Last week, I had the privilege of interviewing Jessica Babbini-Baker on the subject of her upcoming solo show at Woolff Gallery, opening this Thursday 27th February. Jessica's tapestries transpose notions of geologic 'deep time' into fibre art. These works, all woven by hand, take the Cornish coast as starting point, where she currently lives and works (Falmouth). Weaving shells, rope-like forms, braids and a plethora of yarns into sprawling, archaeological wall hangings, Jessica rekindles the tradition of loom weaving with a contemporary edge, paying tribute to her Italian heritage and the ever-changing coastline through the ineffable languages of process and touch. Following the success of her 'Exmouth Cliffs' artwork at the annual Gradaute Art Show last October, we dove a little deeper into what these powerful wall hangings have come to represent.
How did you come to be interested in coastlines?
It started with research I did into the Whittard Canyon, a deep-sea canyon, after visiting the National Oceanography Centre. I originally worked from photographs sourced from research papers, but as I progressed, I wanted to be able to gather my own references, which led me to coastlines. Cliff faces along coastlines now represent deep-time for me. I see coastlines as a metaphor for exposed history, and I use techniques linked to my heritage like weaving to portray these locations.
How does the land and sea make its way into your practice?
As I live by the coast, the land and sea are so embedded in my work that it comes through in everything I do. From coastal walks to getting to work (on a ferry), I am always exposed to the sea and elements, which comes through in the way I weave. The movement I create with yarn mimics the movement of water. In other pieces, the location itself in portrayed - I switch from working intuitively to pictorially.
In my earlier works, shells (mainly waste from local fishmongers) were present in my work as they represented the direct link to location. Not only that, but when seeing the imagery taken of deep sea canyons - whih were covered in shells, mainly mussel shells - it was a way of mimicking the imagery from the deep-sea with what I could find above sea level. It was a fun contrast to play with!
What draws you to the medium of fibre art?
Fibre art is something I have grown up with, although then, it was referred to as a craft, a hobby or textile art. Fibre art is fine art that consists of natural or synthetic fibres. The tactile nature of fibres, along with seeing Magdalena Abakanowicz's work at the Tate in 2023, is what inspired me to bring it into my practice. When I weave now, it's a way of connecting to my Italian heritage. Even though there's a language barrier between us, there's a visible one made of fibres which we both understand.
Where do the colours you use come from?
The colours are usually a direct response to reference, so greens for seaweed, teracotta and rust for rust-tinted cliffs along the Jurassic coastline, etc. Some works, however, are made to portray the coastline, but consist of colours I have available - it becomes more of a balancing act of creating a harmony of colours across the loom. As the majority of my yarn has either been donated to me, or has come from charity shops, it means I have a limited colour palette for some artworks, as my colours have already been 'chosen,' so to speak. I am very conscious of how yarn is produced, and how it affects the environment, so I want to avoid purchasing new material as much as possible.
What inspires you on your way to the studio?
The walk to my studio takes me along the river and sometimes, if I have time, all the way to the estuary where I can see the sea in the distance. Being so close to bodies of water and seeing how it moves with the wind, light bouncing off it, or even what stage it's at, tide-wise, all feels like research to me. The walk also allows me to process any thoughts I have to do with my work, and what goals I would like to achieve that day.
What does a typical day off look like?
A typical day off would usually involve being in nature. A favourite of mine would be doing a coastal walk to gather references, or go sea swimming with some fellow local artists.
I'd love to know a bit more about the history of your practice, particulalry as a traditionally female craft. Could you tell us more about it?
As mentioned before, my introduction to this medium was from a craft perspective. All the women in my family have been involved with fibre, whether through crochet, knitting, weaving, sewing, or basket weaving. I feel connected to my family by continuing to work in this way. There's been big debates recently about whether fibre art can be considered as fine art. As said by Sarat Maharaj, "However much the 'quilt' aspires to the state of 'artwork', it does not shake itself free of references to the world of making and producing." My work both acknowledges this history and labour of making whilst remaining a piece of 'fine art.' The links to domesticity and craft is something I acknowledge through my family. Although it doesn't come across explicitly, I use tapestry weaving as a vessel for ideas and thought. I'm aware of the work that has gone in; I do not need every idea to be present at all times.
I'm really interested in this intersection of ecology and feminism in your work!
Geology and feminism collide and come through in the contextual side of my work, as hydrofeminism. Coastlines are continusouly being sculpted by the sea, and the way I lay yarn between the warp threads on the loom speaks to the movement and fluidity of water. Acknowledging my heritage and the connectivity between us through creating these watery tapestries highlight a few ways in which my ideas weave their ways through in the different phases of my works. It's all about connectivty and acknowledging the process, whether it's making or erosion. The sea works reductively, so that I may work additively.
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