Maggie Hensel-Brown: When Meme Culture and 16th Century Needlework Collide
This millenial's modern take on a disappearing craft will redefine how you think of lace
“Self Portrait at 28” and “A Very Short Time Later: Actually Not Doing So Great” by Maggie Hensel-Brown
During lockdown we all went down our own rabbit holes; I started two new obsessions: reclaiming plastic waste, and narrative quilting. The two unexpectedly collided in a piece I submitted as part of the Covid-19 Quilt Project – a sort of digital quilt within the grid of an Instagram account. The full patchwork is filled with quilt squares, little, autobiographical pieces of needlework submitted by artists scattered around the world, joined by their common experiences of lockdown.
Maggie Hensel-Brown's submission for @covid19quilt
One piece in particular, by Maggie Hensel-Brown, caught my eye. The square of lace depicts a scene that could have been plucked straight out of my own life: a girl lying in a messy bed, aimlessly scrolling on her phone; something I, and many others, can easily identify with.
The lace is entirely made by hand, an art so close to the brink of extinction that I would have been hard pressed to even imagine what a modern version could look like.
Smugglers got creative when the import of lace was banned.
San Francisco Call, Volume 99, Number 136, 15 April 1906
Back in the 16th and 17th centuries, when all lace was produced by hand, it was the ultimate fashion statement. The countless hours of work required made it a luxury reserved for the elite and powerful. Lace making became a huge part of the economy; the amount of money spent on needlepoint in the 1500s was so extravagant that many countries banned its import through measures such as regulating the maximum width of decorative cuffs. All of this, naturally, resulted in a prolific black market of smuggled lace; leading to colorful accounts of dogs being wrapped in lace disguised under fur hides. Other vessels included hollowed loaves of bread and even coffins filled with lace instead of corpses.
This extreme popularity started to decline around the French Revolution, when flaunting wealth and social status became a whole lot less desirable; lace was hidden away or given to servants. By the 1900s, with the invention of the first industrial lace machines, handmade lace had almost completely disappeared.
In Hensel-Brown’s work, the juxtaposition of messy scenes with underwear strewn about, and the painstakingly precise medium, is striking. The isolation of quarantine is truly palpable, both in the choice of image and the hours pledged to its realization.
So, for me another rabbit hole opens up; this time in narrative lacework via the portal of Maggie Hensel-Brown, a 30 year old lace maker from New Castle, Australia.
Hensel-Brown grew up in a family of creatives with a puppeteer father, an artist mother and five brothers, all of whom wound up in various creative fields as well.
“I’ve always been kind of obsessive, wanting to make my work smaller and more intricate; I’ve never had something that satisfied all of those prerequisites.”
“I was obsessively crafty, anything with string like knitting and crochet came very naturally- kind of second nature – while the boys had gun fights around me.”
After obtaining a BA in Fine Arts, she had the opportunity to open a gallery through a program dubbed “Renew New Castle” which had for mission to revitalize the main street of her formerly booming industrial town. “At the time I was working with crochet and also invited artists to come in and do their thing; we had installations and a shop area.” Later, the same organization made a grant scheme available for members of the program to attend classes as well.
“The conferences were so specific, kind of punk and underground with all these people studying outside of the system. ”
“I saw that the general meeting of Australia’s Lace Making Guild was happening right during the period of time when I could go, and the grant would cover the fees”.
Hensel-Brown had never considered exploring lace making before but after a four-day workshop in Reticella, an Italian lace technique, she was hooked.
“It blew my mind, you had to count painstakingly the individual threads and I just loved it so much, I couldn’t believe it. I’ve always been kind of obsessive, wanting to make my work smaller and more intricate; I’ve never had something that satisfied all of those prerequisites. The conferences were so specific, kind of punk and underground with all these people studying outside of the system. After that I just thought I have to do this forever now – it’s the biggest moment of clarity I’ve ever had.”
After the course she closed her gallery to study lacemaking – first in England, then later at the Brooklyn Lace Guild, but the origins of her autobiographical needlework came about in a situation quite similar to our current lockdown era.
“Nothing grand or biblical happens in my life, I’m just a messy 29 year old, so including things like my laptop or crossword puzzles feels more truthful.”
"Staring into the Void: Not Hungry, Just Bored” by Maggie Hensel-Brown
“I was staying with family in Seattle and going kind of insane. I was angry and throwing rocks into the water, just tired of everything.” She made a sketch of the scene and isolated in her grandfather’s studio to embroider a lace rendering for 3 days straight. The frustrations of being stuck at home, even with people we love dearly, certainly feels familiar in our current post-Covid times.
In researching historical narrative lace, Hensel-Brown noticed a pattern of grandeur and biblical tales. “but the people who were commissioning the work weren’t the ones painstakingly sewing”, she points out. In focusing on relatable, even mundane scenes of everyday life, such as blankly staring into the fridge, the artist creates work that speaks to us; reminiscent of meme culture, albeit lacey memes.
Hensel-Brown’s most recent piece, created during lockdown, depicts a pile of clothing lying on the floor “It just felt so ‘of the moment’ – the apathy of not being able to work up the energy to pick my clothes up off the floor”, she explained.
“Nothing grand or biblical happens in my life, I’m just a messy 29 year old, so including things like my laptop or crossword puzzles feels more truthful”.
“You can tell it's a lockdown outfit because there's no pants”
Maggie's instagram highlights are filled with mesmerizing videos of her creative process. She usually spends a day building up and tweaking her compositions, followed by 3 to 4 months of needlework. “I always have an intense excitement and anticipation at the beginning of a project.”
Lacemaking is a lengthy process though, it generally takes the artist an hour per square centimeter to complete. "It’s a massive commitment – it’s months. You want to kickstart it with a bit of joy. "
Hensel-Brown exhibits her work on loan to museums but when asked if she sells them, she laughs “I get lots of requests, but I hold onto them like a Gollum hoarder. That’s the joy of having a day job, not having to sell them. I don’t want to crush my inspiration by forcing it to pay my rent.”
In February, Maggie Hensel-Brown will be speaking at the Festival of Lace in Sydney at Gallery 76, as part of a conference hosted by the Australian Lace Maker’s Guild. The community isn’t huge though, “Working in such a small niche can feel like a bit of a vacuum, so when other islands pop up of people doing similar things, it’s really exciting”.
“I'm just a messy 29 year old, so including things like my laptop or crossword puzzles feels more truthful”.
Later this June, she is also participating in the first digital iteration of the annual “Doily-Free Zone” conference, where she’ll be hosting a talk about Historical and Contemporary Narrative Lace Work.
If like me, you are now itching to try your hand at the craft, you’ll be excited to hear that the conference also includes a two-day workshop titled Needle Lace Narratives, taught by Maggie Hensel-Brown, on the use of iconography for storytelling through needle lace.
I'd love to meet any local lacemakers here in Dubai! If that's you, please drop me a line or pop in to any of our Community Embroidery Club or Craft Jam meetups.
This millenial's modern take on a disappearing craft will redefine how you think of lace