weaving

Matilda Dominique

Could you share a bit about yourself and your background?

I grew up in a small town in Sweden, where my love for creating began early. I was always sewing, upcycling second-hand clothes, and experimenting with making things. Crafting is deeply rooted in my family; my grandmother was a weaver, and my mother taught me to knit, so these traditions have been part of my life for as long as I can remember. When I was younger, I didn’t initially see crafting as a potential career. But over time, I discovered craft schools and realised I could pursue this path professionally. My formal education has been centred on textiles, but my curiosity has led me to explore other mediums as well, including recent courses in public art and bronze casting. I enjoy continuously expanding my skills, and while weaving remains a central part of my work, I find it exciting to try new techniques and materials.

I started my bachelor’s degree in Australia, where I lived for two years before returning to Sweden to complete my studies and later pursue a master's degree. My time in Australia was a period of significant growth, not only academically but also personally. Living there allowed me to immerse myself in new cultural perspectives and approaches to art, which have had a lasting impact on my creative practice. I’ve also spent time living and working in Germany, and I believe that all these experiences across different countries have shaped how I approach my work today.

In addition to my studio practice, reading and writing are essential to my artistic journey. They help me reflect on my craft and engage with broader ideas. I also teach weaving, which allows me to pass on the traditions and techniques that have been so important in my life. All of these elements come together to form a rich and evolving background, deeply connected to both my heritage and my desire to keep learning and exploring.

You beautifully mentioned on your website, "My own personal memories of texture are most strongly connected to my grandmother. Her interest in weaving is the very reason I began to weave myself." Can you share more about those moments and how they influenced your decision to express your creativity through weaving?

My grandmother was a hobby weaver, and her home was filled with beautiful textiles she created. Every visit revealed a new warp on her loom. As a child, I didn’t fully grasp the significance of what I was surrounded by; she never formally taught me to weave. However, she always gifted us handmade items like towels, throws, and cushions, leaving a lasting impression on me.

Her work surrounded me, showcasing the possibilities of weaving, and subtly influenced my creativity. It was important to witness the art of weaving firsthand, even if I didn’t understand it fully at the time. Today, I cherish that connection and appreciate how those early experiences shaped my artistic path.

Part of your practice involves creating installations and collective performances. Can you tell us more about your most recent one, "Collective (Weave)Choreography Gothenburg?

"Collective (Weave) Choreography Gothenburg" began as an idea a few years ago when I took a course on public art. The focus was on creating site-specific works and engaging the public. I envisioned taking my practice beyond the confines of my studio and exploring outdoor spaces through backstrap weaving, a method that allows me to work flexibly with tools and materials. After the course, I organised various workshops culminating in this project. Initially, I planned to set up a temporary installation in a random park, but I was invited to collaborate with an artist-run space in Gothenburg called Konstepidemin. To realise my vision, I needed to involve others, as weaving is often a solitary practice for me.

I reached out on Instagram for volunteers and was pleasantly surprised by the response. I emphasised that no prior weaving experience was necessary since backstrap weaving can be quite accessible. We gathered about 20 participants, and I facilitated a workshop where we focused more on the collaborative installation than the final product itself. During the performance, participants were connected through warps that required them to respond to each other's movements, creating a unique synergy. We wove together in silence for about 40 minutes while passersby observed, resembling a meditative experience.

At the end of the performance, I cut the threads, symbolically releasing the weavers from their connections. This process felt like a ritual, and it allowed for unexpected moments to unfold. I’m still processing the experience and figuring out how to further explore this collective work. It fostered a beautiful connection with the volunteers, reminding me of the generosity that can arise from creative collaboration.

Can you take us through your process? Do you have any particular rituals that help you dive into it with greater ease and foster a more natural flow?

My creative process can feel quite messy, with a lot of back-and-forth movement. When starting something new, I often jot down my thoughts and reflections to help clarify my ideas. Sometimes, it can be challenging to get into the flow because I feel a bit anxious about where to begin. The only remedy for that is to keep working through it—simply starting somewhere can unlock my creativity.

Once I have a clearer idea, I dive into a more intense production phase, often juggling multiple projects at once, like dyeing fabrics or weaving concurrently. This back-and-forth movement energises me and helps maintain focus. However, if something isn’t working, I have to step back and reassess.

I tend to be an optimistic planner, often setting lofty goals that can lead to stress. If I find I don’t have enough time to realise an idea, I learn to adjust my expectations. Overall, my process is a blend of intensity, reflection, and the occasional chaos inherent in weaving and the artistic practice. Each piece involves numerous steps, and while I might start with a specific vision, the act of weaving often leads me to unexpected discoveries along the way.

We know that you're involved in teaching. Could you share more about your teaching approach and experience?

I’ve been teaching since 2015, and it’s a vital part of my practice. Teaching not only provides me with the means to create my art, but it also energises me. I enjoy working with students who are eager to explore their paths and learn about weaving and textiles. I teach at a one-year art school where most students aim to apply to university programs. The focus isn’t solely on mastering traditional craft techniques; instead, I encourage experimental approaches. I want them to see that weaving isn’t bound by rigid rules or conventions.

There’s a cultural perception in Scandinavia, stemming from strict early 20th-century weaving schools, that weaving must be precise and perfect. I strive to shift that mindset, empowering my students to experiment with materials and processes freely. I want them to enjoy the journey, recognizing that frustration is part of learning. Ultimately, my goal is to help them find joy in their creative exploration.

When it comes to the tactile aspect of your work and its connection with your body, how does the hands-on nature impact your overall happiness and well-being?

It's not always smooth when I work; things can go wrong, and threads can break, but it's all part of the process. For example, I recently started weaving a piece for my home—one of the first times I’m creating something personal. This project is refreshing because it requires less cognitive strain; I can simply focus on the rhythm of weaving. During moments of uncertainty, like when I’m unsure about my next project or dealing with challenging applications, weaving offers clarity and calm. The hands-on nature of my work is essential; it’s hard to imagine not engaging physically with my art. Crafting with my hands is not just beneficial for my mental health but also fosters a deeper connection to the creative process.

I appreciate the balance between conceptual development and hands-on execution. This interplay is vital to maintaining the creative energy we all need.

I’m currently in the production phase, which I find invigorating. Writing, thinking, and weaving all help me shape my ideas. I have an exhibition scheduled for March, and I’m eager to see how everything unfolds as I continue to create. I’m also working on a book that I hope will be released sometime this year.

What upcoming projects are you excited about right now?

Where and how can people engage more with your work?

I have a few pieces displayed in two different hospitals in Stockholm. I hope that people don't have to visit them under unfortunate circumstances, but it's a start! I’m also part of two group exhibitions, both in Stockholm, one at Konstnärshuset together with 199 other artists! The other is in a restaurant, also curated by the team who runs Konstnärshuset.
You can find Matilda at matildadominique.com @matilda_dominique

Image [ 1, 3 ] Light Brown of Acorn, Grey, Blue and Black, detail, 2023. Photographer Elin Sylwan Image [ 2 ] studio image of artist. Photographer Elin Sylwan Image [ 6 ] The Structure Library (Strukturbiblioteket), 2017. Photographer Elin Sylwan Image [ 7, 8, 4] I Want the Weave to Become a Room, installation, 2023. Photographer Elin Sylwan Image [ 9, 10 ] Collective (Weave)Choreography Gothenburg, performance, 2024. Photographer Hendrik Zeitler