Call them Kitsch-Conceptual or Classicism w/Critters—however these loop-pile tufts are tagged, the rugs and wall hangings of @rugburntsoul radiate personality.
In 2018, multiple sclerosis caused North Carolina artist Leif Zikade to lose feeling in their hands for several months. “I eventually regained most sensation, but my hands were never the same,” Leif tells us over email. While holding smaller tools, like pencils and paintbrushes, continues to be difficult, in 2020 they discovered that operating a tufting machine didn’t cause the kind of cramping that other practices did.
Leif might self-describe as an art school dropout (“I went to Pratt Institute for an entire semester. It was okay, but mentally I was not ready to start school at that time”), but their skills as an illustrator are on full display in their tufts. It’s no surprise that as a kid and teenager, they practiced drawing, painting, and printmaking, and that their current influences range from vintage queer magazines to the Rider-Waite tarot deck their mom used when they were little.
At their home studio in Asheville, tufting is now an integral part of Leif's world, as both their primary art practice and their source of income. Whether they’re queering historical narratives or dropping a tufted pun, their playfully confrontational rugs make us stop, smile, and think.
How are you feeling today?
Very distracted, as I keep trying to decide on yarn colors for a project, but have yet to make a solid decision as the project sits upon my frame, mocking me from the other room any time I try to focus on doing anything else.
That sounds about right! How would you generally describe your art-making process?
It feels like trying to work with a head full of primordial soup. Thoughts, vague ideas, patterns, colors, textures, hyper-fixation of the month just bubbling around, and every few billion years something crawls to the surface and won’t leave me alone until I make it. It is a slow, bubbling journey over the course of forever.
How did you get into tufting?
It was in March 2020, back when the ‘tufting’ hashtag on Instagram yielded results from maybe three other people. I was out of work, on unemployment, and decided to buy everything I needed to start tufting. If it weren’t for an entire pandemic, brief unemployment benefits, and sad little stimulus checks, I wouldn't have been able to make the initial purchase that put me on this yarn-ridden path. I had never worked with textiles before, but I was set on tufting and have since fallen in love with everything about it.
I sense both delight and curiosity in your work. I’m wondering what interested you as a kid?
To be honest, looking back that far is a blur. I do remember I was always drawing, and my childhood career dreams were tied between becoming an artist or a veterinarian. Part of growing up meant I cycled through so many potential interests over and over and over again, in an attempt to find some sort of identity in anything. This was exacerbated by being trans without knowing it, hence grasping at any form of identity. My interest in art and animals was truly constant during this whirlwind of just trying to exist.
Bugs, frogs, and caterpillars are very much a part of your visual vocabulary. What's up with these creatures? What meaning do they hold for you?
I’ve always loved a good bug. Insects, amphibians, reptiles, or any other creature that may be found on a list of "vermin" are very close to my heart. Growing up you hear predominantly negative things about them. People are scared of them, disgusted by them, or just want them dead. They are not on the “Easy To Love” list of animals, which only makes me want to love them more. I don’t believe any living creature’s physical appearance should warrant their death, e.g. that cockroach scuttling by doesn’t deserve the bottom of your shoe just because he’s “gross.” Incorporating them into my work comes from my unconditional love for them, and the hope that depicting them might earn them more love from others.
There’s so much humor and parody in your work. The Soyboy magazines, for example, and the juice carton mirror rugs–I love the clever way they bring the face of the viewer onto the carton, making us the new poster person for “Gay Juice” or “Sad Juice.” This kind of play shows up even when the topic itself (mental health or gender identity) is otherwise “serious.” Can you talk a little about the role humor plays in your work? In your life?
Humor plays a huge role in my life. For example, my entire life is a joke.
Many years ago, I was at my top surgery consultation and I asked my surgeon if we could skip the nipples, just leave them off. At the time this was mostly unheard of, but she didn’t mind leaving them off. Months go by, and my surgery happens. I wake up very drugged and notice my surgeon next to me, distressed, with her head in her hands. She says, “Leif, I’m so sorry . . . I put your nipples back on.” I laughed so hard I cried, and it wasn’t just the hospital-grade drugs in my system. That tiny, little, perfect moment in time was my life’s punchline. I may or may not be the only human to have accidental nipples.
