i

Thinking Through Crafting
An Examination of Material Exploration as a Way of Inquiry
BY XIAOYIN LUO
BFA Printmaking and Publication, OCAD University, 2022

A thesis support paper submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for
the degree of

MASTER OF FINE ARTS
Emily Carr University of Art & Design
2024

© Xiaoyin Luo 2024

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Abstract
This thesis research project focuses on the transformative potential of
repurposed fibre materials, exploring the role of craft as a medium for artistic
inquiry and expression. Through a series of experimental paper sculptures and
textile installations, this research investigates the potential of craft to navigate,
engage and process the existential unease provoked by the problematic state of
the current world. By engaging with the tactile and sensuous qualities of materials,
the project seeks to establish a dialogue between human and non-human entities,
highlighting craft’s capacity to foster a deeper appreciation and connection with the
world we inhabit. This thesis project proposes crafting as a vital methodological
approach for exploring and expressing the complexities in many of the current
crises, advocating for a reimagined engagement with our material surroundings.

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Dedication
I would like to dedicate this thesis to my loving parents, whose unwavering
support and encouragement have been the cornerstone of my educational journey.
It is through their sacrifice that I have been afforded the opportunity to pursue my
studies and conduct this research. Their belief in me has been a constant source of
motivation and strength.

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Table of Contents
Abstract....................................................................................................................... ii
Dedication ................................................................................................................. iii
Table of Contents ...................................................................................................... iv
List of Figures............................................................................................................. iv
Acknowledgement .....................................................................................................vii
Glossary ..................................................................................................................... ix
The Feeling of Unease ................................................................................................ 1
Positionality ................................................................................................................. 6
Crafting Antidote ...................................................................................................... 11
Material Exploration.................................................................................................. 17
Gathering ....................................................................................................... 20
Transforming .................................................................................................. 24
Sheet to Thread .................................................................................. 28
Weaving ......................................................................................................... 32
Collaboration in Craft ............................................................................................... 36
Nidification ............................................................................................................... 40
Crafting Space .......................................................................................................... 45
Chapter Closure ........................................................................................................ 53
Bibliography.............................................................................................................. 59

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Lists of Figures

Fig. 1

Xiaoyin Luo, Thinking Paper: Metamorphosing (installation view), 2023. /5

Fig. 2

Xiaoyin Luo, Experiential Mapping, 2023. /12

Fig. 3

Xiaoyin Luo, Nidification (2nd version), 2023. /13

Fig. 4

Reed grasses that the artist gathered. /19

Fig. 5

The construction site near Hinge Park along False Creek, where the artist
gathered the reed grass. /19

Fig. 6

Documentation of Caitlin ffrench and the black cotton barks she gathered.
/21

Fig. 7

Documentation of indigo harvest at ECU Oasis Garden. /22

Fig. 8

Laser cutting on reed grass paper (detail). /23

Fig. 9

Experiential installation demonstrating laser-cut and folded reed grass
paper (details), 2022. /23

Fig. 10 Documentation of the paper casting process. /23
Fig. 11 Documentation of paper rocks and paper blankets demonstrating paper
casting with the crochet technique. /23
Fig. 12 Documentation of black cotton barks after simmering in soda ash solution
for five hours. /24
Fig. 13 Kyougi sheet. /24
Fig. 14 Documentation of black cotton barks after beating in the paper Hollander
beater for ninety minutes. /25
Fig. 15 Documentation of reed grass in pulp form after beating in the paper
Hollander beater for ninety minutes. /25
Fig. 16 Paper blanket made with black cotton bark and abaca pulp and quilted
together with crochet technique, 2023. /26
Fig. 17 Paper Hollander beater at the ECU printmaking studio. /28

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Fig. 18 Documentation of the kami-ito-making process: washi paper being folded
and cut (details). /28
Fig. 19 Documentation of the kami-ito-making process: preparing for resting on a
damp cloth overnight. /29
Fig. 20 Documentation of the kami-ito-making process: rolling the paper strips on
cement blocks. /29
Fig. 21 Documentation of the kami-ito-making process: after the rolling process,
paper stripes are twisted in thread form (detail). /30
Fig. 22 Documentation of the kami-ito-making process: Spinning the paper thread
with a box charkha. /30
Fig. 23 Kami-ito spun on the bobbin and prepared in a skein. /31
Fig. 24 Illustration of plain-weave structure. /32
Fig. 25 Reed grass kami-ito weaving sample. /33
Fig. 26 Reed grass kami-ito weaving sample. /34
Fig. 27 Xiaoyin Luo, Untitled (installation view), 2023. /37
Fig. 28 Xiaoyin Luo, Nidification (1st version), 2023. /41
Fig. 29 Hei Yu, 草·书 | ⾦刚经 Verses by Rushes: Diamond Sutra, 2021. /42
Fig. 30 Hei Yu, 草·书 | ⾦刚经 Verses by Rushes: Diamond Sutra (detail), 2021. /43
Fig. 31 Xiaoyin Luo, Nidification (2nd version) (detail), 2023. /46
Fig. 32 Xiaoyin Luo, Experiential Mapping (detail), 2023. /47
Fig. 33 Mackenzie Frère, (im)material beauty (installation view), 2005. /48
Fig. 34 Xiaoyin Luo, Thinking Paper: Metamorphosing (installation view), 2023. /49
Fig. 35 Draft for Thinking Paper: Metamorphosing installation planning. /50
Fig. 36 Evelyn Roth, Environment for Reading Recycled from 110 Sweaters, 1974.
/51
Fig. 37 Xiaoyin Luo, Nidification, MFA Thesis Exhibition, 2024. /54
Fig. 38 Xiaoyin Luo, Experiential Mapping, MFA Thesis Exhibition, 2024. /56

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Acknowledgements
Over the past two years, I have had the privilege of living, studying and
creating on the traditional, ancestral and unceded territories of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm
(Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh Úxwumixw (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh)
Nations, currently known by the colonial name Vancouver. As an uninvited guest, I
am deeply honoured to respectfully engage with and learn from these Indigenous
lands.
I am grateful for the opportunity to gather materials from this land and
collaborate with them to foster a meaningful connection and sense of belonging to
this place. These experiences have prompted me to continuously reflect on my own
identity as a migrant from China, living on lands taken without consent. With
gratitude and appreciation, I commit to honouring and respecting the Coast Salish
Territory during my time here as a visitor.
The pursuit of this MFA would not have been possible without the
unconditional support of my family. I want to thank my father, Luo Jianhua, for
always believing in me and supporting me to explore this world in my own way. I
want to thank my mother, Lin Xueying, for nurturing me with love and care and
fueling my body and research journey with her cooking. Thank you, Toasty, for
always cuddling, accompanying, and mentally supporting me during challenging
times.
The support of my cohort over these two years at Emily Carr University has
been indispensable. I am thankful to Abbi, Aiden, Caitlin, Emily, Faria, Geoffrey, Kai,
Kevin, Leah, Paul and Zoë for their care, friendship, mentoring and support. I could
not have asked for a better team to get through these two years. A special thanks to
my dearest studio neighbour Caitlin ffrench, who has generously fueled me with
knowledge of plants on this land, bringing native plant fibers into my practice, and
teaching me so much about these materials.

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I must express my gratitude to the Soft Shop technician, Jen Hiebert, for
taking her time and patiently teaching me the art of weaving, guiding me through
each step of the learning process, and sharing her endless weaving knowledge and
resources. I also want to acknowledge Sabrina Sachiko for introducing to the
practice of Japanese kami-ito making and mentoring me through the process; this
traditional craft has significantly illuminated my research.
I want to thank Yang Hong for advising and assisting with my installation, for
checking in on the cohort, and for maintaining the graduate studio. I would also like
to thank Sara Osenton for listening to my writing struggles as an ESL student and
providing support for this exhibition support paper.
Last but not least, I want to thank all the exceptional faculty at Emily Carr for
their faith in my work, especially my supervisor, Diyan Achjadi, for the opportunity to
be her advisee. Her guidance and insight into craft and cultural practice have been
inspiring and encouraging, urging me to approach craft from a diverse perspective.
A special mention to my internal and external reviewers, Beth Howe and Holly
Schmidt, for taking the time to engage with my practice and research and offering
their generous feedback. I want to thank my seminar instructors, Mimi Gellman, Alla
Gadassik, Bopha Chhay and Randy Lee Cutler, for answering my many questions,
sharing their unique perspectives and expanding my research. I would also like to
thank my studio instructors, Ingrid Koening, Lauren Marsden, Emily Hermant,
Christine Howard Sandoval, and Brendan Tang, for supporting me in many
endeavours and encouraging me to embrace experimentation in my practice. I also
want to acknowledge Gilly Mah for her supervision in teaching and giving me the
opportunity to assist and partner in the Foundation Interdisciplinary Studio Core
course.
My master’s degree at Emily Carr University would not have been possible
without all those mentioned above. Thank you.

