Comfort in quilting

Caroline Hwang weaves the fibers of her life in her quilted canvas work

By Jeanne Storck
Published: January 30th, 2009 | 12:00pm

Caroline Hwang sits in her Brooklyn studio, sewing together a cotton quilt. She’s in her groove as music drifts through the air, her needle diving and surfacing to the soulful sounds of Bon Iver or the poppy beats of Feist. With quick steady stitches she pieces together bits of fabric and pictures begin to emerge.

Hwang’s quilts are fabric paintings where pale-skinned girls with feathers in their long black hair play in the forest, gliding in canoes on dark water or hiding from bears. A band of Indian maidens? Girl scouts? For Hwang, it doesn’t really matter who these girls are. What she likes about them is that they’re a sisterhood. “I like the idea of camaraderie, females finding solace, support or strength from one another outside the male environment. They’re a team, a cavalry of girls all in the same outfit or disguise.” Her latest creation? A band of deep-sea diver girls swimming together in scuba gear.

Hwang fell in love with sewing early on. As a kid in Southern California, she hung out at House of Fabrics and grew up to the comforting soundtrack of her grandmother’s knitting needles clicking in steady rhythm. She went on to study at Pasadena’s Art Center College of Design and today her embroidered illustrations decorate the pages of Readymade, Bust, and the New York Times – but her real passion is her quilts.

Pieces can take a month to a month and a half. “It’s therapeutic in terms of how long it takes. When I’m sewing I just sit here and sew. Sometimes I get tired of a piece and can’t get back into it. It might lie there for six months. I’ll pick it back up and then it turns into one of my favorite pieces.”

When she’s looking for new material, she jumps on the Staten Island ferry and heads to suburbia to the closest JoAnns; Manhattan’s trendy garment district doesn’t carry the simple, homey fabrics she favors. Her quilts have a handmade touch; edges swoop gently, not perfectly square. “I’m not very anal in aspect of measurements. I’m terrible at making my own clothes. You’re sewing and everything has to match up and if you do one thing wrong the whole piece is ruined.” Her work is not about perfection and straight lines, but about emotions that create their own rules and boundaries.

Hwang’s favorite color is blue, her favorite mood – melancholy. Pain and sorrow tiptoe through her imagery. Axe and arrows mix with slouched shoulders and broken hearts. And danger lurks as well – the destructive flames of a campfire, the drowning blue depths of a river. Hwang invites her viewers to drink in the quiet sadness of each scene, but she wraps her dark subjects in the cozy, comfort of a quilt.

“The quilt is a place where I feel comfortable being vulnerable,” she explains. It’s a canvas where she sketches out personal experiences or friends’ experiences, hoping that they translate into something that everyone feels. “Everyone goes through betrayal and heartbreak and I think there’s comfort in seeing other people go through the same thing.”

For inspiration, Hwang also looks to the work of other artists – the goofy, tender tales of Miranda July, the crafty, cartoonish paintings of Clare Rojas, and the skulls and silhouettes of Jo Jackson. “I’m drawn to the strength in their work. Their work isn’t based on the sexual nature of femininity.”

Hwang also revels in music. In her recent playlist, you’ll find Kings of Convenience along with some Kate Bush and Carly Simon thrown in. Music rolls over her as she works. A phrase jumps out at her, hitting a feeling or emotion spot on and she grabs it, plays it over in her head and later works the lyric into the title of a piece. In one quilt, a couple lies enlaced peacefully in bed. Then you read Hwang’s desolate title: “What I thought it was it isn’t now” (from Emily Haines & The Soft Skeleton). Suddenly the girl’s sweet red lips have a sad tilt and her arms wrapped round his chest change from a gentle hug to a bittersweet embrace.

Hwang has just published a new zine called “In Anxious Anticipation” ($7). Check out more of her work at www.carolinehwang.net.