Julia John
Statement
A series of questions that led me here
June: When I stood in the wind and photographed the sand, I received evidence of the movement of the air, something usually only perceptible as goosebumps. Could I make a collection of textiles that heightened the sensation of cloth against the skin?
September: I sat on the ground and stared at what I had made. Why must a garment rely on a body? What does the container become when the form that fills it is absent?
November: I weave on a simple frame joined with a few nails, wobbling against the wall of my bedroom. I thread the warp: I fill my lungs as I stretch my body upward, pulling my arm out as if shooting a bow, then I exhale, folding my limbs into a ball against the floor. Is there meaning in this labor, in these rhythmic motions?
January: I leave school each day with more questions than answers on how to be the person that each student needs. Can I spin uncertainty into curiosity? I want my students to know that purposeful doing becomes knowing, that there is intelligence in intuition, and that surprising things happen when teacher and student wonder alongside each other.
Teaching (MAT) Students