Woven Time: Threads Between Print and Fabric

I recently came across two photo silkscreen prints I made in the early 1990s. They were part of a series exploring headless portraits—a body of work that eventually became an exhibition. The premise of the series was that we can often recognize people not only by their faces, but through their posture and body language. These woven silkscreen prints and fibre art connected after many years.

I completed eight photo silkscreen portraits, each printed in a limited edition of 25, along with four pencil drawings based on the same theme.

Woven silkscreen prints process

As I looked at two of the prints side by side, I began to imagine them speaking to one another. Rather than keeping them separate, I decided to merge them—cutting each into strips of varying widths, then weaving them together into a new composition. What emerged wasn’t just a visual piece, but a tactile record of process, memory, and rhythm.

These woven silkscreen prints and fibre art were a part of something deeply satisfying – transforming something old into something whole. The act of weaving brought me fully into the present, while also reconnecting me with earlier moments in my practice. It reminded me that nothing is ever truly finished—it’s just waiting for the right moment to take on new form.

At the same time, I was thinking about several of my fibreart pieces, created with naturally dyed and upcycled fabrics. Some of these works—especially those made with pleating techniques—also rely on repetition and movement. Though created decades apart in different media, they shared a similar rhythm and structure.

And that’s where the connection became clear. Whether I’m pleating fabric or reworking silkscreen prints, I’m drawn to processes that build through texture, layering, and quiet transformation. The materials may change, but the approach remains constant: a dialogue between the hands, the surface, and time.

Looking back, I see how my work has always carried a thread of reconstruction—returning to earlier pieces, letting them shift and evolve, and giving them space to speak again in new ways.

https://maijazemitis.com/repurposing-vintage-naturally-dyed-napkins/

This woven paper piece may have started as an experiment, but it has become a quiet companion to my fibreart—a kind of visual echo. I’m beginning to explore more ways these threads connect. Maybe they always have.