Fiber Art of Maren True
I create fiber art by hand dyeing wool, silk, firestar and other fibers, then layering them into fantastical images and felting them into their final form.
Maren True is textile artist who recently moved to Sherburne N.Y. from Arizona. She is an aspiring Fantasy novelist and double majored in Psychology and Medieval & Renaissance Studies at The Colorado College.
The fiber art of Maren True is currently being shown at the Earlville Opera House. https://www.earlvilleoperahouse.com/
I’ve titled this show “A Tale Of Tangled Textiles” Like my writing, my felt pieces speak to the varied experience of magic: from a vivid dragon who’d love to snare you in a conversation, to landscapes of subtle enchantment.
Felt is created by tangling fibers. Transforming a one dimensional line, into a creature of not two, or three, but four. For tangling is inherently something that tells a story of its travels through time. The fibers trace the path they traversed. They find strength from their turning points, from the others they entwine with. They tell a collaborative tale. The viewer can only see the surface of it, trace strands where they leap to light, the depths lay hidden.
I wish you could have watched along with me through the long hours of creation, how the landscape changed. For felting is a living thing. A process of metamorphosis. Where, as you tangle the fibers, you glimpse snapshots of beauty that the next pass of your hand will wreck and reveal anew.
I watch the colors kaleidoscope as I knead the soapy fibers. There is a spontaneity that eclipses the seed of vision. Ripples−undulations of silk, color, and gleaming light. You have to surrender to the heartbreak of losing all the might-have-beens you witness throughout the journey. There is something the heart learns in the flow and ebb, in all the crests of could bes, a certain trust in the magic of the world to manifest again and again, ever new. The part of my heart that was always so desperate for control, to protect what I value from harm, and the horror of knowing that really, I could not. I’ve found peace. For the felt changing under my fingers speaks of endless possibilities, that the beauty of life comes from living.
Life is a tangle. Your hands mold it, but they don’t control it. You’ll find the eyes to see the beauty in the moment, by unhooking your heartstrings from the losing battle of what they can’t keep. There is magic in this world, magic in the doing. May it be yours.