For me, being queer and hilarious (as I think of myself at least) are deeply intertwined. I find myself trying to combine queerness, humor, and yarn all at once. Even if I’m the only one laughing at it. (I probably am.)
In the caption to your rug portrait of a transgender Jesus with dark skin, you wrote (to many Instagram applause), “if jesus was the product of a virgin birth he could only be born with XX chromosomes. jesus is trans. i don’t make the rules, i just make the rugs.” I’m laughing, but also this is brave work! You’re radically rewriting a culturally foundational narrative through rugs. Do you see it that way?
Yes, and I think it’s fun. Turning someone, like Jesus, into the very thing some people hate. Growing up in the South, things like transphobia and racism are sometimes found holding hands with certain ideologies and those ideologies tend to be very Jesus-centric. This was a play on the same exact chromosome argument we’ve all heard, but when applied to Jesus, makes him trans. When I was making The Crucifixtermination of Roach Jesus, I was trying to decide which bug to assign the role to and decided to make Jesus a cockroach after wondering, “What bug do people hate the most?” If Jesus were real, and indeed had his long-awaited second coming, the same people arguing about chromosomes would squash Roach Jesus in a second. I enjoy rewriting these narratives to show the fluidity I see in them; that nothing is truly foundational or forever. Maybe Jesus will “come again” as the next asteroid to collide with Earth and return us to that sweet, juicy primordial soup.
Like a lot of tufters, it seems like your practice includes both tufts of your own conception and work for commission. How have your commissions come about? How is your approach different when you’re producing a commissioned rug versus your own piece?
I have relied on commissions to keep me afloat just enough to pay my bills and work on my personal projects. I’m lucky to have a consistent flow of clients seeking work that aligns with what I like to do. I have had to turn away many people seeking Nike shoe rugs, mostly because they obviously didn’t look at my work before sliding into my DMs. For the commissions I do accept, I usually sketch up a few ideas to send to my clients for approval; otherwise I go about them like any other project and use the remaining space on the frame for my own ideas as well.
What are you currently excited about in your art-making life? What’s coming up?
I have two large projects up on my big frame. One is my personal favorite, a rug for tattoo trade. I love bartering rugs more than anything. The second project is for a great friend who just opened a kava bar, one of the only places I leave my house for. I was given free rein on this one, and I’m already personally obsessed with it. I have an overabundance of half-baked ideas swirling around my head that I know will manifest when they’re ready, most of them being bigger and queerer than ever before.
The first time I saw “Lady Justice,” by Canadian artist Simone Elizabeth Saunders, I couldn’t stop looking. The picture on my phone was Instagram-sized, and the tufted surface of the piece flattened by my screen, but the combination of deeply-felt imagery and technical skill was nonetheless affecting. I zoomed in to study the letters on the crumpled loop-pile bandana, Justice’s traditional blindfold (or face mask?) cast aside. I zoomed out to feel Justice’s all-knowing expression; her demand for accountability, come what may.
“Lady Justice” is part of Protect Black Women (2020 - 2021),a series of machine-tufted and punch-needle wall hangings that combine direct text with visual symbolism to create bold, powerful portraits, not unlike the way stage performances bring characters to life. Prior to making textiles, Saunders was both an actor and a set designer, and a founding member of the Afrocentric Calgary theater company Ellipsis Tree Collective. “When I envision a textile, storytelling is my foundation,” she says. “My inspiration stems from narratives that amplify Black womanhood, belonging, and ancestorship.”
It wasn’t until her interest in set design led her to pursue fiber art at the Alberta University of the Arts that Saunders discovered tufting when one of her instructors showed an image of an artist with a tufting gun. The fiber department didn’t supply the machines, but Saunders took it upon herself to find one and learn anyway. “The gun itself is quite a powerful tool,” she recently told the Calgary Herald. “Building my relationship with that machine, there was a lot of power within that. Especially fashioning Black women.” The tufting gun opened up a whole new medium—one that Saunders soon mastered, and viewers quickly responded to.
Since graduating in 2020, Saunders’ work has been supported by galleries and institutions both in and beyond Canada. She was the National Winner of the Bank of Montreal’s prestigious 1st Art! award, and just closed out her debut museum show, at Contemporary Calgary, to rave reviews. Given the artist’s busy schedule, we were honored she took the time to give us a glimpse into her process.
First off, any tufter who sees your work can’t help but notice the extreme attention to detail. How do you achieve such precision?
