Bio

Juliet Martin has a BA in Visual Arts from Brown University, a MFA in Computer Art from the School of Visual Arts, and is a member of the Saori Leadership Committee based in Japan.

Her career as an artist began with creating web-based art pieces recognized around the world, including by SIGGRAPH and The New York Times. Challenging how people saw websites, she added irony to the medium.

But her fingers on the keyboard grew weary; she needed touch. Ironically, it was through online searching that she found textiles. She discovered a weaving studio whose Japanese philosophy is “there are no mistakes.” Eventually she asked herself, If there are no rules, no mistakes, is awareness the only indicator?
As in her digital practice, she challenges the function of the medium. Her process focuses on aesthetics instead of rules. She cuts up and put back together her weavings. She takes something precious and recontextualizes it.

For years she had asked, “Can you see me through the computer?”, using interactivity to show how she felt internally. Now, she asks the viewer to see her through the loom.

For the past 9 years she has been a part of the fiber community, having solo shows including at Ivy Brown Gallery, New York City; Chashama, New York City; Living Room, St. Peter’s Church, New York City; Sumei Center, Newark, NJ; Creative Arts Workshop, New Haven, CT; Garrison Art Center, Garrison, NY; Artworks Gallery, Trenton, NJ; and Saori Kaikan Gallery, Osaka, Japan.

Statement

Household Items Remind Me of You

When I was 16, keeping distant meant one foot on the floor. That gaze, that kiss. Now I’m alone. My bedroom set is my new best friend. I sit on the bed with one foot on the floor. In a mask. My gaze is on a picture of you.

I look at my coffee table and think about touching your face. We last sat on the sofa just 6 inches apart. That was the rule.

I see furniture instead of people. My relationships are with my dining set. And fruit bowl. I look in my studio and stare at my desk. It looks me in the eyes.

I draw portraits of my apartment. The still life is the only life I have right now. I make end tables out of burlap, wallpaper out of scraps. I weave backgrounds because that is something I can touch.

I combine my handwoven fabric with store-bought samples to not forget what each has to offer. I use machine-made fabric because an assembly line is a luxury. When did I know touching your hand would be a hazard?

I’m dealing with the concept of loss, not loss itself....