The artist taking back cotton to explore black and queer identities in tapestries

Questions of identity in the contemporary United States, particularly for minority and underrepresented social groups, are complex and rooted in historical turmoil. The mythical ‘land of the free and the home of the brave’ status appointed to the country in its national anthem may ring a little out of tune for many people who remember an era not too long ago eclipsed by racial segregation, as well as for those who continue to fight for basic human rights under the Trump administration today.

Texan-born artist Diedrick Brackens is confronting these issues in woven tapestries,currently on display at New York’s New Museum as an installation entitled “Darling Divined.” His works lie at the confluence between abstraction and figuration, embedding allegorical and lived narratives into woven textiles that combine crafting traditions from West African weaving to American quiltwork.

Using both commercial and unconventional methods of craftsmanship to create vivid and poignant works, a significant element of Brackens’ works begins with the material choice itself. The artist’s use of cotton in particular not only allows him to work with a malleable source, but also to reappropriate a material that is loaded with cultural significance in terms of American and black history.

We spoke to the artist to find out more about his current exhibition, and how his practice employs symbols that distort and subvert the stereotypes surrounding black and queer identity.

Can you tell me more about the pieces you are exhibiting in the show?

They’re going to show 10 large-scale tapestries, and they all include figures. Some of them are of animals as well. They are all pretty narrative, sort of allegorical stories. Some of them have biblical references and contemporary perceptions as well. 

It’s interesting that you are exploring the relationship between textile and story-telling — etymologically, textile and text share the same origin. How does that speak to your focus on the figurative?

I studied textiles at school so I think for me there is something very interesting about the idea of narrative, and that being a quality that is so embedded in textiles. At that time, I think there was a lot, with the Black Lives Matter moment here, there was just a lot going on, images of black death in particular, I wanted to present bodies that were very much alive, enjoying themselves … sort of the counter narrative for me of all of these things that I was experiencing and actively living.

Many artists, particularly in recent decades, have subverted craft techniques within a political context. Craft in a way bears this potential across the domestic and the political. How do you navigate these different elements?

I think this medium, for me it’s a way of being in conversation with these wonderful histories of the use of textiles to share political messages. I think about the audience, it’s a direct way be in conversation with folks, like my peers who write poetry or my peers who are thinking about history, any creative in another discipline thinking along the same lines. I think for me one of the most powerful parts of weaving is that before the viewer considers the image they have to think of the material and the color and the texture. By the time, you take in the content and start to realize you are looking at something that might challenge you, you’re already ensnared. For looking I think you at least should be rewarded with the weavings intrinsic beauty.

Can you tell me about how you came to weaving? 

I went to study for my undergrad at the University of North Texas. I studied Fiber Art there. It was truly fate that brought me to weaving.

I know cotton is central to your work. How do you approach your work with the material, which obviously has a complex history in the context of the United States?

I would say 90% of all my weavings are cotton, and I dye the yarn myself. It feels important, because of its relationship to  American culture and thinking about its relationship to black folks labor in the last couple of centuries here. It feels important to me to physically grapple with the material. The way that I labour with it is a choice, so in a small way I can pay respects to those folks and their labor by making beautiful things, it’s a small way of honoring those ancestors. 

Would you ever consider moving to New York?

I think I’m considering it more than I have previously. I’ve never been interested in actually living in New York, but there’s something really nice about how compact it is. I have a lot of very dear friends who live here, things like that. But I think for me there’s more of a draw to Texas. Before I would move to New York I think I would move to Texas. 

Is your family is still in the south?

Yeah, all of my family is in Texas. I think it’s a place, a subject matter, and a pace that I understand very well.