I’m trying to keep up a sort of regular ‘feature’ on über embroiderers on The Smallest Forest: These are the big kids, the crème de la crème, the leet of needle and thread…that runts like me long to play with, but will never even exist in the same universe with. *stabs herself with a #24 chenille* Oh, crewel world!
✂ – - – ✂ – - – ✂ – - – ✂
Japanese-Canadian Takashi Iwasaki‘s reputation as an embroiderer has been established for nearly a decade, and his luminously colored Expressionist-style embroideries will be familiar to most stitching enthusiasts. But that’s no reason not to swoon, once again, all over the gallery of his textile works.
I never tire of looking at his embroidery…the imagination and exuberance in each one, color and form hanging in perfect balance, and executed so meticulously. His work fires the mind and fattens the heart.
On his website, he makes this brief statement:
Most of my recent works (after 2009) are either visual recording of my daily life or visualization of my imaginary worlds or landscapes that no one would see unless otherwise depicted; whereas my earlier works have been mostly focused on their formal qualities.
Those recent works may appear to be abstract on the surface, however, most shapes and colors have meanings and origins that are very significant to me in the way I feel them, therefore they are very representational and are reflection of my state of mind.
Things that I feel are never the same in the next moment because I keep changing. Capturing moments and sharing my visions with others have been my recent obsession and pleasure.
His drawings, collages and paintings are every bit as wonderful as his embroideries. On a rainy morning like today’s, it is pure bliss to sit with a full mug of hot coffee, and just slowly savour each of the many, many works in his online gallery…a hearty breakfast for the soul.
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
—Rumi (transl. by Coleman Barks)