Jessie Mordine Young

ARTIST STATEMENT

Jessie Mordine Young (b. England, 1993) is a Brooklyn-based artist who researches, writes about, curates, makes and teaches textile art. She believes that textiles can be carriers of empathy, memory, lived experience and that they are evidence of humanity. This sentiment is at the root of her art practice. In one of her more recent bodies of work, she embarked on a project of creating daily artworks, which she calls “woven drawings”/“thread sketches.” These pieces directly connect to her experiences in nature, where color and texture become tangible references to memory. Jessie is enamored by the alchemy of the dye vat. She paints her yarn and woven fabrics through a natural dye process, where she creates her own visual language with color by thoughtfully sourcing plant matter. Jessie grew up between the Bay Area, California and New Delhi, India, where she was introduced to various art and craft communities, many of which advocated for autonomy over their practice. Through extensively researching various craft histories, she has developed an appreciation for slow, thoughtful acts of making as an act of self-preservation.

Interview with Jessie Mordine Young

Can you tell us a bit about your background and how you became interested in becoming an artist? Who or what were some of your most important early influences?

I am a Brooklyn-based artist who researches, writes about, curates, makes and teaches textile art. I also paint murals in the summer. I earned her BFA in Fiber and Material Studies and Art History from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC) and an MA in Material Culture, Design History and Object Study from the Bard Graduate Center in NYC. I am part-time faculty in the School of Constructed Environments and the MFA Textiles Program at Parsons School of Design. I grew up between the Bay Area, California and New Delhi, India, where I was introduced to various art and craft communities, many of which advocated for autonomy over their practice. Through extensively researching various craft histories, she has developed an appreciation for slow, thoughtful acts of making as an act of self-preservation.

I saw a lot of art as a kid. I went to lots of museums with my parents and had a lot of creative family members. I went to schools with curriculum that placed and emphasis on the arts.

Any stories you can share about early memories of how an aspect of the arts impacted you?

I grew up between the Bay Area, California and New Delhi, India. I grew up in two blended families. When my parents divorced, they both married people of Indian origin and grew their families with their new partners. I was introduced to textiles through my new family’s histories. My stepmother’s family is from Gujarat, which is known for its block printing and weaving histories. My stepfather is from Punjab, where they specialize in Bagh and Phulkari embroidery, which are some of the most beautiful textiles I have ever seen. Through hearing their own personal and familial connections to craft, I was introduced to textiles. And then of course when we moved to India, I was able to travel a lot and learn about the various art and craft histories and communities in the subcontinent. This was super inspiring. I also learned about autonomy over practice and began understanding the complex histories of colonization, and how this permeates the art world and textile world through appropriation and exploitation. It was a super formative time in my life.

When I was in high school in New Delhi, I interned at a textile factory. When the power outages frequently occurred in the hot summer days, I would join the women embroiderers who were stitching details onto the garments on the floor. Through broken Hindi and English, they would teach me various hand stitching techniques that they had learned from their mothers and grandmothers in their home villages. These methods were initially learned for making wedding gifts or to decorate goods in the home, but are now used as an autonomous practice, as they could use it as their primary form of income and personal creative expression. From this experience, I quickly realized my interests lay less in largescale commercial production and more so in cultural preservation by looking at the history of textiles and its current role in society today. This too taught me to appreciate slow forms of making and how it can connect to personal and collective identity.

Where are you currently based and what initially brought you there? Are there any aspects of this specific location or community that have inspired your work?

I am currently based in Brooklyn, NY. I moved here in the fall of 2019 to attend graduate school, and stayed thereafter to pursue my career as an artist, educator, and scholar. I’ve never been an artist full time, and I don’t think there should be or there is any shame in that. I hope that one day I might be able to sustain my life solely with my work, but it might be quite some time before that becomes a reality. I get inspired by my students at Parsons (where I teach three days a week), they are so talented, and I deeply respect their curiosity and drive. I’m inspired by my other creative friends, who are unapologetically committed to their practice. I don’t think my work is a direct response to my surroundings of being in NYC, but I do get inspired by seeing other people’s work, which is aided by being in a center of art and culture. I gain the most creative energy when I spend time in nature, as much of the inspiration behind the pieces I make come from sound, light, textures within the terrain, among other experiential things that happen only when you pause and allow for deep observation.

Can you describe your studio space? What are some of the most crucial aspects of a studio that make it functional? Do any of these specific aspects directly affect your work?

