"It’s like coloring in with yarn," says Maryanne Moodie, a Brooklyn-by-way-of-Melbourne artisan whose unique woolen wall art recalls the vibrancy of a Crayola-armed kid, albeit much more refined. "I like that I sort of get to be a child and use as much color as I like."
Moodie’s collages of new and vintage yarn, including threads pulled from spools found in shut-down textile factories, create a riot of silk, cotton, alpaca, and cashmere. Different gauges and geometric shapes create depth and texture with material already known for such qualities, resulting in bold tapestries that you wouldn’t be chided for running your finger across. Moodie’s eclectic approach picks up attention; when she went sourcing at the Argyle Yarn Shop in Brooklyn, the owner asked her what she was doing—nobody shops like she does, he said, filling a basket with so many different types of yarn, seemingly at random.
Moodie somewhat stumbled into weaving in 2002, when she lucked into a loom that her school in Melbourne was throwing out, and began experimenting and creating pieces. Between her supportive circle of friends and the positive feedback she received on Instagram, she decided to continue, slowly building a practice.
When her husband Aaron got a job designing and programming at Etsy in 2013, the couple moved to Park Slope, Brooklyn, which has helped Moodie expand her work (most of the projects she posts on Instagram are quickly purchased). She’s currently weighing offers for public commissions and starting to build a beginner’s kit with a small loom to help others get started.
"I need to be careful with my next projects," she says. "I’m looking for good vibrations. I’m lucky enough to not have to base what I do next strictly on money. I’m really happy that I get to do this for a living."
During the course of his career writing about music and design, Patrick Sisson has made Stefan Sagmeister late for a date and was scolded by Gil Scott-Heron for asking too many questions. His work has appeared in Pitchfork, Nothing Major, Wax Poetics, Stop Smiling and Chicago Magazine.