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Glossary
abaca: A banana plant usually raised in
the Philippines; it is also known as
Manila hemp.
bast fibre: The inner bark fibres from
woody plants (shrubs and trees).
When this inner bark is separated
from the outer bark, it can be used
in papermaking, thread spinning
and other forms of textile.
beater: Commonly refers to the paper
Hollander beater (see Hollander
beater). It is a piece of equipment
used in the fibre preparation stage
for papermaking, it shreds and
plasticizes fibre material by beating
it with rotation of bars of flat-end
blades in the machine.
beating: The mechanical or manual
treatment of fibre materials to
soften it. This stage prepares the
fibre for hydrogen bonding, which
occurs in the papermaking and
drying process. The duration of
beating time also affects the
finished result of the paper in
various ways.
bobbin: A spool that holds the weft
(see weft) threads on a boat shuttle
(see shuttle).
Box Charkha: A portable version of the
traditional spinning wheel from India.

cooking: One of the steps in raw fibre
preparation. Traditionally, wood
ash lye is used as a type of alkali to
remove non-cellulose materials. In
modern papermaking, soda ash
(sodium carbonate) is commonly
used for cooking the raw fibre.
cotton linters: The short fibres that
cling on cotton seed after longer
staple fibres have been removed
during the ginning process. This
fibre material is also a by-product of
the cotton-ginning process.
cotton rag: Any materials made
originally from the long staple fibre
on the cotton seed. This can also be
recycled rags or fabrics that are
made with cotton.
couch: Comes from the French word
coucher – to lay [something] down.
If refers to removing or transferring
the newly formed sheet from the
mould onto a wet felt.
cramming and spacing: Refers to a
technique in weaving to alter the
density and texture of the fabric by
adjusting the distribution of warp
(see warp) thread.
deckle: An open wooden frame that
fits over the mould (see mould); the
frame defines the edge of the sheet
during the formation process.

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felt: A piece of interleaving wool fabric,
which the newly formed paper is
couched.

structure in textiles. It involves an
alternation
of
over-and-under
pattern of warp and weft threads.

gampi: A member of the Thymelaeace
family. It is a low-growth shrub in
Southeast Asia. Gampi fibres are
thin, strong, and lustrous, making
them suitable for producing paper
with wonderful translucency.

pulp: A mass with soft and mushy
quality. It is derived from the
processed wood, plant fibres, or
rags.

Hollander
beater:
A
machine
th
developed in the late 17 century in
the Netherlands. It replaced the
stamping mill in papermaking
factories.
kami-ito: It is a Japanese term for
paper thread, which kami refers to
paper, and ito refers to thread. It
commonly refers to a type of paper
thread made with washi paper and
used for weaving shifu (see shifu).
kozo: A member of the mulberry family,
it is a fibre commonly used in
Eastern papermaking. The fibre
features a long, strong and sinewy
quality.
kyougi sheet: A type of Japanese
paper made from wood shavings.
mould: Pairing with a deckle, it is used
in the formation of paper. It
contains a mesh screen surface to
allow water to drain through it.
plain weave: Also known as tabby
weave. It is the simplest weaving

shaft: This also refers to harness; it is
the frame in which heddles are
suspended. A two/four shaft loom is
a type of weaving loom that
contains two or four shafts that can
be raised and lowered in various
combinations to create different
weaving patterns.
shifu: A Japanese term for a cloth
woven with kami-ito (paper thread)
either in the warp or weft or in both.
shuttle: A tool used to carry the bobbin,
which contains the weft threads
back and forth between the warp
threads on a loom.
spinning: A textile manufacturing
process of transforming fibres into
yarn or thread.
warp: Threads that run vertically along
the length of the loom, crossed by
the weft threads.
weft: Threads that run horizontally
across the loom and interlace with
the warp thread to create a woven
structure.

1

The Feeling of Unease

2

As an artist, my creative research emerges in a time of environmental
collapse, where the reality of climate change poses a significant threat to human
and non-human existence. My research journey is born out of a pressing need to
find navigation through a time of crisis. This thesis research informs a series of
experimental paper sculptures and textile installations with woven objects
fabricated with handmade paper. The exploration is driven by a desire to shed light
in the darkest times, proposing that crafting by hand can serve as a guiding force.
Within my process, I engage in dialogue with curator-scholar Maria Elena Buszek's
edited anthology, Extra/Ordinary Craft and Contemporary Art, which explores "the
sensuous, tactile 'information' of craft media speaks…of a direct connection to
humanity that is perhaps endangered, or at the very least being rapidly
reconfigured in our technologically saturated twenty-first-century lives."1 In this
context, my thesis research is an inquiry into 1) new perspectives on the role of
handmade, 2) the materiality of repurposed fibre material and 3) how to make space
for myself and others to understand our relationship with the world, thus be able to
engage and negotiate the unresolved feelings we have of the environmental crisis.
Over the past five years, I have witnessed a rapid, unusual transformation in
human history. The theoretical discussions about global warming I once
encountered in a science book have now become irrefutable facts. The impact of
this sudden but not-too-sudden collapse has led to numerous natural disasters,
subjecting humans and non-humans to the harsh realities of suffering from life and
death, diseases, and the struggle for shelter. Daily, I am visited with news of the
latest disasters, analytical data, and hypotheses by professionals trending through
social media and movies depicting the apocalypse. The information I involuntarily
encounter daily is overwhelming, plunging me into an abyss that is not whimsical

Maria Elena Buszek, “Introduction,” essay, in Extra/Ordinary Craft and Contemporary Art (Durham, London:
Duke University Press, 2011), 1-19.
1

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like Alice in Wonderland's rabbit hole but a montage illustrating the world's
impending doom.
In "Solastalgia: The Distress Caused by Environmental Change," Australian
environmental philosopher Glenn Albrecht notes that "[new] and powerful
technologies have enabled transitions to occur to the social and natural
environment at a speed that makes adaption difficult if not possible."2 I find myself,
like many others, experiencing this distress, a challenge in navigating through this
"psychological illness" because we are in an information-saturated world. The
discomfort from this experience undermines my sense of belonging to place, the
feeling of loss is enlarged by the disconnection and powerlessness felt in response
to the rapid changes in my living environment. I associate these overwhelmed,
uneased feelings with the term solastalgia. Coined by Albrecht, this term describes
the distress caused by environmental change impacting one’s sense of place and
home3. For me, the feeling of solastalgia doesn’t start from nowhere, nor being
nostalgic. It is from the accumulation of witnessing the drastic transformation of the
land through personal experience and online information feeds.
On July 22, 2021, I received a message from my cousin back home in China.
It was a message of two pictures and a short sentence saying they were safe. I was
confused, shocked and worried because I could not recognize the place in the
photos or identify what happened. Not until later that day I came across online
social media saying that there was a multi-day storm happening in my father’s
hometown, Zhengzhou, and it caused various flash floods in town. My cousin told
me the place in the photos was the tea garden at the foothills of their farm, a place
where I grew up playing with and go visit every time when I travel back to China.
Looking at the documentation of what happened to the land I once lived, a strange
feeling welled up in my body, and it became a sense of soreness or aching that
Glenn Albrecht et al., “Solastalgia: The Distress Caused by Environmental Change,” Australasian Psychiatry 15,
no. 1_suppl (February 2007), https://doi.org/10.1080/10398560701701288, 45.
3
Ibid.
2

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slowly crawled up to my throat. For a very long time, I could not adjust myself to
acknowledge and digest what had happened, and it became a sense of void that I
didn’t know how to address and engage with whenever this topic was brought up.
As I come across more and more news about the natural disasters that
happen to the land globally, I recognize the uneasiness from witnessing the climate
crisis is going to be a mental issue if I leave it as an avoidance. Acknowledging that
the transformation of our living environment is going to be endless, and we don’t
have the power to stop any undesirable changes, I then consider how I can live with
it. I then question how we can approach and process the distress from the rapid
transformation of our living environment. How do we re-establish a caring
relationship with a place that is undergoing various transformations? More
extensively, how does this care become a reimaged way for us to approach and
engage with the world that we live in? Lingering around these questions, my thesis
becomes an exploration of a craft-oriented process that navigates my approach to
the sense of unease. By examining diverse ways of making and engaging with
material surroundings, this research strives to find an alternative for me and others
to slow down, recollect and process amidst to the ongoing crisis.