When I tuft, I incorporate symbology and pattern to support the narrative I see in each piece. I tuft the work considering the viewer’s eye, wanting it to travel in and around the work—each thread requires my focus and dedication, which encourages me to achieve a fine level of detail. I draw from contemporary events, literature, music, plays, and my personal experiences and passions. My relationship to the tufting gun has become more and more refined with practice, allowing me the ability to tuft more ornate patterns. I take my time when I tuft. I don’t rush the process, I relish it! There are moments when deciding certain color combinations takes me a very long time. The vibration of color is always challenging and an exploration for me. And for my focus, having an understanding of color theory is key: knowing complementary, secondary and tertiary combinations. Having this foundation gives me room to play and navigate within the complexity of color.
I’m so interested in your evolution from acting and performance-involvement to fiber art and tufting. How does your theater background inform your visual art practice?
My theater background has been immensely advantageous to my textile practice. The art of storytelling drives my tufting, and is how I use my voice. I create a story, I develop my characters, and then I translate these into threads. The dramatics of Shakespeare inspire me, as well as the hauntingly charming Grimm’s fairy tales, and the powerful plays by Black playwrights such as Lynn Nottage or Djanet Sears. I draw from my passions and my past as resources, all to fuel these textile stories. There are no rules when creating, and when I’m tufting I feel free. The movement when tufting and the power of the tool—I feel in sync with it. The skill sets I’ve acquired from theater will support me for the rest of my life. I work at being in touch with my emotions, and that translates into my art. It takes vulnerability and a willingness to speak one's truth.
I love that you think of your portraits as character studies; it suggests you see your representations not just as images, but as living, breathing people. Where do these characters come from?
I start with a gaze. When creating portraits of Black women, I want our power and resilience to shine through. And the eyes are portals. The direction and intent of the gaze will pull in and engage the viewer. The character is developed through a curiosity for connection: What is happening in the world? What is this figure wanting to say? What world is she in? I draw strength from literature: Toni Morrison, Octavia Butler, Angela Davis . . . or from the lyrics of songs: Alicia Keys, Nina Simone, H.E.R, Queen Latifah. My portraits are created by collaging a figure from a milieu of beautiful and strong Black women. Sometimes I am inspired by a public figure: Serena Williams, Adut Akech, Lizzo, Nina Simone, FKA Twigs. An imagined figure becomes real to me once I draw her—becoming the character in the story I wish to portray.
You’ve cited Art Nouveau, the ornate late-Nineteenth Century style that originated in Belgium, as a big influence on your work. In using such a Eurocentric style to center and celebrate Blackness, you flip the art history script. Can you talk about what you’ve termed "Black Nouveau”?
When I was in art school, I was completely enamored when studying Art Nouveau. The whimsy and grace, with figures adorned in golds and surrounded by intoxicating patterns. And the way in which women were portrayed in Art Nouveau, so sensual and alluring. But I quickly felt like an outsider looking in, as this era depicted exclusively white bodies. So I adopted the techniques and inspiration of the style to create “Black Nouveau”. Art Nouveau artists were often hired to create drawings that advertised a company’s fine wines, liqueurs, cigars, and chocolatiers—I drew from that history of incorporating text in order to tuft works that amplify mantras from the Black Lives Matters Movement, with phrases like Protect Black Women, Black Power, Black Dreams, Black Love and Black Magic emanating from the textiles. “Black Nouveau” is a concept my textiles will continue to explore.
What do you hope a viewer of your newest body of work, Ancestral Bodies, walks away thinking about?
The figures in these pieces are rendered as ethereal and sentient beings. I tuft line-work with beige thread outlining the bodies and then I fill with gold-flecked black thread. The bodies illuminate from the textiles, as though constellations are captured from within. In creating the bodies this way, I am honoring my ancestors, acknowledging that they are with the stars. Everything they have given to this world, all past, present and future, compressed into one. Their struggles, their love, their bodies are now at one with the stars. We are imprints of our ancestors, learning and discovering pieces of ourselves. Through the impact of each of our histories, we are not who we are without those who came before us. We are more than our bodies—we radiate energy tethered to a lineage beyond comprehension. This is the foundation for my series Ancestral Bodies. Each textile captures a different message of light and love and a connection to the stars . . . to our universe.
