rachel brace-stille

The objects I choose resonate with me, as my eye scours piles of discarded articles. I look for something that I feel has a similar story to my own, a mingling of histories. In my effort to make visible the invisible, to give voice to pasts that have not yet been spoken, in order to make this body of work, I wrapped, bound, disintegrated, and recreated some of the experiences I felt as a child. These secrets are the ties that bind, the invisible string that makes me responsible for keeping up appearances set in motion decades ago. 

I compulsively weave, feeling the thread between my fingers give way to a rhythmic movement. It quells the fear and unease that lies just below the surface. I create a hindrance, while at the same time the pretense of perfection.