5

Fig. 1. Xiaoyin Luo, Thinking Paper: Metamorphosing (installation view), 2023. Handmade paper
objects with cotton, abaca, black cotton barks, Japanese indigo stalks, linen thread, handmade
reed grass kami-ito. Photo courtesy of the artist.

6

Positionality

7

Growing up in a typical Chinese middle-class family, I am the first generation
with a keen interest in pursuing a creative career. Since childhood, I have always
received praise from art teachers for my exceptional dexterity with craft, and wanted
to contribute my creative ability to "change or save the world."4 While pursuing my
artistic dream, I discovered a profound connection to various craft practices such as
knitting, embroidery, crochet, ceramics and paper cutting. Engaging in these
activities demanded not only the involvement of my body and mind, but also a
deep connection with the materials at hand.
Transitioning from considering these crafts as mere hobbies, I began
questioning the messages I wanted to convey and the stories these mediums could
tell. Along the way, I realized that I have gradually lost myself in why I do what I do.
It is not about the lack of ability to express myself; instead, it is about the lack of
understanding and knowledge of the world and my relationship to it. With support
from my family, I decided to study abroad and landed in Canada in 2016.
Being away from China and immersed in an entirely different cultural context
has deepened my longing for home. This feeling goes beyond merely lacking a
sense of belonging – culturally and socially – in this foreign land; it encompasses a
disconnect and the loss of attachment to the physical place itself. Over the years,
this feeling of homesickness has shifted and evolved with a concept environmental
philosopher Glenn Albrecht describes as solastalgia – “the pain or sickness caused
by the loss or lack of solace and the sense of isolation connected to the present
state of one’s home and territory.”5 Unlike homesickness (思乡/乡愁), which carries a
hopeful undertone of eventual return to the homeland, solastalgia (乡痛) brings the
realization that the home I yearn for may have irrevocably changed due to the

There is a national saying within the Chinese society that children are the future of the nation, they are
metaphorically described as the “floral” and “backbone” of the motherland. They have the responsibility to
contribute to the future development of the nation or the world.
5
Albrecht et al., “Solastalgia: The Distress Caused by Environmental Change,” 45.
4

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passage of time and environmental shifts.6 This sense of loss is particularly sorrowful
in the state of the current world in which we are constantly bombarded with
messages of troubles. The rapid transformations and the constant feed of
information are hard to digest and react to, and it deepens my sense of alienation
amidst a time of crisis.
Studying printmaking in my BFA at OCAD University not only provided me
an opportunity to explore paper as a medium and learn about the craft of
papermaking, but it also furnished a creative refuge from distressed feelings,
offering a way to engage with the world differently. My introduction to papermaking
in a textile exploration class opened a new avenue for artistic expression that
resonates deeply with my Chinese heritage7. Choosing handmade paper as my
medium not only became a unique way to approach the uneasiness I felt towards
the loss of land back home; it also reflected on my cultural identity from the vantage
point of a foreign land with its distinct language, culture and customs. This process
has fostered a special bond and an intimate feeling with paper as a material I am in
partnership with, elevating it above others in my artistic practice. With this thesis
research, I aim to explore how the act of crafting—particularly working with different
natural fibre materials in papermaking—can serve as a way for approaching and
transforming the sense of solastalgia into a form of engagement and care to this
planet, which I consider home.

In Chinese, SīXiāng (思乡) is defined as homesickness; Xiāngchǒu (乡愁) as nostalgia; and Xiāngtòng (乡痛) as
solastalgia. Among these three words, they all share the character of 乡, which refers to home. The slight
difference in the characters' use of these words indicates the transformation of my longing for home. It started
with uneasiness because of my leave from home; then, it evolved into a yearning for return. And finally, I
realized the home that I desperately longed to return to was no longer there because of the environmental
changes caused by the climate crisis.
6

Paper as a material, one of the Four Great Inventions from ancient China, holds significant cultural importance
in Chinese history. Its origin traces back to the Western Han Dynasty, with substantial advancements during the
Eastern Han Dynasty by Cai Lun, an imperial court official. Cai Lun refined the papermaking process by
incorporating accessible plant fibre materials such as tree bark, hemp, rags, and old fishing nets, significantly
enhancing paper quality. Cai Lun's improvements have profoundly influenced the global paper industry and the
development of human civilization.
7

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In the papermaking process, I recognize that different plant fibres possess
their own languages. My role is to learn how these materials communicate,
understand, and facilitate their active participation in the creative process. This
approach not only allows me to explore the materiality of plant fibres but also to
engage with the world in a manner that bridges my sense of alienation. Working
with craft and the handmade has brought me back to my Chinese culture and
philosophical roots. I grew up with cartoons and folklore that embed the idea of 天

⼈合⼀ (oneness of nature and humans)8 and 万物皆有灵 (everything has a
spirit/soul, or what's typically recognized in English as animism). I remember one of
the books I read as a kid – ⼭海经 (The Classic of Mountains and Seas). This book
discusses Chinese mythology; it not only delves into supernatural beings in Chinese
folklore but also describes each living entity in different geographic regions that are
intricately and spiritually intertwined with their surroundings. Similar to how
mushrooms communicate through mycelium, these living entities collaborate and
support each other, forming a cohesive system of living9.
As I incorporate these philosophical influences into my work, my thesis serves
as a response to the current world. By crafting the narrative of care through
This is a Chinese philosophical theory that man is an integral part of nature. Combining the term analyzation
from Confucianism and Taoism, 天 refers to sky, heaven, the universe and nature; ⼈ refers to humans (my
understanding is it not only relates to humans, but it also includes the non-human); 合⼀ refers to unity, oneness
or wholeness. It refers to the harmony and correspondence between the universe, nature and living bodies.
8

In the mythological book The Classic of Mountains and Seas, there exists a prevalent belief in the animistic
notion that every entity possesses a spirit. This ancient text depicts mountains as abodes of spirits, fostering a
culture/practice of mountain god worship among ancient peoples. These mountains within the Chinese
landscape were rich in resources and considered treasure troves by our ancestors in need of daily necessities.
Yet, the limitation of technological capabilities restricted our ancestors from fully understanding these
landscapes, leaving much unknown and fueling fears of the unseen. These mountains, embodying the unknown,
were believed to be the dwelling places of immortals and the setting of many legends, such as those of Kunlun
Mountain and Mount Buzhou.
The sense of reverence and fear towards these unknowns characterized our ancestors’ attitude towards
mountains and their spirits. They express gratitude for the resources obtained. When they encounter dangers like
attacks from wild animals or poisoning from plants or gases, they attribute these adversities to mountain spirits,
an unwelcome warning, or punishments from the mountain gods. As our ancestors believe in the principle that
“everything has a spirit,” they consider everything on the mountain, living or non-living, as an embodiment of
these divine entities. By attempting to communicate and show gratitude towards these spirits, our ancestors
hope to gain their protection, reflecting a deep spiritual relationship with the natural world rooted in respect,
fear, and the desire to coexist harmoniously.
9

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papermaking, kami-ito (paper thread) making, and weaving, this research not only
provides a way to navigate and react to the unresolved feelings. It also offers a fresh
perspective on understanding our relationship with the world and how we might
interact with it.

11

Crafting Antidote

12

Fig. 2. Xiaoyin Luo, Experiential Mapping, 2023. Woven textiles with cotton thread,
handmade washi kami-ito, reed grass kami-ito, black cotton barks, hand-spun linen thread,
Japanese indigo paper strips. Photo courtesy of the artist.

13

Fig. 3. Xiaoyin Luo, Nidification (2nd version), 2023. Cotton thread, linen thread, handmade
reed grass kami-ito. Photo courtesy of the artist.