So much has happened in the world in the last few years, including the beginning of a global health crisis, and a growing public awareness of implicitly racist systems in the U.S. and beyond. I’m wondering how the events of 2020 gave rise to your Portraits series, and the urgent and powerful work in Protect Black Women.
Now is the time, more than ever, for the Black community to be SEEN and to be HEARD. This is a crucial time for artists to capture what is happening within our world, and for Black voices to lift up. For our joys, love, struggles to be acknowledged. And for our global cry for justice to be amplified and to be received. It’s often an emotional process. But I feel so much joy and gratitude to be in my studio, creating these textiles that encompass my truth.
You’ve seen some (highly deserved!) success in the last few years. What has this felt like?
It has been an incredible affirmation knowing that I am on my true path. The recognition I’ve received came at a time when I had just graduated from art school. When I began tufting portraiture, I had no idea how my textiles would be received or perceived. I was creating for me: learning this new technique that interested me, teaching myself how to tuft and exploring this new craft. My art always evokes my search for belonging, and my desire to express my voice. So, when acknowledgement came and continued, it was (and is!) encouragement to keep going! I have endless inspiration and so many ideas I want to execute, so I am grateful each day to be doing what I love. Tufting is a unique medium in the art world, and I am so glad it found me.
It’s soft, comes in pretty colors, and reminds you of your grandma—but this isn’t your first tuft, and you’ve come to understand that yarn is so much more than sweaters. As a prime part of any tufting practice, it’s helpful to approach this versatile material as you would any art supply—learning-by-doing, ready to experiment, and armed with some basic knowledge. That’s where we come in!
Just like paint, different types of yarn can be “mixed” by threading various cones into your machine simultaneously. We played with different combos, piles, and thread-quantities of all four of our Reflect yarns: Wool, Eco-cotton, Recycled Wool, and Banana Silk. Check out the findings of our (highly scientific) experiments below.
Right: One cone of Eco-cotton and two cones of Banana Silk (Silver) create a natural-looking pattern with just the right amount of shine. A combo like this could be a great way to tuft water, chrome, hair in a portrait, fur in your cat’s portrait, shall we go on?
Left: The best way to achieve new, unique colors is to mix up existing ones. Here we threaded our cut-pile machine with three cones of Recycled Wool in three different colors: Grapefruit, Peach Fuzz, and Brick to get this deep blend of earthy oranges.
Right: Two strands of Recycled Wool (in Grapefruit and Peach Fuzz) come together beautifully with one strand of Reflect Wool in Royal to create a dense, speckled cut-pile. Keep it mind that, as with many of these combinations, you’ll need a yarn feeder that can accommodate the number of cones you plan to use. Learn more about yarn feeders here.
Left: We love the texture created by combining one strand of Eco-cotton (in Heather Gray) with one cone of Reflect Wool in high-contrast Royal, when the ends of the cut-pile cotton fray just enough to combine with the neighboring strands. Since Eco-cotton is a little tougher to sever than Reflect Wool, always make sure your cut-pile machine is well-oiled and cutting properly before diving in.
Right: It’s possible to get a nice loop-pile with just three strands of Recycled Wool, but we love a challenge! Here we loaded up our AK-II with four strands of Recycled Wool in complimentary colors (Peach Fuzz, Grapefruit, Brick, and Terracotta) to get this pretty, natural-looking pattern. Full disclosure, it took a minute to get the hang of tufting with four cones of yarn at once. We recommend playing with the placement of your yarn feeder and screw eyes to avoid tangles.
Left: The bit of recycled viscose in Recycled Wool adds softness that’s enhanced by Banana Silk. Here, two cones of Recycled Wool (in Peach Fuzz and Grapefruit) and two cones of Banana Silk (in Silver) make for a cut-pile that’s both velvety and strong, perfect for your bedside rug.
Right: Things got a little shaggy while tufting this combo cut-pile, achieved with two cones of Heather Gray Eco-cotton and three cones of Banana Silk (two Black, one Silver). While not impossible, five strands of yarn proved a little challenging for the scissors of our cut-pile machine, as seen in the unevenness of the piles. (Hot tip: instead of building a yarn feeder that can accommodate five cones, another option is to double up your yarn, then rewind it onto a single cone with a yarn winder.)