I have a small section of my partner’s studio, which he generously shares with me. He is a painter and graphic designer with a small team that support him with his projects. It’s nice to have a different process and a different energy in the studio. Because our practices are very different, we gain new perspectives from hearing each other’s perspectives, and stands out in the piece to the (perhaps untrained) eye. In my studio, I have a table top loom, a floor loom, some frame looms, lots of yarn and weaving tools. I also have dye pots and dye materials. Some more obscure equipment include: ball winders, a swift for yarn, warping board, etc. I use found or gifted objects in my weavings, so I keep a collection of that in my studio. It gets a lot of natural light which is really wonderful.

I don’t work with a huge amount of space, and feel that art residencies that offer new working environments, more space, and more equipment, are an incredibly fulfilling experience for me. It energizes me and helps me push my practice in new directions.

The studio is walking distance from our apartment, so it is nice having the routine of walking to and from work each day.

What is a typical day like? If you don't have a typical day, what is an ideal day?

I am a morning person. I get up with my dog around 7 am and go for a walk with my coffee. I teach a few mornings a week, but if I don’t have anything in the schedule, such as teaching, this is the time I spend doing promotional material (social media) and catching up on emails and/or administrative work. Afternoons are spent on actually making, evenings are spent for going on a walk/run, cooking dinner, spending time with my partner and dog, and getting some more work done.

I hope that in years to come, I can have this same routine, but in nature. Or somewhere closer to nature, where I can have time to recharge more often.

What gets you in a creative groove or flow? Are snacks involved? ☺

I like to work on a project with uninterrupted time and attention. I don’t like meetings in the middle of scheduled art making time. Music helps. Weaving is a slow process, but one that I find meditative. With some pieces, I might only get a few inches completed in a day, other pieces are much fast. I find a rhythm regardless.

In the beginning of December, I embarked on a 100 Day Weaving Challenge, where I committed to making one weaving on a frame loom. I initially thought of doing something like this after I attended an art residency with Thread Caravan in Oaxaca in August. There, I had tried to make 30 weavings in 30 days, but I did not complete the goal, as I turned more of my attention to learning about textiles processes in the area rather than completing my own art. It was the most incredible way to be informed and inspired, and when I returned home, I thought I would re-commit to the challenge, but make it for a longer duration. Extending the project over the course of several months would offer more versatility, so I committed to 100 days of weaving.

With the 100 Day Series, I had a goal of completing one piece a day, so my deadline, and the time I had to complete it, was much shorter. This meant that I set out time right when I woke up to get started on my piece, and because I considered these playful experiments and sketches, it felt that a lot less was on the line. I gave myself permission to try new things with little expectation.

This project has inspired me to develop distinctly different bodies of work, some of which I had no idea would become a part of my visual language, until I allowed myself the opportunity to in my practice each day. I will admit, it was quite challenging at times to complete a weaving each day, waking up at 5am before going to work became routine. Also, completing and then sharing a piece that I wasn't always thrilled about was humbling. This project grounded me in many ways, it did allow me to find balance, particularly at times when I was looking toward the future, and looking for the next client project or the next opportunity. 

Is there anything that interrupts and stagnates your creative energy?

A lot of being an artist, especially one who is just getting started in their creative career, is the stress of making the art sell and getting it seen. I spend quite a bit of time and energy trying to get my work out there (in various social channels, publication platforms, exhibition spaces, etc.). I think the average person does not realize that there is a constant pressure to get your artwork seen or to get it to sell, or to convince a client that your work is the right fit for their project. This takes up so much time, and is a huge part of being an artist. There is an anxiety that comes with this too, that can stagnate my creative energy, prevent me from taking larger risks, or feeling guilty if time in the studio doesn’t feel productive.

How do you select materials? How long have you worked with this particular media or method?

I use natural fibers and natural dyes. Most of my yarn comes without color, and then I hand-dye them achieve a particular color or to use a particular dyestuff. I am enamored by the alchemy of the dye vat. I also like to collaborate with other dyers, some are in Oaxaca. They dye the yarn and then I weave with it. I feel this creates a story and a connection within the work, but also lets me work with other textile artists/makers elsewhere, and connects my work to places beyond NYC.

My favorite that I work with is indigo. It is magical for many reasons. Indigo is special because the color is achieved through an oxidization process. When the submerged yarn is take out of the vat, it changes from an bright green to a deep blue hue. It offers my favorite shades for work, and it is perhaps my favorite form of making above all else.

Can you walk us through your overall process? How long has this approach been a part of your practice?