14

Craft is not merely a medium searching for potential in creative practices; it is
also an intimate agency allowing exploration of my interconnectedness with the
environment. Influenced deeply by the concept of animism in Chinese culture,
which imbues natural objects and phenomena with spiritual essence, I perceive
physically engaging with material in craft practices as an awakening process. This
belief is encapsulated in the ancestral teaching “万物皆有灵，草⽊皆有⼼”10 (all
things on earth possess a spirit, and every grass and tree has a heart.) This animistic
worldview affects how I perceive materials in my craft and life; I see them as entities
with their own life force, whether animate or inanimate.
I find this perspective resonates with American theorist Jane Bennett’s
Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things, where she argues against the notion of
inert matter. She suggests that the “vitality of (nonhuman) bodies…edible,
commodities, storms, metals…not only to impede or block the will and design of
humans but also to act as quasi agents or forces with trajectories, propensities, or
tendencies of their own.”11 Drawing alignment with Bennett’s perception of the
active role of material, I consider the practice of craft as an approach to engage with
the entanglements of matter and life. Considering materials as living entities in my
practice allows me to acknowledge and respect their material properties and
capacities to inspire, resist and change the way I think. The slow and intricate
process of papermaking and weaving enables me to establish an intimate
partnership with materials and reflect on their active participation in the world.
This is a Chinese philosophical teaching that is passed down through oral history. The concept of animism
appears in a lot of Chinese philosophical and Buddhist teachings such as Zhuangzi (庄⼦), Taipinglun (太平论),
and Fojing (佛经). However, this concept of animism is not directly referenced in all these books; instead, it
emerges through a shared worldview where the natural environment and its constituents are respected and
revered as living beings with whom humans can interact, communicate, and form relationships. I also see this
parallel to British anthropologist Edward B. Tylor’s argument, in which he defined animism as the belief in
spiritual beings and considered it as a fundamental building block in the development of religion. For more on
Tylor’s perspective on animism, please refer to his book Primitive Culture or visit
https://www.britannica.com/topic/animism.
11
Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2010), viii.
10

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Collaborating with material agencies in my practice also provides a way to
understand the dynamic interactions between myself and my living environment.
With a focus on the transformative potential of handmade paper, this thesis
examines the role that craft – more explicitly, the value of handmade – has played in
a time of crisis. In the state of the current world, we are constantly bombarded with
messages of environmental destruction, war, political division, racism and many
other issues. This thesis research focuses not so much on the resolution of these
many conflicts but rather on an approach to grappling with the anxiety and distress
these existential crises leave us. By investigating the significance of repetition in
papermaking, kami-ito-making and weaving in relation to creating a meditative
space for reflection, this research navigates through various transformation stages of
repurposed fibre materials.
This supporting document is divided into five different sections. Firstly, it
delves into the artistic methods applied in this research, focusing on the idea of
materials, materiality, as well as sustainable values of making. Then, the paper
inquires into how making through craft can become a methodology for navigation
by emphasizing its collaborative potential; this section addresses the significance of
making as a process of correspondence that involves both the maker and the
materials. Nidification (fig. 2) and Experiential Mapping (fig. 3) are two bodies of
work created during this research period. While one demonstrates a full cycle of
material transformation as a means for crafting belonging in an unfamiliar habitat12,
According to National Geographic, habitat refers to “[the] environment where an organism lives throughout
the year or for shorter periods of time.” Consisting of food, water, space, and shelter, “a habitat is an
environment that fulfills all the necessary conditions for an organism to survive. Jeannie Evers and Kara West,
eds., “Habitat,” Education, 2023, https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/habitat/.
However, in my understanding, habitat not only indicates a place where I make it home with all the survival
conditions I need physically, but it also refers to a place where I develop a psychological attachment to a long
period of stay. It is more about the connection I develop with the people, natural surroundings, the culture and
the communities within that living environment.
Unfamiliar habitat here refers to a place I live in but feel disconnected from.
12

16

the other explores the sensuous experience offered by textile installations. In the
final section, “Chapter Closure,” I reflect on my two-year research journey,
rethinking the meaning of crafting and marking a continuation for exploring
different possibilities for finding a sense of belonging during difficult times.

17

Material Exploration

18

This thesis project unfolds through a series of paper and textile installations
that embody an exploration of materials with a keen focus on those that are found
or repurposed. This exploration leads to two pivotal bodies of work: Thinking Paper:
Metamorphosing (fig. 1) and Experiential Mapping, which collectively assemble the
experimental samples derived from my material investigations. Nidification is an
evolving woven sculpture that emerges as a distinct yet related exploration within
the Thinking Paper: Metamorphosing installation. This section articulates different
stages of material exploration in my research. Starting from the initial gathering and
repurposing of materials to their transformation, the exploration culminates in
various experimentation samples, emphasizing the process-oriented nature of craft.
Together, this project has served as a physical manifestation of my inquiry into the
role of handcrafted objects and how they can become a way to process the
unresolved feelings associated with our changing environment.

19

Fig. 4. Reed grasses that the artist gathered. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Fig. 5. The construction site near Hinge Park along False Creek, where the
artist gathered the reed grass. Photo courtesy of the artist.

20

Gathering
This research is conducted with a keen awareness of the challenges posed by
mass production and excessive material consumption. Aiming for sustainability in
material use within the studio practice, my fundamental groundings are as follows:
1) Prioritize the use of reusable materials.
2) Set clear limits on resource harvesting and collection.
3) Fully utilizes all existing materials before acquiring new ones.
4) Minimize waste and environmental pollution in the studio practice.
To prepare for my exploration process, I began by sourcing leftover papermaking
materials from my undergraduate studies13. This includes some partially processed
cotton linter and cotton rags, and bast fibres such as abaca, gampi and Thai kozo14.
With a limited supply of these materials, I expanded my search to include other
fibre materials15 found in my local environment.
Reed grass (fig. 4) is a material I gathered near my apartment in Vancouver
from areas where sanitation workers regularly trimmed it around the False Creek
area (fig. 5). Observing the disposal of this organic waste makes me question where
Papermaking consists of two main stages: fibre preparation and sheet formation. In the fibre preparation stage,
papermakers will cook or steam the raw fibre material with soda ash, then rinse the cooked fibres entirely to
remove the soda ash residue and the foreign particles on the fibre. The well rinsed fibre will then be beaten in
the stamper or paper Hollander beater to form into pulp, and ready for the sheet forming stage. Sieve-like
Mould and deckle are used to formation the pulp into a sheet of paper. In a vat of cold water, papermakers will
add in the prepared pulp and mixed it well. Then they will dip the mould and deckle into the vat of pulp and
scoop up a sheet of wet paper. This sheet of wet paper will then be removed from the mould by couching
(pressing) on to a piece of dampened felt and await to be pressed dry.
13

Partially processed fibre materials such as cotton linter and cotton rag are commonly used in the Western
papermaking. They often come as a form of compressed and dried sheet of pulp which the cotton fibre from the
plants is already processed and ready to be used for sheet formation. On the other hand, raw fibres such as
abaca, gampi and Thai kozo refers as the bast fibres (inner-bark fibre) from the tree, they are largely used in the
Eastern papermaking. Where gampi and kozo categorized as the woody bast fibre, and abaca as petiole fibre.
Dried Bast fibres require pre-soaking and cook in soda ash first before beating into pulp and use to for sheet of
papers.
14

Raw materials (fibre based) use in papermaking can be broadly classified into three categories: raw plant fibres,
partially processes fibres, and recycled materials. The variety of fibre materials can be used for papermaking
provides me with the opportunity to explore different plant fibres gathered in Vancouver.
15

21

these materials will end up and what they will turn into. The idea of recycling seems
like the best alternative during the environmental crisis. However, the realities of the
recycling process often overlook the environmental impact of secondary pollution
and industrial labour. Adapting DIY (Do-It-Yourself) ethics16 into my research inquiry,
I obtained permission from the worker to
collect this discarded reed grass and
directly participate in the recycling process.
In addition, my exploration into
handmade paper was enriched by
contributions from my cohort member,
Caitlin ffrench. She generously shared barks
from a fallen black cottonwood tree that
she had gathered while conducting field
research in the Squamish Valley (fig. 6) and
some other plant fibres from her garden.
Our collaborative efforts extended to a
sustainable material practice within our
studio exploration. In spring 2023, ffrench
cultivated some Japanese indigo plants

Fig. 6. Caitlin and the black cotton
barks she gathered. Photo courtesy of
the artist.

together with the self-seeded indigo from
the previous year in the ECU Oasis Garden. This cultivation led to a joint effort in
the fall for a community harvest (fig. 7) and a pigment-making workshop in which
Caitlin focused on creating indigo pigments from the leaves while I gathered the
stalks for papermaking. This collaborative approach not only heightened my
DIY ethics here refers to the principle of personal responsibility in the process of making without the direct
support from the experts. I also associate it with the handmade in craft which emphasizing the creativity and
personal achievement as a way to avoid/reject mass-produced products and the mainstream institutional system
when possible. This grounding is influenced by Elizabeth Garber’s exploration of the ethics and practices of doit-yourself culture within the framework of craft activism. For more of Garber’s argument on the ethics of DIY,
please visit: Elizabeth Garber, “Craft As Activism,” The Journal of Social Theory in Art Education 33 (2013): 55–66,
https://scholarscompass.vcu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1394&context=jstae.
16

22

awareness of the materials I use, but also underscored the potential for crossdiscipline collaborations for utilizing materials to enhance sustainability in
contemporary art practices.