Below: Banana Silk shows more of its luster in loop-pile tufting than cut-pile, as in this swatch, made using four cones of Banana Silk (two Black and two Silver). Because Banana Silk is slicker than other yarns, you might find it has a tendency to want to slip out of the machine needle or tufting cloth. If that happens, try adding one strand of Eco-cotton or Wool in a similar color to help the fibers stay in place. Learn more about this common problem here.
What weird, wonderful things are YOU doing with Reflect tufting yarn?
We can't wait to see! Post your work on Instagram and include the hashtags #tufttheworld and #whatareyoutufting for a chance to be reposted on our main feed.
Wes Bechtler has been tufting for less than a year, but his mastery of the craft has already allowed him to make designing and creating rugs a full-time gig. On the second floor of a converted Bushwick warehouse, his live/work studio is full of plants, light, and—of course—rugs. “I needed a place I could make plenty of noise,” he says. Given the knee-high stack of finished pieces, the dozen or so rugs spread across the floor, and the handful of works-in-progress on the large frame by the window, it’s easy to imagine that Bechtler’s cut-pile machine never stays quiet for long.
Originally from New Jersey, Wes grew up with a woodshop at home and worked as a carpenter throughout college, at William Paterson University, attending classes during the week and working home-renovation jobs on the weekends. During that time he also rented his first art studio, where he began painting and making furniture. Years later, it's clear that the attention to detail that woodworking requires informs Bechtler’s tufting practice. While the fun color combos and unpretentious patterns of his rugs are certainly appealing, it’s the super-clean execution of his shapes and edges, and the almost factory-plush quality of his piles that makes his rugs so satisfying to look at. Or, better yet, to walk on.
The obvious question first: how did you get into tufting? What do you like about it?
I’ve always been interested in all aspects of design and am constantly exploring different media. I saw a video of someone tufting and thought, “Oh wow, I need to do this!” It was around the holiday season, so I asked my family for a tufting gun. Of course, no one knew what I was talking about. Shout-out to my sister and mom for getting me started.
My favorite part of creating has always been the process more than the final product. It’s incredibly therapeutic to throw on music or a podcast and get lost in the studio; you’re in your own little world, and it’s no different with tufting.
A scroll back through your Instagram shows how elements of your work—like the confetti motif and contrasting colors—carry over from your furniture into your rugs, but the effect is really different in tufted form. I’m wondering how working in fiber has changed your approach to these choices. Or your aesthetic overall?
Working with fibers has definitely changed my approach to color. With painting, I always mix my own colors and am able to get pretty precise in defining the hue, tone and value of each. Tufting has changed the way I go about choosing palettes because I have some limits in the variety of color—I work with certain manufacturers, so I’m limited by the colors they produce—but I’ve really enjoyed this new challenge because it leads me to choose colors and combinations that wouldn’t necessarily have been my first choice. I also just love going to the fabric store, looking at and feeling all the different yarns.
I love the use of the confetti pattern in your work. It reminds me of the Memphis Group, East Coast brick walls, and parties. What draws you to this pattern? What inspires you more generally?
The confetti pattern has always had a place in my heart, but it didn’t show up in my work until New Year’s Eve of 2015 with my longtime friend Colin (@colinmlyon). This was right after college, and we didn’t want to go to a local party and see a bunch of people from high school, so we stayed in and made this confetti-themed painting instead. Confetti’s become a staple in my work since then.
My friends are a huge source of inspiration. Sometimes that inspiration is as simple as watching them pursue their own practices and hone their crafts, which inspires me to do the same. Colin is someone I’ve made work with and around for a long time. I wouldn’t say our work is similar, necessarily, but it’s definitely in dialogue.
You recently showed a cool rug in the Spring/Break Art Show. What was the idea behind the piece? It's got a pretty unique shape.
The theme of the Spring Break Art Show this year was “Medieval”. The first thing that came to mind was making a rug for the space in the shape of a moat—a large square border with a small opening in the middle of one of the sides. I liked the idea of walking into the room and through the gap in the rug, so the viewer would have to be within the circumference of the rug to look at the art on the walls. It was the biggest rug I’ve made so far, but it came from a pattern that my followers are pretty familiar with, the Blob Rug, which normally has a cream background. I used a blue background for the moat piece to resemble water.
You’ve just launched a very nice website where folks can buy your rugs. Congrats! How do you balance the business end of being an artist with the actual studio work?
