IV

March 3, 2026.

I had the pleasure of an unexpected pocket of time yesterday. I spent over an hour waiting for the arrival of a beautiful friend; this space, albeit longer than anticipated, was intentional on my end, as I wanted to give myself an opportunity for creativity.

I climbed the fence and began trudging through the ample snow when I came upon an absolutely stunning tree. She was so compelling; I knew immediately that this was to be the site for my next piece. After adorning an old, Holly Hobby dress from my mother’s basement; it occurred to me that it would be excessively romantic to tie the braids unto my body in thick layers until such time as they arrived. Upon using up a full palette of braids, I then began to pull out the additional torn up cloth in order to bind my legs and feet into rugged footwear. I cut off one shoulder of the Holly Hobby gown and stuffed her ample skirt up near the top of my thighs. It is amazing to me how sensual a single element of skin can be when surrounded by thick layers of cloth. The ambient sun began to pull on my eyelids, as a chilly frost bit into the air and my feet turned red beneath a canvas of snow.

I was meant to sit still beneath that tree. This process, this performance, this work was timely and necessary.

When I was eleven years of age, a man came into my bedroom and raped me with his fingers all over my pink Holly Hobby sheets. Being drawn to this particular dress and adorning it here in this wilderness was no accident. I did not even link the Holly Hobby style of this gown to my bedsheets on that day; I only knew that it was necessary. Despite the hiked up fabric and the inherent violence of cutting off its shoulder and layering it in thick plaits, the process was peaceful and the gown beautiful in its own way. My experience as a child was in a sense redeemed through this experience and a soft space of sensuality, rather than sexuality was created. Weaving and tying the fabric, only to free my body from its grip was moving, palpable, intimate … joyful even. I did not feel lost, but comforted within the blanket of knots that cocooned my frame against the natural elements.

These plaits, these knots, the act of tying them tightly, only to unwind and release them was a small means of controlling what was utterly beyond my control. I finished tying my gown, as my feet were beginning to freeze and proceeded to prop up my camera using a stone, my jacket and some cloth. I placed my hand over its heart and took a bow.

This photograph is a memento of a beautiful experience, not only in weaving within the natural landscape, but in the gentle untying of said elements with a dear friend. My heart is full and grateful.

Jennifer

Les Tresses - Series Excerpt. 2026