Fig. 7. Indigo harvest at ECU Oasis Garden with Caitlin in spring 2023. Photo courtesy of the artist.

23

Fig. 8. Experimenting laser-cut on reed
grass paper. Photo courtesy of the
artist.

Fig. 9. Experiential installation of reed
grass mobiles; reed grass papers were
laser-cut first, then twist-folder to
create spiral effects, 2022. Photo
courtesy of the artist.

Fig. 10. Paper is wrapped around rocks

Fig. 11. Paper made with abaca and black

and Styrofoam scrap pieces for casting.

cotton bark, quilted in blanket form, and cast

Photo courtesy of the artist.

on a large rock forming a bowl structure. Photo
courtesy of the artist.

24

Transforming
As a fibre material, handmade paper demonstrates a strong materiality
through its fabrication17 and its transformation into creative works. Its flexible
properties enable it to work collaboratively with various artistic mediums. By
questioning what innovative approaches and techniques can be employed to
expand the material vocabulary of papermaking, I aim to push the boundaries of the
conventional use of paper. This phase of studio research reveals the potential and
variability of handmade paper, as I experimented with laser cutting, folding, casting,
and integrating techniques such as crocheting and sewing to investigate the
limitations of this material (fig. 8 to fig. 11). The unique qualities of these handmade
papers crafted from different fibre materials felt like opening Pandora’s box – filled
with both excitement and apprehension about the unknown outcomes of my
experiments.
One notable experiment involved
black cotton bark (fig. 12), a material
markedly different from others like gampi or
kozo fibre I had previously worked on. This
Fig. 12. These black cotton barks are
soaked overnight, cooked and simmered

bark is reminiscent of compressed kyougi18

in a soda ash solution for five hours.

sheets (fig. 13). It is rigid and less fibrous, so

Photo courtesy of the artist.

working with it presents a unique challenge.
Despite my attempts to adopt papermaking
procedures to this bark material, it resisted
my transformation. The unsuccessful
attempts underscored the flaw in my
assumption that all fibres could be

Fig. 13. Example of kyougi sheet found in
the studio. Photo courtesy of the artist.
17
18

Papermaking process of pre-soaking, steaming/cooking, stripping, beating, and sheet forming.
Kyougi sheets are a type of Japanese paper made from wood shavings.

25

manipulated in the same manner (fig. 14 and fig.15).

Fig. 14. After processing with the simmering in
soda ash solution, the black cotton barks are
then cut into small pieces and beaten in the
paper Hollander beater for ninety minutes.
The bark is not beaten into pulp form but
remains in a rigid fibre structure. Photo
courtesy of the artist.

Fig. 15. Reed grass pulp compared with the
black cotton bark “pulp,” where the reed
grass also underwent the same procedure as
the bark. The plant fibre became mushy and
pulpy after being beaten in the Hollander
beater. Photo courtesy of the artist.

26

The experience of “failure” led me to put a pause on this experiment and rethink
my approach to this material. The unsuccessfully processed bark ended up
shredded in small pieces and became an additive in my abaca paper, which I used
as textured paper that provides ridged support for paper casting (fig. 16). The
remaining unprocessed bark became threading material, which I will discuss in more
detail in the “Weaving” section of this chapter. My unsuccessful attempt to
transform black cotton bark underlines the resistance offered by materials, and
echoes the challenges and surprise inherent in artistic practice. This resistance is not
a mere obstacle but an integral part of the material’s agency. It prompts me to
rethink my approach and embrace the material’s contribution to the making.

Fig. 16. Paper blanket made with black cotton bark and abaca pulp and quilted
with crochet technique, 2023. Photo courtesy of the artist.

27

Reflecting on this process, I find deep resonance with the thought of feminist
philosopher Rachel Jones on the concept of not knowing. In her essay, “On the
Value of Not Knowing: Wonder, Beginning Again and Letting Be,” Jones discusses
that the process of being able to unlearn is challenging and vulnerable; however,
embracing uncertainty and the willingness to unlearn opens pathways to new ways
of thinking and possibilities.19 More specifically, being able to let go of the desire
to know – to know it all – “…calls on us to value others in their irreplaceable
uniqueness and difference”20 without forcing our own understanding upon them.
This also mirrors Jane Bennett’s concept of assemblages in Vibrant Matter, where
the interplay between human and non-human forces in papermaking reveals a
collaborative agency. She asserts that “…an actant never really acts alone. Its
efficacy or agency always depends on the collaboration, cooperation, or interactive
interference of many bodies and forces.”21 This experiment taught me the
importance of releasing control and entering a collaborative engagement with
materials with a facilitation approach rather than manipulation. This shift towards
collaboration and openness to the unknown has encouraged me to approach
materials with curiosity, seeking new possibilities without overpowering their innate
characteristics.

Rachel Jones, “On the Value of Not Knowing: Wonder, Beginning Again and Letting Be,” in On Not Knowing,
a Symposium Hosted by Kettle’s Yard and New Hall College (Cambridge: Kettle’s Yard and New Hall College,
2009), 1–8.
20
Ibid, 5.
21
Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2010), 21
19

28

Sheet to Thread – Kami-ito
Switching my focus to reed grass, which I gathered from a construction site
near my apartment for material exploration, marked a remarkable shift in my
papermaking journey. This fibre has a strong
cellulose intertwining characteristic, providing a
mushy and pulpy texture ideal for binding into
paper after it is processed in the paper Hollander
beater (fig. 17). Similar to reed grass, the Japanese
indigo stalk also performed similar qualities,
indicating the potential for diverse material use in
papermaking. These successful experiments
with reed grass and indigo stalks opened new
directions for me to explore the

Fig. 17. The paper Hollander beater at the
ECU printmaking studio, which the artist
uses to conduct her studio research. Photo
courtesy of the artist.

transformational capabilities of paper beyond its conventional two-dimensional
form. Historically, paper played a versatile role in our lives. It was employed not only
for documentation purposes, but was also used in household goods such as bags,
umbrellas, lanterns and even clothes.22 This research
opportunity prompts me to challenge the limits of
material transformation and explore the innovative
potential of handcrafted paper as a medium.
The idea of transforming paper into thread
was inspired by my fascination with staring at the
paper shredder and learning twisting techniques as
part of cordage making at one of the seminar

Fig. 18. Documentation of kami-ito

classes led by Caitlin ffrench. This insight into

making process: washi paper being

utilizing old fabrics or textile materials for rope-

courtesy of the artist.

folded and cut into strips. Photo

Timothy Barrett, Japanese Papermaking: Traditions, Tools, Techniques (Warren, CT: Floating World Editions,
2005), 7.
22

29

making sparked the idea to experiment
similarly with my reed grass paper. In the
summer of 2023, my material exploration
took a significant turn as I connected with
Sabrina Sachiko, a Vancouver-based shifu23
(paper cloth) weaver who is dedicated to
the traditional Japanese craft of making
kami-ito24 (paper thread). Under Sachiko’s
generous guidance, I developed a new set
of technical skills, allowing me to venture

Fig. 19. After cutting the washi paper

into the unexplored possibilities of my

into strips, open it up and lay it flat to

handcrafted paper.

overnight. Photo courtesy of the

Making kami-ito is an intricate and

prepare for resting on a damp cloth
artist.

slow practice deeply intertwined with the
maker’s physicality. Under Sachiko’s
guidance, our workshop begins with
moments of silence and repetitions of deep
breaths to center ourselves into a state of
focus and self-collection. I find the ritualistic
nature of kami-ito making is akin to
papermaking, where both practices involve
repetitive bodily movements that cultivate a
state of meditation. The preparatory
stillness in the maker’s mentality sets a tone

Fig. 20. Damped paper strips will

for the making process. The process starts

overnight. Photo courtesy of the

then be rolled on cement blocks
artist.

