Alan Vega was a musician. But he was also a fibre artist. At least thats how I feel about him. His drawings on paper remind me of balls of string that have fallen out of his grandmas knitting bag. Another landscape of possibilities. In an unexpected place.
I see untamed fibres, an undomesticated mess. I want to reach into the flat surfaces and start weaving, constructing, creating a rhythm. Not because I want to impose order, but because I want to engage in the music that seems to be vibrating in each string on the page.
A little bit like this
He passed into that celetial orchestra a year ago today sometime, depends on which calender on which continent you are most sensitive. I suspect he is now with all the others who have decided to go make some noise elsewhere.
So RIP won’t cut it.