Meet Your Representative Amy Meissner
Hand stitching isn’t fast work.
It’s a quiet skill that feels tenuous, nearly lost when placed in a contemporary context. Slipping away like childhood, like domesticity, like safety beneath the weight of something handmade. I sew because I don’t know what it is to not sew, despite the connotation of “minor art” or “women’s work,” and it’s this expectation of what the quilt form is — protective, warm, decorative — so much like the definition of the domestic role, that compels me to push against it. I take the traditional, beautiful handwork I was taught as a girl, then later as a professional seamstress and couch it within the painful, uncomfortable or frightening — a collision of personal history, family and inner fear. My intent is to create thoughtful, arresting, narrative work, which subsequently stirs each viewer’s personal history, much like memoir.
This is an act of cutting apart, then piecing oneself back together.