Migration in Dialogue – Kathie Halfin
Kathie Halfin, Climbing Up My Spine, Blooming In My Thoughts (2024). Sisal rope, hand spun and hand dyed paper yarn, raffia paper yarn, 75” x 45.5” x 50”. Courtesy of the artist.
Kathie Halfin’s fiber art displays her fascination with plants and community. Raised in both Ukraine and Israel, she moved to Brooklyn in her adulthood. Halfin feels that not one place represents her; all three do. Her current work, The Thread That Holds (2024), displays the relationship that she feels with her art, as well as physically representing her environment and the act of creating community. As a part of IMPULSE’s Migration in Dialogue series, Halfin highlights how Donna Haraway and tentacular thinking inspire her work, the importance of her community in Brooklyn, and her path towards US citizenship.
Julia Norkus: I’ve read that you were born in Ukraine, raised in Israel, and currently work in Brooklyn. Is there any one place that you most identify with?
Kathie Halfin: I'm a multicultural person. I don't identify with one place only. Maybe that's something special about me. I connect to all these places, and they define me and who I am. I moved from Ukraine to Israel when I was 16. I lived in Israel for 16 years, and I’ve lived [in Brooklyn] for 11 years. Each language I learned along the way means something different and unique to me. I have friends in each place. Now I live here, and I’ve built my life here. Each place is meaningful for who I am. I don't have any one particular identity. They all constitute my identity as a whole.
Studio portrait of Kathie Halfin. Courtesy of the artist.
JN: What was it like growing up in Ukraine?
KH: It was not an easy experience for me. I lived through the collapse of the Soviet Union, which was part of the reason why we moved to Israel. A huge number of immigrants from the former USSR had moved to Israel at that time.
Economically, it was a difficult time. My parents lost their jobs, so we had to work in a market and sell different kinds of goods from Turkey. Survival was brutal then—some people recovered from it, but others didn't. It was quite an intense experience for everyone who experienced the collapse of the whole country. I think the region is still dealing with that, including this war and invasion that is happening right now.
JN: You previously had a performance piece titled Flower to Empower (2022), which discussed Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. With the current conflict between Israel and Palestine, having been raised in Israel, are there any feelings or statements that you are trying to make with your current work, The Thread That Holds (2024)?
KH: No, I’m not trying to make any political statements in my work. I had a lot of personal thinking through all these experiences, and if you ask me about the war, of course, I'm against the war. I don't think that anybody deserves to die; no one deserves to be killed by anybody else. I just don't think it is fair.
I was processing the war in Ukraine for two years, and I did my last performance on Oct. 6, 2023, as a part of The Immigrant Artist Biennial. And on Oct. 7, this ongoing war unraveled. It's horrible. Nobody should be killed. If you ask me what I hope for, I hope for a two-state solution, although it doesn't look like it's possible right now. But I'm not making any work about it, because, for me, after the war in Israel and Palestine started, I felt very depressed. It was very, very hard to process because I was already processing the war in Ukraine. I had to take care of myself and create something for myself—and maybe also for others—that gives me hope, because I completely lost hope; whatever is going on in our world right now is unbelievable, but it’s the sad reality that is given, and sometimes we have to live [in] this reality.
Kathie Halfin, Wisteria Spoke To Me (2023). Hand-dyed and hand-spun paper, sisal rope, 85” x 43” x 4”. Courtesy of the artist.
JN: What influenced your current work, The Thread that Holds (2024)?
KH: I have a lot of influences, and right now, I focus mainly on plants, such as the wisteria vines that grow in my garden, through observation. I'm traditionally trained as a weaver, but I also develop and build my own looms from frames and pipes to create three-dimensional structures.
I also work with shamanic practice, and I'm very inspired by Donna Haraway and her perspective on tentacular thinking. “Tentacular” comes from the word “tentacle,” a sensory organ that can feel around, learn from the environment, adapt, and connect. Those are very important ideas for me: tactility, sensory experience, and how these aspects affect the adaptation and growth of plants and maybe humans as well. An exhibition that I curated in my studio space is about that. I invited different artists with whom I'm in dialogue, who also happen to work with this theme. They express sensory experience through a personal lens. Sometimes, I can see tentacles as human fingers, hair, or vines. These experiences can connect and create narratives that are intersecting and overlapping.
JN: You mentioned interconnectedness in your process of spinning paper into yarn. Does the feeling of having this “hand touch” provide you with a closer feeling of connection with your work?
KH: Absolutely. For me, sensory experience is a part of my connection with the material and other beings because I’m inspired particularly through sensory experience.
Kathie Halfin, Despite The Gloom (2023). Hand-dyed and hand-spun paper, sisal rope. 40” x 40” x 3”. Courtesy of the artist.
JN: What brought you to Brooklyn?
KH: Well, community. I have always been inspired by community and have always worked to build it for myself, as it was never given to me. I don't take it for granted. Being an immigrant, I've had to take care of myself and consciously create my community. Brooklyn, for me, held that kind of promise, and it truly turned out to be a beautiful experience. I first moved to Bushwick, where I had a studio for a couple of years. Now, I have a studio in Sunset Park. I feel that if you reach out, there are many people—artists, curators, writers, and others in the creative community—with whom I can engage in meaningful dialogue. That’s what draws me to Brooklyn.
I also want to talk about my recent experience during New York Textile Month. I was part of an exhibition featuring Nordic artists. Interestingly, I was the only artist who wasn't Nordic but Ukrainian-Israeli. This year, I received American citizenship, so I guess I can now add "American" to my identity.
This experience was both surprising and fascinating for me because I felt at home among the Nordic artists, sharing in the exploration of textiles. While my background and experiences with the people who influenced me during my upbringing shaped who I am today, I realized that I share a lot with others through my medium and my artwork. Sometimes, this connection through art feels even more important than my background. Connecting with people who are passionate about the same medium gave me a strong sense of belonging, and I discovered that we share many similar ideas about textiles.
I have always looked to European artists and their work with textiles. They have strong traditions in this field while also pushing for innovation and finding new solutions, particularly in areas like sustainability and how to view and treat the environment differently.
Participating in New York Textile Month, curated by Ragna Froda, who is Icelandic and organizes the event annually, was truly meaningful for me. It was a significant moment, and I felt immensely grateful to be part of this community.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
