Maris Van Vlack’s “Time Warp” Teaches Us About Ourselves
Installation view of Maris Van Vlack: Time Warp. Courtesy of Superhouse
Galleries that sit on the street level often allow people to get a glimpse of the work without having to actually walk into and interact with the space. Upon entering Superhouse’s sixth-floor gallery, however, I’m reminded of the simple, almost routine act of visiting someone’s home, taking in the space’s history. There is an intentionality required here; you’re not merely poking your head in but are consciously engaging with the space. If anything, I feel invited into a space of seclusion, contemplation, and privacy.
At Time Warp, Maris Van Vlack’s first solo show in New York City, I am immediately struck by feelings of familiarity and comfort. Her sculptures are so carefully and meticulously placed to surround the space. We’re meant to exist with and inside these works. I go back to familiarity––something that fiber art brings up time and time again. Weaving can be a mode of remembering and historicization, especially as it is a medium often less acknowledged. As the show’s press release explains, Van Vlack’s work is part of leading the more recent shift towards more appreciation of fiber art.
Maris Van Vlack, Cornerstone (2023). 28 W x 56 H in (71.1 x 142.2 cm), hand-knotted mixed fibers, Stoll knitting, and embroidery. Courtesy of the artist and Superhouse
The first work I encounter is Cornerstone (2023). The structure is suspended from the ceiling, which, given the exhibition’s title, instantly feels like an intriguing play with time. Cornerstone isn’t bound to a wall or stuck to the ground; instead, it is suspended between the past and present. An image of human activities and architectural details is woven in blue, distinct from the red fibers that frame it. The figures appear almost anonymous, and the space they occupy is mysterious. Van Vlack works closely with archival materials, evoking and utilizing family photographs and histories to explore an implicit subtext of connectivity and kinship. But this reference isn’t entirely known to the viewer; the past and the present become intricately linked via the coexistence of unknowns and discoveries.
Detail of Cornerstone (2023) by Maris Van Vlack. Courtesy of the artist and Superhouse
I linger on the photographic details, wondering what the original image must have looked like. Cornerstone appears like a page taken from a family album that has existed for many years, which only strengthens the deeply diaristic, historical nature of fiber art—a medium whose making is inextricably tied to sustained labor and the passage of time. The photograph is almost like a room nestled in the larger red structure that acts as a house. While the human figures’ faces are obscured, their silhouettes feel familiar, as if shadows of some old friends.
Maris Van Vlack, Facade (2023). 88 W x 100 H in (223.5 x 254 cm), hand-woven mixed fibers, Stoll knitting, jacquard weaving, and paint. Courtesy of the artist and Superhouse
Facade (2023) is grand, with three images—likely of the artist’s family—embedded in the structure. Like a family heirloom, it is reminiscent of a bygone time. The photographs are treated differently, both with hints of blue paint. Moreover, the placement of these images is akin to a family tree––two figures above one, perhaps suggesting a connection. This is consistent with the show’s overarching exploration of the notion of family, disrupting the tradition of what these lineages could mean. The title of the work, Facade, is especially striking too––a word with a dual meaning that only adds more to the mystery of Van Vlack’s characters. Additionally, Facade alludes to other binaries––the notion of sculpture being both temporary but enduring, fragile but meant to live beyond us. Van Vlack’s practice works toward ideas of sculpture as deconstruction and subsequent recreation, looking at what already exists and rebuilding it.
Maris Van Vlack, Storm Dispersing (2024). 80 W x 80 H x 11 D in (203.2 x 203.2 x 28 cm), hand-wove mixed fibers and rope, jacquard weaving, industrial knitting, and paint. Courtesy of the artist and Superhouse
Storm Dispersing (2024) hangs directly in front of a window, expanding the interior space. It looks like a blanket, one that has been used and loved. The piece is embodied with a kind of warmth that wraps around your body as you walk around it. In her article, “Fiber Art Is Finally Being Taken Seriously,” Julia Halperin writes, “To take fiber art seriously is to understand how fabric is inextricably linked to the body and is in many ways an extension of it: We wear it, we sleep under it, we are wrapped up in it when we are born and we are buried in it when we die.” Storm Dispersing reminds us of the multitudes of fiber art, and how we exist as part of its history.
At the end of Time Warp, I return to the exhibition’s title. The Oxford English Dictionary suggests a time warp to be an imaginary distortion of space, one that allows people and objects to travel back and forth. Fiber art, by nature, almost allows its creator to alter the course of time; through making and looking, artists and viewers go back in time and then return to where we are. It is natural to feel haunted by time when encountering these works. But Van Vlack doesn’t unsettle or confuse us in her imagined space; in fact, we know exactly where we are. If anything, Time Warp feels real and not imaginary. We leave understanding ourselves more profoundly in relation to fiber art.
Maris Van Vlack: Time Warp is on view at Superhouse from September 6th to October 19th, 2024.
