With the Blankets, I wanted to start from scratch with something that I didn’t know how to do. I wanted to give mold-making and casting a break, so I started to buy wool blankets at thrift stores. Not the collectible ones, but the dirtiest and most moth-eaten. I valued the ones that had some evidence of repair. The repairs were like little notes, reminders of the early life of the blanket when it was still needed. Most of the blankets that I found were quite small, and that maybe one reason why they were thrown out. Contemporary beds are much bigger. My first thought was: Can the blankets stay alive if they get bigger, if their holes are repaired, if they get cleaner, if they try a little harder? What kind of debris is left in a blanket? Dog hair, cat hair, human hair—what if I think of these as decorative? I cut little flakes of silver ribbon and threw them on the blankets and sewed them where they felt. I valorized all the negatives, like skin flakes and holes. If there was a stain, I stained it more. I put all the labels backwards, erasing the marketing, the shops. I accentuated moth holes. I made the blankets bigger by adding pieces in a very unstrategic way.
Wool, fabric, metal, thread
145 × 62 × 6 cm
Courtesy Susan Hobbs Gallery, Toronto