My Research About Textiles, Art and The Book - Worn, by Sofi Thanhauser

Textiles as an Artistic Medium – Between Craft, History, and Identity

My return to textiles in my artistic work did not happen overnight. It was a gradual process of rediscovering myself—of tracing a common thread that was there from the beginning but remained hidden for a long time. Even during my training as a bespoke tailor for men’s clothing, I became familiar with the craftsmanship that goes into every garment. I learned what it means to wear a handmade garment crafted from a material that conforms to your body—one that is flat and supple, yet wraps around you in a three-dimensional, flattering way. This experience laid an important foundation for my artistic curiosity.

While I was studying at the Düsseldorf Art Academy and the Städelschule in Frankfurt, textile practices disappeared from my daily life. The material that had shaped me suddenly seemed no longer to be part of my artistic vocabulary.

Years later, through a wonderful coincidence, I met the artist and then-fashion designer Felicity Brown. We met in Dubai, and I watched her working on a mannequin in Tashkeel. Something about her demeanor, her concentration, and the way she handled the fabric inspired me. We liked each other, and she also liked my paintings, so we began working together. The needle once again became a constant companion in my life—one I wanted to learn more about. Since then, I’ve been conducting intensive research on textile crafts from around the world, on fibers, fabric surfaces, and their cultural, material, and social dimensions. Textiles fascinate me as carriers of history, knowledge, and identity.

Today, my work is characterized by an intense exploration of fibers and fabrics. Textiles, as an artistic medium, possess a natural and social dimension that draws me in.

One book that has had a lasting impact on my understanding of textiles is Worn: A People’s History of Clothing by Sofie Thanhauser. In it, she vividly traces the history of clothing. Her detailed account of the history of clothing and the clothing trade explains why we know so little today about the history of textiles, how they are made, and the people sitting behind the sewing machines—even though fabrics are our second skin. Or to put it another way, we know so little about them precisely because textiles and the trade in them are so significant and profitable.

Thanhauser convincingly describes how, since the introduction of guilds in the 13th century, home-based textile production gradually disappeared, leading to the almost complete loss of women’s economic and legal independence. The resulting consequences included women’s reduced visibility in society, archaeologists’ lack of interest in textile finds, and flawed historical classifications of textile cultural history. Interestingly, we refer to the period during which women became increasingly disadvantaged as the Age of Reason.

Today, we have stopped passing on the traditional knowledge of this cultural heritage to our children. Many children today cannot tie bows, and their parents cannot sew on a button—to cite just a few simple examples.

Despite all the obstacles, and within the privacy of their homes, women have never stopped creating with fibers and fabrics—spinning, weaving, felting, patchworking, dyeing, embroidering, knitting, mending—all while chatting, networking, and sharing their knowledge.

When I research textile craft methods today, I find most of the information among those who work outside the mainstream narratives: among indigenous communities where textile practices are alive and well, among quilters and independent individuals like the women of Gee’s Bend or Rosie Lee Tomkins, and the many who today explore and reinterpret traditional textile processes and expressions.

Imagine sitting at a backstrap loom. Your body holds the tension of the threads. Every movement, every slight shift changes what is taking shape. Your movements are woven into the new fabric; you feel the fabric before it even exists.

Imagine transforming your dreams into patterns, like the girls in Panama who learn from their grandmothers how to design and sew molas. Or imagine wearing a fringed skirt—fringes that have been a symbol of fertility and life for over 20,000 years.

For anyone who wants to delve deeper into this world, I highly recommend two books: Sofi Thanhauser’s Worn and Elisabeth Wayland Barber’s Women’s Work – The First 20,000 Years. Both books have permanently changed my perspective and invite us to see our clothing, textile inventions, and the textile arts with fresh eyes.