Shifu is a Japanese term for a cloth woven with paper thread either in the warp, weft, or both. 1. Hiroko Karuno,
“Shifu: A Traditional Paper Textile of Japan,” DigitalCommons@University of Nebraska - Lincoln, 2016,
https://digitalcommons.unl.edu/tsaconf/977/?utm_source=digitalcommons.unl.edu%2Ftsaconf%2F977&utm_me
dium=PDF&utm_campaign=PDFCoverPages, 254.
24
Kami-ito: Kami means paper in Japanese, ito means thread. Hiroko Karuno, “Introduction,” essay, in Kigami
and Kami-Ito: Japanese Handmade Paper and Paper Thread (Toronto, ON: Hiroko Karuno, 2013), 8.
23

30

by meticulously folding washi papers and
cutting them into 2mm strips while leaving
a one-inch margin at the edge (fig. 18 and
fig. 19). These strips are then laid on a
damp cloth, wrapped in plastic, and left to
rest overnight, allowing the moisture to
soften them for rolling on cement blocks.
The rolling process is a systematic
sequence of gathering, rolling, shaking,
flipping, rolling, shaking, stretching, and
repeating, where the friction between
paper and cement twists the strips into
threads (fig. 20 and fig. 21). The twisted
threads then separate into one continuous

Fig. 21. Frictions between the paper
and the cement will cause the strip to
twist

into

thread

form.

Photo

courtesy of the artist.

thread and are strengthened by spinning25
onto a bobbin with a box charkha26 (fig. 22
and 23). To finish, bobbins are steamed to
set the twist, and after they cool down,
threads are dried in skeins.
This labour-intensive process of
transforming flat paper strips into twisted
threads is meditative yet demands a lot of
patience and preciseness in balancing
pressure and moisture levels in the making
process. According to Sachiko, there is no
singular approach to the rolling technique;

25
26

Fig. 22. The separated paper thread
is spun onto a bobbin with a box
charkha. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Spinning is a textile term, here it refers to the technical twist to the thread for strengthening purposes.
Box Charkha is a portable Indian spinning wheel, it comes in various sizes.

31

it is a personalized process that reflects
the unique characteristics of each type of
paper and the maker’s intuition. This
realization led me to a deeper
understanding – to let the material lead.
The two different fibres in my handmade
papers require adaptation to the rolling
technique with guidance from the paper’s
response to moisture and manipulation.
To work with them, I have to be constantly
engaged in the process.
This interactive dialogue between

Fig. 23. Bobbins and a skein of kamiito. Photo courtesy of the artist.

maker and material resonates with
anthropologist Tim Ingold’s idea that making is a process of correspondence27,
which I will explore further in the following chapter, “Craft as methodology.” In
crafting kami-ito, I engage in correspondence with the material, where through a
back-and-forth conversation between the material and myself, I become a
participator or one of the “materials” in this creation process. To proceed forward, I
have to constantly engage with the materials I process and experience (being in) the
transformation rather than observing (being with) it. This approach emphasizes the
foundational relationship between the maker and the material and has profoundly
influenced my creation process for the thesis project. In the following section,
“Weaving,” I will discuss how I utilized the kami-ito I made and how this artifact
became a transition to sculpture and installation.

27

Tim Ingold, Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, Art and Architecture (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2013), 31.

32

Weaving
Following the thread of kami-ito making, my thesis research extends into an
exploratory weaving practice, where I delve into the materiality and visual qualities
of my handmade kami-ito. With the support of Jen Hiebert, a technician and weaver
at the ECU Soft Shop, Jane Stafford Textile’s online resources, and my MFA cohort,
I began a journey on papermaking and weaving that has gradually revealed the
entanglement between material, time, and space. Echoing the collaborative agency
in materials, weaving, much like papermaking and kami-ito making, became a form
of kinship with the material through the extensive time I spent working with the
loom and the development of the cloth artifact. This kinship developed in the
making process creates a space for me to reflect on the significance of handicrafts in
today’s industrialized society.
The weaving process begins with a chosen pattern that sparks my curiosity.
Instead of predetermining weaving patterns or structures for my thesis projects,
Nidification and Experiential Mapping, I focus on the assemblage of weaving
samples that represent my exploratory journey in this new medium. As a beginner, I

Fig. 24. Draft Illustration from the artist demonstrates the plain-weave structure.
Photo courtesy of the artist.

33

primarily engage with the tabi (plain weave) pattern – a fundamental structure
weaved on a two or four-shaft loom28, and it is characterized by the alternate
crossing – over and under – of warp29 and weft30 threads that bind the fabric tightly
(fig. 24).
I initially aimed for perfection – a cloth that is evenly tensioned with clean
and straight weaving edges – in my plain weave creations; however, I quickly
encountered the learning curve’s inevitable challenges, such as threading mistakes
and tension irregularities. Despite my frustration with the initial imperfections, they

Fig. 25. Weaving sample of reed grass kami-ito in plain weave.
Photo courtesy of the artist.
Shaft also refers to harness; on a loom, it relates to the frame where heddles are suspended. A two/four shaft
loom is a type of weaving loom which contains two or four shafts that can be raised and lowered in various
combinations to create different weaving patterns.
29
Refers to the threads that run vertically along the length of the loom, crossed by the weft threads.
30
Refers to the threads that run horizontally across the loom and interlaced with the warp thread to create a
woven structure.
28

34

Fig. 26. Weaving sample of reed grass kami-ito in plain weave with different cramming and spacing
patterns. Photo courtesy of the artist.

also inspired me to play with the density, spacing and texture of my weaves, mainly
to showcase the unique qualities of my kami-ito. Fig. 25 and 26 are woven examples
of reed grass kami-ito and cotton threads. By adjusting the cramming and spacing
within the weave and incorporating different sizes with the warp and weft threads, I
can highlight the distinctive characteristics of kami-ito, creating textiles with varied
density and an airy, delicate sensibility.
This exploration led me to embrace the inherent irregularities of
handweaving as a form of artistic expression, distinguishing my work from massproduced textiles. The slow, rhythmic interaction with the loom allows me to
integrate experimental materials like the unprocessed black cottonwood bark as the

35

weft with my kami-ito. The interplay between these two materials results in an
unpredictable and animate textile piece (fig. 27). The unexpected outcome enables
me to shift my perception as part of the interacting entities rather than focusing on
the pre-determination of the imagery of the work. This approach aligns with Ingold’s
view on how the world is constructed as “[a] meshwork of entangled lines of life,
growth and movement”31 rather than intersection points connected only by human
agency. Weaving here becomes a metaphor for understanding the
interconnectedness of life and growth in the world I inhabit. I see time as the
foundational warp set in all dimensions, and I become a thread on the shuttle. While
shuttling across space and time, I encounter different entities and dialogues are
created through different ways of interaction. By corresponding to these entities, I
then intertwine with them, move forward, and expand as an interwoven structure – a
“web of life.”32 In the following chapter, I will further explore how craft serves as a
methodological lens to understand potential pathways for coexistence and
connection in our shared environment.

Tim Ingold, Being Alive: Essays on Movement, Knowledge and Description (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge,
2011),
https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Mohamed_Mourad_Lafifi/post/Im_searching_a_list_of_generic_haptic_des
criptors_and_generic_haptic_anomalies_Existing_list/attachment/59d6418579197b807799d7d5/AS%3A43512187
1429633%401480752546806/download/Tim+ingold-being-alive.pdf, 62.
32
Ibid
31

36

Collaborations in Craft

37

Fig. 27. Left: Xiaoyin Luo, Untitled, 2023. Woven cloth with black cotton barks and washi kami-ito.
Right: Photography installation from MFA cohort member, Geoffrey Lok-Fay Cheung. Photo
courtesy of the artist.

