This project began riverside observing nets collected in haphazard piles. Small fish were strangled in the enormous heaps, rotting in the sun as there is little point in culling every tiny bycatch. Oceans are full of monstrous nets, their tiny nooses sliding effortlessly around the gills of swimming things. Nets terrify me.

Counterintuitively, I’ve created swaths that resemble Fisherman’s nets rendered in neon Mason’s twine.  Instead of capturing everything inside, my structure is crocheted around a central spine enabling everything to fall out. 

I often work in public, so I’m frequently asked what I’m making. I answer initially that I’m making art.  This begs follow-up -  “yes, but what is it?” to which I reply: “Well, it isn’t a net.” I’m often asked if I’m knitting, which I’m not, and if it is knotted, which it isn’t.  The pieces are crocheted; they unravel from a single point. The object looks net-like enough that people confidently assert that things could get caught in it.  This assumption interests me.  Perhaps future humans will lose all understanding of the nuance of nets when we have collectively forgotten how to catch fish. That moment hasn’t happened.  Not yet.  Therefore the working title of the piece is the Not-net-not-knit-not-knot-not-yet.