It’s been a bit challenging trying to find a balance between tufting rugs vs. promoting and selling them. I love creating in the studio, and prefer that to the back-end work like photographing final products, updating my website, and promoting myself. I’m still trying to get better at all that stuff.
What do you like to do when you’re not tufting?
I love spending time outside, whether it’s going for a walk around Brooklyn or popping into NYC galleries, going for long bike rides, or playing basketball. I try to hang out with friends whenever I can, especially now that things are opening up again.
What do you know now about tufting now that you wished you’d known in the beginning?
To be honest, it’s all little things like using two strings of yarn instead of one, or that prep work makes all the difference by saving time in the long run and leading to a solid, final rug. One thing that has totally been a game-changer for me is using buzzers to clean up my lines as I work, before going onto the next color, instead of just trimming everything at once at the end.
There are so many different stages to tufting—from building the frame to stretching the cloth, from sketching out the rug to mapping it on the cloth, to then tufting the rug, gluing, cutting, hemming, backing and trimming it. People don’t think about all these steps when they’re looking at a final rug, but they’re all truly important in leading to a quality end-product.
What are you excited to tuft next?
I’m really excited to start tufting bigger pieces. I used to be hesitant about making larger rugs because they’re typically more expensive to make and harder to sell. Luckily, I’m starting to get to a place where I feel more comfortable putting extra time and money into a single piece, and I’m glad that people have been interested in them.
Ok everyone. The next six weeks are gonna be tough. There’s travel to plan, weird Zoom parties to attend, family to navigate, Mariah Carey to un-stick from your head . . . and of course, presents to buy! Ideally gifts that are unique, affordable, and for sale somewhere other than Amazon. No pressure!
We hope this little guide will help you narrow down something for everyone on your list, from the most seasoned tufter to that family member who still has no clue what tufting is. And we've tried hard to select crafty objects that are ethically made by small businesses, artists, and designers, so you can focus on more important things this season.
Happy shopping, and happy holidays!
For your mom, partner's mom, anyone's mom:
These sweet contemporary needlepoint kits by Unwind Studio work like paint-by-numbers, except instead of a deer drinking from a mountain stream, crafters will create a colorful, artist-designed composition. From $32 - $50.
For your dad, who's super supportive of your practice:
Tuft the World's cute T-shirts come in a variety of colors and designs, like the Tuft Tuft Tuft Tee in Rust. Choose from either Classic or Fitted, for a look to suit every shape and personality. $24 each.
For your friend who needs something to hold other than their phone:
Solid wood pom-pom makers from Pom Maker come in a variety of sizes and sweet designs, like this one, inspired by a pistachio macaron. $18.
For your brother, whose apartment walls are bare:
Limited edition prints are a unique gift, especially for the person in your life who might not seek out original art on their own. Plus, win-win, you’re supporting an artist! We love this Still Life by Darien Birks designed for YOWIE, a perfectly curated Philadelphia boutique. $60.
For your partner, who's been watching tufting TikToks for the last 16 months but still hasn't tried it:
Tuft the World’s Tufting Starter Kit includes all the basic supplies your aspiring tufter needs: a machine that creates either cut or loop piles, one yard of our premium tufting cloth, and an easy-to-assemble wood frame. They’ll be making you a custom “Thank You” rug in no time! $365 (or save 20% during our Black Friday Sale!)
For your office Secret Santa:
Bauhaus Around You is a deck of creative prompts that “challenges users to find classic design styles and ideas in their everyday environments.” ‘Cause there’s an artist inside everyone, even your grumpiest colleague! By Form Function Studio, $28.
For your sister, who already has every pair of shoes ever:
Maybe it's time she made her own? Shoemaking kits from Portland-based Rachel Sees Snail include supplies and instructions to create cute mules, Mary Janes, or sandals in a variety of colors and styles. If the kits are out of your budget, Rachel's new sandalmaking book is less of a splurge. Kits, $140 - $250. The Sandalmaking Workshop, $30.
With this adorable alphabet sidewalk chalk set, your favorite little ones can doodle outside and practice their ABCs at the same time. One of many hand-made chalks by TWEE, a woman-owned Philly business committed to biodegradable and non-toxic products. $42.