38

Through engaging with various crafts, I gradually came to a realization that
the act of making embodies a holistic state where the maker, materials, techniques,
and forms coalesce through constant collaborations. This collaborative essence in
making processes serves as an antidote, allowing us to craft belonging amidst the
overwhelming state of today’s world. This approach also provides a chance and
holds space for individuals to resituate themselves relationally to the current
environment. Anthropologist Tim Ingold encourages us to think about human
making as a form of correspondence, “a process of growth…[where] to place the
maker from the outset as a participant in amongst a world of active materials.”33 My
exploration of papermaking, kami-ito making, and weaving led me to the creation
of works through an active engagement with materials rather than enforcing a
preconceived form in my mind. This process of mutual response between the maker
and the materials is where collaboration happens, and together, they proceed
forward. This approach to materials in making processes reminds me of the
discussion on craft as inherently collaborative, as explored in the book,
Collaboration Through Craft, edited by Amanda Ravetz, Alice Kettle and Helen
Felcey. They describe that “the openness of craft to the contingent and the
unknown – the maker’s ability to respond to the interwoven lines of the meshwork
of which they are part – is an important key to craft’s social character and its
collaborative potentials.”34 While Ravetz, Kettle and Felcey’s perspective is closely
related to Ingold’s suggestion on how to conceive the world as a giant meshwork, I
see craft – with its collaborative potential – as a method to foster co-creation and
coexistence within our living environment.
The way I think about craft is that it offers diverse ways of thinking, knowing,
and imagining in a world bearing the irreversible impacts of environmental
degradation. Amidst the urgency to reflect and seek a sustainable survival
Ingold, Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, Art and Architecture, 21.
Helen Felcey, Amanda Ravetz, and Alice Kettle, Collaboration through Craft (London, England: Bloomsbury
Academic, 2017), 3.
33
34

39

approach, hands-on making allows us to be critically engaged with the world that is
suffering from material excess. The meditative and slow making process offers
space for individuals to reflect on the fast-paced, information-saturated
environment. As my material explorations emphasize, the act of making, learning,
and transforming is inherently collaborative, working with craft enables us to shift
our focus to the materials and transformation journey rather than the final object
that we conceive “as distinct from the process of their emergence and decay.”35
This approach allows us to reconsider the role of matter, and recognize its vital
participation in shaping realities in this world. By actively engaging in the making
processes, I am able to forge a series of connections through interacting with the
material (fibre materials, machines and tools) in my studio practice, opening my
perceptions to the surrounding world and responding to them accordingly. This
concept of correspondence36, as well as what anthropologist Hirokazu Miyazaki calls
the method of hope37, provides us an opportunity to shifts our experience with the
world away from rigid planning and scientific prediction. Rather, the concept allows
us to engage with the world in a participatory manner38, focus on real time and
inquire through interacting with it. In the subsequent chapters, I will explore how
the construction of this thesis project embodies a sense of self-realization and how
the tactile presence reinforces the sensory connection and experience between the
viewer and the work.

Heather Davis and Etienne Turpin, “Art and Death,” essay, in Art in the Anthropocene: Encounters Among
Aesthetics, Politics, Environments and Epistemologies (London, England: Open Humanities Press, 2015), 3-29.
Also seen in Anthea Black and Nicole Burisch, The New Politics of the Handmade: Craft, Art and Design (London,
England: Bloomsbury Visual Arts, 2022), 5.
36
Ingold, Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, Art and Architecture, 7
37
Hirokazu Miyazaki, The Method of Hope: Anthropology, Philosophy, and Fijian Knowledge (Stanford, CA:
Stanford University Press, 2004). Also seen in Ingold, Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, Art and Architecture, 7
38
According to Ingold, the concept of participatory engagement is central to understanding the
interconnectedness of human creativity, environment and materiality. He proposes that making is not just about
the imposition of form upon material but is a process of engagement and response, a way of knowing and being
in a world that is inherently participatory. Ingold, Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, Art and Architecture.
35

40

Nidification

41

Fig. 28. Xiaoyin Luo, Nidification (1st version), 2023. Cotton thread, linen thread, handmade reed
grass kami-ito. Photo courtesy of the artist.

42

My inquiry into craft within the material world is embodied through
Nidification (fig. 28), a woven sculpture that interprets the transformation of reed
grass into a tactile form. This body of work is part of the Thinking Paper:
Metamorphosing installation in the ECU State of Practice show, which evolves with
its install environment and showcases an assemblage of weaving samples created
from reed grass kami-ito. The word nidification is derived from the Latin – nidificare
– meaning to build a nest. This intent of building a place to land mirrors my
approach to constructing this sculpture, where I utilize the making process to craft a
sense of belonging and sanctuary in response to the material.

Fig. 29. Hei Yu, 草·书 | ⾦刚经 Verses by Rushes: Diamond Sutra, 2021, handmade rush paper fibre,
宁波阪急百货, 宁波, accessed November 12, 2023,
https://m.sohu.com/a/491810039_362042?_trans_=010004_pcwzy. Figure removed due to
copyright restrictions.

43

Fig. 30. Hei Yu, 草书 · ⾦刚经 Verses by Rushes: Diamond Sutra, 2021, details of handmade rush
paper fibre, accessed November 12, 2023, https://news.sohu.com/a/592249286_121123856. Figure
removed due to copyright restrictions.
.

Influenced by fibre artist Hei Yu’s39 perception of materials as entities

undergoing cycles of birth, death, and reincarnation, the artistic approach toward
my material explorations also considers the lifecycle of materials and my role as a
participator in this transformation process. In his work, 草·书 | ⾦刚经 (Verses by
Rushes: Diamond Sutra) (fig. 29 and 30), Hei uses the trimmed-off parts of rushes – a
leftover material he collected from a rush mat factory in Ningbo – to make paper for
sculptures and installation. Part of the significance of Hei’s work is burning
characters onto paper using lit incense as his artistic expression. Through labourintensive processes and the experience of the slow passing of time, Hei sees the act
of burning and leaving marks on the paper as a reflective practice to learn respect
and develop a sense of humility for the material.
My commitment to utilizing repurposed materials such as reed grass, black
cottonwood bark and indigo stalks in my practice resonates with Hei’s approach to
sustainable material practice. I position myself as part of the materials in the
transformation process, where I immerse in the process of papermaking, kami-ito
making and weaving; this experience transcends mere observations and becomes
an interaction. The essence of my creation lies in the interaction between materials,
39

Note: in Chinese culture, family name comes first, then followed by the given name.

44

guiding me through a transformative and humbling experience toward a sense of
humility with the environment. This approach animates the materials within my
artistic practice and establishes a sustainable connection with my surroundings. It
guides me to a respectful and appreciative stance towards the land I inhabit now.
While the artwork presented in the gallery serves as a testament to my engagement
with these materials, it also signifies the commencement of a new lifecycle for them.
As they intervene in the space, they become an ongoing dialogue between the
creator, the material, and the viewer.

45

Crafting Space

46

Fig. 31. Xiaoyin Luo, Nidification (2nd version) (detail), 2023. Cotton thread, linen thread, handmade
reed grass kami-ito. Photo courtesy of the artist.

47

Fig. 32. Xiaoyin Luo, Experiential Mapping (detail), 2023. Woven textiles with cotton thread,
handmade washi kami-ito, reed grass kami-ito, black cotton barks, hand-spun linen thread,
Japanese indigo paper strips. Photo courtesy of the artist.

48

In the essay “Fabrication and Encounter,” Paula Owen discusses how the
process of making and the interactions that objects facilitate contribute to the
content and meaning of art. She highlights the dynamic nature of objects as
connectors to thoughts, memories, sensations, histories, and relationships that offer
open-ended interpretations40. This perspective is insightful, and I attempt to vividly
embody it in my thesis projects. The tactile and nostalgic qualities of textiles in
Nidification (fig. 31) and Experiential Mapping (fig. 32) invite an open dialogue
between the viewer and the artwork. In both of these works, the installation’s spatial
arrangement holds space to allow viewers to engage intimately with the work from
all angles and establish a personal connection to the work based on their
interpretation.

Fig. 33. Mackenzie Frère, (im)material beauty, 2005, Anna Leonowens Gallery, Nova Scotia,
accessed

January

15,

2024,

https://mackenziekellyfrere.com/#/immaterial-beauty/.

removed due to copyright restrictions.

Paula Owen, “Fabrication and Encounter: When Content Is a Verb,” essay, in Extra/Ordinary: Craft and
Contemporary Art, ed. Maria Elena Buszek (London, England: Duke University Press, 2011), 83–96.
40

Figure

49

In my work, I delve into the sentimental
connections formed with the object through
both its tangible and intangible qualities.
These range from the tactile nature of the
fabric to the handmade, evident in its creation
and the material’s inherent familiarity with our
everyday lives, invoking a sense of comfort and
nostalgia. This familiarity is not just about the
physicality of the material but also the
Fig. 35. Draft of installation plan
for

the

State

of

Practice

Exhibition. Photo courtesy of the
artist.

memories and emotions it evokes. This blend
of qualities bridges the gap between the
artwork and the viewer, allowing the

experience to be personal, associative, and responsive, akin to a conversation41.
Textile artist Mackenzie Frere’s exploration of (im)material beauty (fig. 33) parallels
my approach, where he explores the aesthetic memory embedded in handwoven
cloths, highlighting how the intangible aspects of cloth shape our perception and
can transform our thinking processes42. My work extends this exploration beyond
the materiality of textiles, delving into the transformative potential these materials
hold. In Experiential Mapping, by incorporating diverse fibre materials such as raw
fibres, hand-spined threads, and paper strips into my weaving, I craft textures that
invite visual and tactile engagement, culminating in an aesthetic resonance when
displayed together in a gallery setting. The installation transforms the space,
imbuing it with softness, airiness, and expansiveness that invites viewers to shift
between observing and immersing themselves, thus enriching the sensory
experience.

