I take one step forward and fall back into a trap, getting bitten by a snake. The stitches I am forced to unravel comfort me as I unlearn my distortions from adulthood. I’m knitting the main road right now, but might drift off to explore. I don’t know how to build ladders, I just focus on the path. I talk to the little girl in the mirror, our favorite color is lilac. I knit her a lilac road, and remind her that if anyone kicks her to take it as an incentive to jump for her dreams. I didn't end up needing any ladders, and I scared all the snakes away. It’s a game after all.

Snakes and Ladders

Forgiving myself for failing at trying to do and be everything I ever wanted in one day.

Trying not to waste time.

Being looked at from an idealized critical lense, not given the chance to be seen as a whole.

Not remembering

Forcing yourself to remember

You can never let yourself forget

When you were not invited

Not Invited

Whether this entails spiraling backwards or evolving inwards, I am stuck seeking my former childhood wisdom. I talk to her (my childhood self), knitting ceaseless twisty roads and mazes with cryptic ends. Somehow, she does not think I am destined for failure, though the adult schema persists. We work through the puzzles together. I tell myself I am doing a good job, because that’s something she would want to hear. As I found myself dwindling, I drew her a picture of my story-, just like when she used to draw to explain hers. I find a way to evolve.

Spiraling, Evolving

Walking down West Street, the street I would drive home on three years ago, I encountered my former self. I’m relieved that between then and now, we were able to be friends. I catch myself saying our inside jokes aloud, and sometimes even think about you amidst my tears. My mind zig zags and spirals. I shape the path I see. I had to become my own constant. My hands instinctively reach for the bright red yarn, knitting a familiar red circle that resurfaces in my work like a full moon. It feels like I am knitting an old piece of me that just spoke to you. Just know that even though I never reach out, I come close.

Almost, But Never

This knitted painting was created by hand using a manually operated domestic knitting machine. It's composition is initially conceptualized through sketching, followed by drafting a knitting pattern. Then, hours are spent composing the textile row by row to encapsulate the vision.

Add

Marta Nowak

Snakes and Ladders

Not Invited

Spiraling, Evolving

Almost, But Never

(Mis)Matched Pieces

Unwarranted Extractions