For the graphic designer you've been hanging out with long enough that maybe you should get them a gift (but one you’ll also want to keep, in case things fizzle before the holidays . . . ):
A museum gift shop favorite, these gorgeous Gradient Puzzles come in color spectrums for every mood, and range from 100 to 1,000 pieces. Bring on the snow days! Designed by Bryce Wilner for Area Ware, $15 - $35.
For you, so you can bring your tufting gear to your parents’ house over winter break:
Finally, a tote large enough to accommodate your entire yarn collection! And in complementary colors to match. The Schlepperfrom STATE the label is 100% cotton and hand sewn in the U.S.A. in small batches. Shown in Circus, but you're gonna love the Studio print, too. $100 - $125.
For your favorite beginner, intermediate, or advanced tufter:
This one’s easy! Give the gift of creative freedom with a Tuft the World Gift Card. Available in amounts ranging from from $25 - $500.
For just about anyone:
Does someone you know have a floor? They probably need a rug! Between social media, Etsy, and irl craft fairs, there's a proliferation of tufters selling amazing work. Our own Instagram, full of cool rugs by global makers, is a great place to start your search!
It’s hard to look at a Melissa Monroe tufted purse (or a mask, a rug, a painting, or a video, for that matter) without smiling. Across her wide-ranging studio practice, cartoon faces provoke, figures dissolve into abstraction, and “mistakes” are embraced as anything but. The result is a language of imagery that feels as psychedelically weird as it does intimate.
The story of how Monroe came to art-making is something of a modern fairytale. At twenty six, she was married with three kids and “pretty unhappy. Just kind of going through the motions of life.” One day, while working at a coffee shop in her hometown of Portland, Oregon, Monroe was inspired by an artist named Jesse Reno, who was painting a mural in the shop.
“I said to him, ‘People still paint?’ because in my mind, to be a painter you had to make representational art, or be in museums or something. I didn't know about the local art scene; I’d never even been to a gallery.” Melissa went home that night and found some supplies around the house from her then-husband’s construction job. “I broke glass, poured paint on it, splatted and dripped on a piece of wood. I felt alive. I let out all my emotions. Within a year, I’d left my husband and gained new confidence through community and creating.”
Now Melissa lives in her combination house/studio in Portland with her children and Reno, who is now her partner in both art-making and life. She and I spoke on the phone and over email about her world.
I’m so inspired by your non-traditional path into the studio. How did you go from discovering that you really loved to paint to making it your job?
By late 2012 I was painting almost every day with Jesse. By then we’d actually purchased the coffee shop with a couple of other business partners, but in mid-2014 we lost it. It’s a long story, but ultimately I was left without income to support myself and my children. Finding a new job with flexible hours proved difficult. I felt like the only action I could take was to try to sell my art. Within a few months I was selling on Ebay and at local events, and for the first five years, I was living art sale to art sale. Painting was all I wanted to do. Every chance I got I was creating, learning, and refining my style. I think it helped that I was poor, and had always been poor, because I was used to scrapping by and budgeting.
What first appealed to you about tufting?
At the beginning of the pandemic my sister sent me a link to a tufter. I was immediately fascinated by the process. At that time I didn't feel comfortable spending the money, but I spent hours watching videos. I have always wanted to create textile work but haven't had the patience, so with the quickness of tufting I was all in. Eventually I ordered supplies, then waited impatiently for weeks as I researched everything tufting.
What is your process like in the studio? Your work strikes me as coming from a pretty intuitive place, but it’s also really consistent across mediums.
Most of the time I just go for it. When I paint, I tend to put down layers and layers without a plan. With the masks, I'll draw a basic shape and start tufting. I work color by color, starting with one color and then considering, “What will look best next to this color?”, adding shapes as they come to me. Knowing in advance how a piece will look finished seems like a setup for disappointment. I'd rather be surprised by the outcome.
Of course, “just going for it” doesn’t always work. More recently I’ve been experimenting with different ways to plan my pieces while still keeping things loose. For example, I made a piece replicated from a collage I had created out of Vogue magazine clippings. I also tufted a piece inspired by one of my paintings, by doing a basic sketch and then just looking at the painting while tufting. Even so, I still make decisions in the moment, as I’m working. What color do I want next to this color, to create contrast or shadow? What shape will make this composition work?
The tufted mask is such a cool idea, but even before you were tufting, you were making paper mâché and latex masks. What interests you about masks?