Ibid., 86.
Mackenzie Frère, “immaterial Beauty,” essay, in Craft Perception and Practice Vol III, ed. Nisse Gustafson and
Amy Gogarty (Vancouver, BC: Ronsdale Press, 2007), 107–12.
41
42

50

The installation Thinking Paper: Metamorphosing (fig. 34) further exemplifies
this approach by utilizing weaving, sewing, crocheting, and moulding to explore the
materiality of paper, presenting a multifaceted view of the material exploration
process. To enhance engagement, I strategically laid out the exhibition space to
encourage viewers to navigate around the installations (fig. 35). By adjusting the
wall to form an obtuse angle at the entrance, I created a welcoming environment
that guides the viewer through the space, encouraging them to move around and
observe the work from various angles. This setup not only highlights the sculptures’
textural intricacies but also involves the viewer with a dynamic experience. To fully
appreciate the detail in each piece, viewers are invited to adopt different positions –
leaning close, stepping back, or adjusting their gaze – thus engaging with the art on
multiple levels. This approach not only showcases the versatility of paper as a
medium but also transforms the act of viewing into an active exploration of form
and texture.

Fig. 34. Xiaoyin Luo, Thinking Paper: Metamorphosing (overhead installation view), 2023.
Handmade paper objects with cotton, abaca, black cotton barks, Japanese indigo stalks, linen
thread, handmade reed grass kami-ito. Photo courtesy of the artist.

51

Fig. 36. Evelyn Roth, Environment for Reading Recycled from 110 Sweaters, 1974. Photograph
taken by Rachel Topham, 2018, Morris and Helen Belkin Art Gallery, Vancouver, accessed January
31, 2024, https://belkin.ubc.ca/exhibitions/beginning-with-the-seventies-glut/. Figure removed
due to copyright restrictions.

52

Environment for Reading Recycled from 110 Sweaters (fig. 36), a textile
installation by Canadian artist Evelyn Roth, transforms traditional gallery dynamics
by engaging viewers with the interconnectedness of materials. Roth’s sculptural
installation, which is made with repurposed sweaters, invites viewers to participate
and experience the installation, thus retrieving their sensitivity and challenging them
to reconsider the environmental impact of art practices within a capitalist
framework. By knitting a welcoming space, she promotes the use of eco-friendly
materials, aiming to deepen the relationship between art, sensitivity, and
environmental awareness43. In contrast with Roth, my thesis project crafts space that
invites curiosity, empathy, and reflection by emphasizing visual and sensory
connection through material familiarity. By creating exploratory woven objects and
engaging with the space, my work seeks to offer a sanctuary for viewers to confront
and process the unease of our time.

43

Evelyn Roth Arts 74 (John Davis, 2007), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hG1ZoHBylD4&t=1s.

53

Chapter Closure

54

Fig. 37. Xiaoyin Luo, Nidification, Kindred—MFA Thesis Exhibition, 2024. Woven sculpture
installation with cotton thread, linen thread, reed grass kami-ito, Japanese indigo stalk kami-ito.
Photo courtesy of the artist.

55

Working with slow-processed materials has been a journey into selfrealization. Through my studio practice and material research, I have gradually
established a way to resituate myself amidst today’s environmental and existential
crises. In my thesis exhibition, I have installed two bodies of work, Nidification and
Experiential Mapping. The work Nidification (fig. 37) is a woven sculpture that
evolved into an installation that grew into the gallery space. After the State of
Practice exhibition, as I continued to explore various materials for kami-ito making
and applied them to weaving, the nest building continued. This installation
assembly mimics the way birds weave their nests and spiders knit their webs in their
natural habitat. I began by gathering fibre materials, processing them, and then
weaving them into a nest. The process of making the nest is a way for me to create
space for engagement.
Being able to work closely with the materials at hand allows me to forge a
relationship with the other-than-human beings who share the same living
environment as me, and I honour them by offering my time and labour. The time I
spent with my materials offered me a chance for meditation, which opened up
space for me to rethink my relationship with the land and to process and engage
with my unresolved feelings about the loss of land due to the climate crisis. I see
working collaboratively with different natural materials in my practice as my way of
grieving, providing a portal for me to engage with other beings that also live on this
land and to consider how we can coexist during such troubled times.
The other work, Experiential Mapping (fig. 38), is a process-based textile
installation based on the material research I conducted in this MFA program. The
focus of this work is to showcase the interplay and collaborative results between the
artist and the materials. My approach to this installation is based on the idea of flux,
thinking about how to live in a world that is constantly shifting. The transformative
and collaborative moments in my material research on handmade paper suggested
a way to approach and adopt the unfixable state of the current environment.

56

Fig. 38. Xiaoyin Luo, Experiential Mapping, Kindred—MFA Thesis Exhibition, 2024. Woven textile
installation with cotton thread, handmade washi kami-ito, reed grass kami-ito, Japanese indigo
stalk kami-ito, black cottonwood bark, hand-spun linen thread and handmade paper strips. Photo
courtesy of the artist.

57

Through a series of actions and decision-making with natural fibre materials and the
kami-ito made out from them. This installation embodies a variation in texture, the
application of weaving techniques and the trace of my body movement.
During the process of making each individual weaving, I altered the
technique and patterns based on the type of fibre materials and the size of the loom
I worked with. This evolving process of making shaped my perspective on the
uncertainties of the unknown; the flexible mode of thinking and making suggests
there is always an opportunity for change based on what I currently have. The raw
and unfinished details in the work are where I left hints suggesting this is an
ongoing process. The unfixable gesture of the work is my attempt to shift the
audience’s experience of looking at an art object with distance into a curiosity
engagement. Through this textile installation, I aim to offer the audience an insight
into my methodology for relationship-building that highlights the trace of time,
labour and the correspondence between me and the fibres.
Through material exploration with papermaking, kami-ito making and
weaving in relation to the craft theory of collaboration, this research not only serves
as a medium for artistic expression but also as a critical inquiry into the
interconnectedness of human and non-human existence within the context of
environmental decline. As my exploratory journey unfolds, it becomes clear that the
act of crafting is not just a method for artistic production; it is also a transformative
process that invites us to reimagine our relationship with the world. Through this
thesis research, I navigated the complexities of material exploration as a way to
confront and engage with the unease in our lives, proposing craft as a vital and
enriching methodology for inquiry and understanding in times of existential crises.
During the thesis exhibition installation, I invited my mom to participate in
the building process. Her openness to engage with my art practice and her curiosity
to learn the craft I was doing inspired me to seek the potential for future community
engagement. The therapeutic property of crafting emerges from the time I spent

58

with the material, with my mom at home, teaching her how to spin threads and
crochet. That very moment we spent quietly together, focusing on what we have in
our hands, holds space for conversations about the existential unease we feel.
As this exhibition support paper marks the end of a research chapter, I am
excited to continue my material-oriented research on craft, utilizing the idea of
crafting as a way to approach and address the challenges we face in the current
world. Craft will continue to be a vital navigation tool for me to engage with the
land reciprocally. The time we spend with materials in the crafting process not only
holds space for us to honour and grieve for loss, but it also provides a leeway for us
to find solace within ourselves and the environment that we are in. This potential for
healing offers an alternative view to dabbling with the existential crisis, encouraging
us to engage with these matters positively and be open to the diversity of
solutions.
As we live in a time of trouble, crafting antidotes is an intention that
comprises my research and will be ongoing. Moving forward, I am curious to delve
into the potential roles traditional craft practices can play in the discourse of
sustainability. By questioning how these practices can be utilized to engage public
interest and action toward environmental conservation, I anticipate expanding my
artistic research on craft as a stepping stone for the conversation of excessive
material consumption in today’s industrialized society. As a creative individual, I am
keen to continue my material-based craft practice as a way to engage with troubles,
to live with troubles and to reconcile with troubles. This research chapter opens up
an opportunity to (re)imagine a collective engagement with our present and near
futures with the land appreciatively and collaboratively.

59

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