reason, I’m obsessed with plaid and have been incorporating plaid into my work. By layering abstraction and words layered upon the plaid, it makes the work more three dimensional. I love the juxtaposition of the geometric repetitive plaid next to the organic woven shapes and words.
Terri Friedman, 2020, 2020. Cotton, wool, acrylic, chenille, metallic fibers. 60 x 36 in. Photo: Josef Jacques.
Terri Friedman, EXHALE, 2021. Cotton, wool, acrylic, chenille fibers. 39 x 32 in. (with threads). Photo: Josef Jacques.
Are you thinking differently? Coping differently? Inspired differently?
I do think I am coping differently. I have had to be a warrior about self-care, or I think I would have fallen apart this year. I’ve been paying attention to eating nourishing foods, exercise, daily meditation, sleep hygiene. On the other hand, I did realize last week that I am in my studio too much (sounds like a humble brag). But, actually I’ve been ignoring my family and friends. I think Covid has given me a pass to isolate. I think isolation has been an escape and remedy for all my anxiety lately. I need to find more balance. I am inspired differently. I think I am more aware of the fragility of all of us. The collective grief of all the losses this year. Not only human loss, but job, opportunity, lifestyle, and human connection loss.
Terri Friedman, ENOUGH, 2019. Cotton, wool, acrylic, chenille, metallic fibers. 77 x 72 in. Photo: Josef Jacques.
What is bringing you solace, or even joy, in this moment?
Being vaccinated! Our nine-month-old pandemic puppy, Soba (though he is a lot of work). Swimming 3x a week outdoors in our local solar heated pool. I’ve actually been swimming mid-winter in the rain which I have never done and it has been exhilerating. Shopping at the Monterey Market for food, then cooking. My family. Social distance walks with friends. My studio for sure, and now eating outdoors at restaurants with family and friends. Knowing that after 1 ½ years of not seeing her, I will see my mom this summer and be able to actually hug her.
Terri Friedman, Are We Listening, 2020. Cotton, wool, acrylic, chenille, metallic fibers. 65 x 40 in. Photo: Josef Jacques.
Terri Friedman, NO, 2020. Cotton, wool, acrylic, chenille, metallic fibers. 63 x 37 in. Photo: Josef Jacques.
What research or writing are you doing that you find compelling?
Unfortunately, I’ve been obsessed with the news given Covid, politics, an insurrection, and more. I am following a lot of people like Heather Cox Richardson who has an amazing daily blog with commentary on the state of our nation and the historical roots of everything. I read a lot on line. I listen to amazing podcasts in my studio that both move and inform me. I wrote 1000 letters to swing states to get out the vote last fall. I’m in an Antiracism group that Helen Molesworth organized that meets once a week for white women. I read articles for that. And lately, I’m obsessed with prepositions and their relational quality as a metaphor for transitions and connection. I’ve been learning a lot about prepositions. I’m guessing this might all be my current research in some indirect way. I’m presently working on a 20’ x 30’ wall tapestry for Facebook that will incorporate a very large and ambiguous preposition.
Terri Friedman, UNTIL, 2021. Cotton, wool, acrylic, chenille, metallic fibers. 53 x 39 in. Photo: Josef Jacques.
Are you reading anything?
I am reading non-fiction books. I’ve just finished several Ibram X. Kendi books. I love fiction when I read it, but I’m drawn to non-fiction. I have a stack of books that I am reading on my kindle and hard copies next to my bed. I recently read ‘Why we Swim’ by Bonnie Tsui, and now I’m loving poet Sonya Renee Taylor’s book ‘Your Body is not an Apology’. I have ‘On Tyranny’ by Timothy Snyder next to my bed and I’m part way through ‘Caste’ by Isabel Wilkerson.
Terri Friedman. Image courtesy of the artist.