It is dependent on the project. But a lot of my larger woven works begin with sketches on paper, made with color pencil, oil pastel, or paint. I then select my yarns for the project, and calculate how much yarn I will need for my warp and weft, to ensure I have enough. Then, I will wind my warp and dress my loom, which is arguably the most time consuming and demanding part of the weaving process. This can take anywhere from 3 to 10 hours, depending on the scale. (If it is the frame loom that I used for the 100 Day Series, it is a much less time-consuming task to wind my warp) Once I have finished preparing the loom, I can begin weaving.

When the pieces are done, I will cut the warp off of the loom, and finish off the ends, either by hand tying or hand stitching the threads in.

Can you talk about some of the ongoing interests, imagery, and concepts that have informed your process and body of work over time? How do you anticipate your work progressing in the future?

I love looking at art – in galleries and museums, in books, online. I think about art almost all the time.

Do you pursue any collaborations, projects, or careers in addition to your studio practice? If so, can you tell us more about those projects, and are there connections between your studio practice and these endeavors?

I teach in the School of Constructed Environments and the Textiles MFA program at Parsons School of Design at the New School, in New York City.

I also have a mural practice as well. This commercial work is particularly well received by small local businesses in NYC, such as bars and restaurants. The style of this work is very different, and the process is so much faster than weaving. I appreciate working at such a large scale, using different colors, and being able to work in a different medium. This is also a really fun way to spend my summers, as I get to make work outside, and people, primarily pedestrians passing by, respond to it in the moment, which is a super satisfying.

Have you had any epiphanies recently that have changed the course of your work or caused you to shift directions?

I would say the 100 Day Series (discussed above) was one of those projects that shifted my practice greatly.

This originally came about after leaving a job I worked at most days that was no longer serving me. At first, it was hard to returning to the studio and getting back into a making routine. It was intimidating to get back on the loom, reconnect with my practice, and find my voice. When I started working more consistently at my practice again (more uninterrupted time at the loom) was when I truly found growth in my practice.

As a result of the pandemic, many artists have experienced limited access to their studios or loss of exhibitions, income, or other opportunities. Has your way of working (or not working) shifted significantly during this time? Are there unexpected insights or particular challenges you’ve experienced?

I have always had part-time jobs on the side to support my practice, there is no shame in that and there should be no shame in that for others. During the pandemic, I was in graduate school (not making art) and working a job that helped me pay my expenses, so actually took a pause from making for quite some time. It was challenge to have to come to terms that I would make work for an extended season. But it pushed me to be a more focused maker in the times that did permit for making art. It was really hard, and I did lose a sense of myself through that time. But now that I am making consistently again, I feel back to my normal self.

Can you share some of your recent influences? Are there specific works—from visual art, literature, film, or music—that are important to you?

I recently returned to Sea Ranch, CA. It’s where my nana lives. I try and visit every 6 months, and it is one of my favorite places on earth. I am so inspired by textures, sounds, the changes in light, the colors. I hope to one day to spend a few months here at one time to be able to make a new body of work that directly responds to this environment. I am craving connection to place. New York feels like home in many ways, because I have built a life here, but there are aspects of daily living here that doing feel grounding. When I get time in places that offering that grounding experience, it my art makes more sense, it becomes more authentic.

Who are some contemporary artists you’re excited about? What are the best exhibitions you’ve seen in recent memory and why do they stand out?

I am inspired by so many artists, it is hard to narrow it down. Sheila Hicks will always be a constant source of inspiration. I am in love with the work of Heather Day, an abstract painter based in San Francisco/Joshua Tree. How she captures color, texture and form is incredible, and thematically we share similar sources of inspiration. I find RF Alvarez’s work to hold a powerful tenderness to it. I love painting and ceramics, and spending a lot of time look at them, even more-so recently, for inspiration. If I wasn’t primarily a textile artist, I would invest my time in either both or one of these mediums.

I know a lot of textile artists that are masters at structure – creating it, altering it, reinstating it. Creating structure is an essential part of weaving, but I think I am more drawn to the ability to paint with thread. I am less daring with my structural choices. I mostly use plain weave, the basic structure that creates a plain, so that the threads transform into a canvas. Sometimes I challenge this, but for the most part, I am thinking of my woven pieces as paintings. what can happy on the confines of the loom that really excite me.

Do you have any tips or advice that someone has shared with you that you have found particularly helpful?

Keep going. You’ll be surprised at what comes your way when you give everything to your practice.

What are you working on in the studio right now? What’s coming up next for you?

I am making some larger pieces, one a commission, and the other, an entry point into a larger series I have been dreaming up for quite some time. I am craving to make some more sculptural pieces, which have only existed in my notebooks in the form of sketches.

To find out more about Jessica Young check out her Instagram and website.