My name is Emma. I grew up in France where I got a master in fine arts. I moved to the US nine years ago with my husband. I guess we fell in love with New England. We had our two little ones here and never really thought about moving back.
My first experience in dyeing occurred when I was hand-making articulated Teddy Bears a few years ago. I realize now how much I liked dyeing mohair fabric and attempt to give them the colors I wanted, even if my tools were rudimentary.
My work with fine arts always gravitated around photography. Between artistic creations or restoration of ancient photographs, family pictures have always been a central part of my life.
My first yarn dye was supposed to be a one-time gift to a friend. But there was something in the colors I was seeing in my pot. They felt like I knew them from somewhere. I browsed my pictures straight to my trip to Yellowstone.
That was it. I would dye memories. I would dye souvenir pictures. I would dye them, have them knitted and worn. And I would spend a slice of my life doing that.
When I started photography, images were only revealed in their bath. There were a mystery, a waiting, a hope, that all disappeared with digital photography.
Dyeing allows me to rediscover this organic process, these successive trials over time.
The image becomes again the medium of the dream and the waiting. We plunge the thread in the colored liquid. The color spreads. The photo is not virtual anymore. It becomes palpable, embodied. The thread becomes a link between the material reality, and this oniric universe where our memories live.