Textile artist Hanne Friis on exploring the body and the natural world
Ahead of the Oslo Open art festival, we revisit this interview from Crafts with one of the artists opening up her studio to the public as part of the event
Gorge I, 2020, natural dyed viscose, hand stitched, by Hanne Friis
'We are part of nature, but of course we are much more than nature,’ says Hanne Friis (Crafts issue 288). ‘Our bodies are connected to everything that surrounds us and we are also constantly changing.’ The Oslo-based artist’s intricately sewn sculptures are an exploration of these synergies between bodies and the natural world, and how both contain notions of metamorphosis and mortality.
Her organic forms – created by pleating, folding and stitching fabric to create tense, compacted shapes – simultaneously reference geology and topography, as well as raw human biology, and have an emotive impact on the viewer. One of her commissions, for example – for an ocean research vessel – references coral reefs but also our own bodily connection to the planet. In a solo exhibition at the Vigeland Museum in Oslo, opening in October this year, she hopes to show work influenced by the coronavirus pandemic and how it has impacted our relationship with the material world.
Detail of Phases, 2017, by Hanne Friis, natural dyed silk velvet, hand stitched
Her technique of building fold by fold evokes a sense of constant change and of perseverance. ‘My sculptures have the potential to grow,’ says Friis, ‘and because I have to use a lot of strength to make them, the power of creation is also part of it.’
Her choice of colours (often created using natural dyes) is also connected to the body. ‘I often use tones that resemble flesh or skin, but you also occasionally see spots of other colours – small mistakes in the dyeing process – which suggest that something is not quite right, perhaps hinting at fear or a disease.’
Despite these unsettling themes, Friis’ work is undeniably beautiful – although she says this wasn’t always a given. ‘My earlier pieces were more directly connected to the body – maybe even a little bit repulsive,’ she says. ‘Beauty is a way to communicate, because if something is too disgusting, then people can’t really take it in. But I don’t want them to be just beautiful – there must be some tension, some resistance.’
Over time, the character of her work has also shifted. ‘They used to be more vulnerable, but now I increasingly see vitality and strength in them – there is so much power in all living things.’
This article was first published in Crafts issue 288: The Mind & Body issue