I wanted the weight of inherited textile correspondence — the specific tragedy of wearing a message without comprehension until the moment you suddenly, terribly do. The silk-weighing house gives us a space built for measuring the value of cloth, now transformed into a cathedral of undelivered words. The Komi-Friulian fusion places her at the collision point of Arctic and Alpine textile traditions, both cultures where cloth carried survival instructions. The aubergine velvet is the color of something once living, now preserved. —Sable