LINDA FRIEDMAN SCHMIDT

Linda Friedman Schmidt in front of the wall of discarded clothing in her studio - photo by Kelsey Bennett

Linda Friedman Schmidt is a German-born American artist known for her emotional narrative portraits created from discarded clothing. She was born stateless in a displaced persons camp, the first child of Holocaust survivors who discouraged her interest in art.

Her artwork depicts a reality informed by social, political, and feminist issues as well as a traumatic family history. Through a process of unmaking and remaking, she explores the potential of art to mend, transform, and heal the self and society. Her earlier artworks continue to endure today as they address inequality, violence against women, and the general sense of unease and vulnerability that has been heightened by the pandemic. Her artwork has been exhibited extensively in the USA in group shows at venues such as the American Folk Art Museum, Allentown Art Museum, Montclair Art Museum, Morris Museum, and many others.

Linda currently has four pieces on display at New York City’s Untitled Space group show “UNRAVELED: Confronting the Fabric of Fiber Art,” now on display through May 28, 2021.

Interview by Millicent Borges Accardi

Can you describe your artwork that is currently a part of “Unraveled: Confronting the Fabric of Fiber Art” group show at New York’s Untitled Space? How did you decide what to submit?

“Unraveled: Confronting the Fabric of Fiber Art” at New York’s Untitled Space gallery is an invitational group exhibition. I was invited to exhibit four art works selected by the curator Indira Cesarine. I agreed that these were good choices for the following reasons: exhibiting art depicting black bodies and stories is especially important in the context of the Black Lives Matter movement. Featuring [my works] “Salsa Cures Sadness” and “Dance of Hope and Despair,” two large works side-by-side characterizing black people as regal, beautiful, and human, not only commands attention, but also sends the message that diversity, inclusion, and representation of black people in art matters.

These narrative artworks create understanding, encourage the viewer to feel a sense of compassion, and respect for the subjects. “Salsa Cures Sadness” and “Dance of Hope and Despair” also address the general sense of unease and vulnerability, the mixed feelings of desolation and hope we are feeling during the pandemic. These days, life is a dance and a struggle for many. Since fiber art is most often created by and associated with women, UNRAVELED gives visibility to feminist issues. [My works] “Beneath the Surface” and “Seeing Double” examine societal pressure on women and female empowerment.

Descriptions of my artwork in “UNRAVELED: Confronting the Fabric of Fiber Art”:

“Salsa Cures Sadness” — I am an artist with empathy and compassion for diverse urban people. I grew up with them in the poor Brownsville section of Brooklyn, New York. My 1950s neighbors and classmates were African-Americans, Latinos, and other immigrants. I find meaning and beauty in the struggles and joys of marginalized, diverse urban people. Their struggles are similar to my own. When I was nearly fifty years old, and long gone from the old neighborhood, I found acceptance and joy on the Latin ballroom dance floor. I learned to dance full out with dance partners of all races and nationalities. Salsa “on 2” dancing awakened a part of me that had been slumbering for years — that sense of physical happiness, the exuberance of using the body to have fun. Dancing with diverse partners connects me with the wider world, gives me new life, gives me energy, helps me fly, helps me dance myself free of the sadness, helps me to be me. This autobiographical work was inspired by my fellow salsa dancers and the other African American and Latino friends who have passed through my life.

"Salsa Cures Sadness," 2002 - Mixed Media Fiber Art: Discarded clothing, 60in x 42in

“Dance of Hope and Despair” — This artwork depicts the underground cultural life of city Latinos and African-Americans. The Latin ballroom dance scene is where partners of every hue and culture intermix, dance with each other, and change partners every time the music changes. Switching partners with every new song causes chance encounters with different people one would otherwise hesitate to meet. This work examines the dance of life. It explores relationships, gender roles, alienation, loneliness, disillusionment, and the longing for love. At the time of creation I had been dancing salsa “on 2” for four years, still an outsider, a sensitive observer of the Afro-Latin salsa dance community.

I was still learning how to handle the constant fast turning and spinning of the women by the men. On the dance floor we learn about people, partnership, and relationships. I bring my personal perspective on relationships to this work. Alienation and disillusionment seem to accompany the diverse partners on the crowded dance floor. Partnering has gone wrong with all of the females looking away from their male partners. The female in the center looks stronger than her partner and uncomfortable with him.

I have had partners who are selfish, showoffs, competitive, inconsiderate, dangerous, with poor timing and ignorant of basic skills. As a child I witnessed partnership gone wrong at home. What is the woman’s role in the dance? Is she supposed to jump in and do for the man what he is unable to do? Should she anticipate each move, tell him what steps they are supposed to take, which way to face, how to position the hands? Should she lead? Who shall the leader be in the dance of life? Aren’t men supposed to lead on the dance floor? I don’t want to follow a poor leader. I don’t want to follow a leader I cannot trust, one who may hurt me in the dance. In the current phase of my life I have surrendered to being guided by a higher power. I hope that in time, and with practice, my inner guide becomes the only one I need to follow.

"Dance of Hope and Despair," 2002 - Mixed Media Fiber Art: Discarded clothing, 60in x 40in

“Beneath the Surface” — [This] is a work about identity, authenticity, cultural ideals of feminine beauty, and the pressure on women to look young and beautiful forever. It is created from clothing, the second skin, the superficial skin that you wear in public. Ripped discarded clothing alludes to the discarded self, the artist torn between superficiality and authenticity. I explore the fractured self, the shadow side, the split between the false self and the true self.

Clothing used to conceal reveals what lies hidden beneath the surface: truth, vulnerability, individuality, and the authentic imperfect self, an aging woman. Some viewers believe that “Beneath the Surface” is concerned with mourning. They think that the shadow of the deceased is portrayed beside the subject. I never ask if they think it is mourning for the self destroyed by plastic surgery.

"Beneath the Surface," 2008 - Mixed Media: Discarded clothing, 18in x 18in

“Seeing Double” — Feminism and Freudian theory intersect in “Seeing Double,” an angry artistic response to sexual abuse and violence against women. Depicted is a nude femme fatale who wants vengeance. The woman as object is transformed into a woman empowered; her body becomes a weapon.

There are many ideas, references, and layers of meaning to ponder in this artwork. It addresses perception, duality, the myth of the "vagina dentata," the victim-aggressor archetype, the vulnerability of cloth and people, female identity, and Pablo Neruda's "Ode to a Pair of Scissors.” Scissors are a prime tool in my process. They empower me to make the art and cut myself loose from an abusive past. Scissors can be both a tool and a weapon, constructive or destructive. “Seeing Double” confronts the viewer with multiple discordant juxtapositions: Clothing that conceals and prevents arousal portrays a naked woman; an object of male pleasure is transformed into an object of male fear; the subject is both a man attractor and man repeller; clothing that offers protection delivers a message about harm; the female artist sees through a male’s eyes. Just as the male gaze undresses the woman, the work of the viewer is to uncover the message, to discover and decipher what the “body” of the artwork is about.

“Seeing Double,” 2002 - Mixed Media Fiber Art: Discarded clothing, 29in x 13in

As the first child of Holocaust survivors, would you agree with the statement that one of the purposes of your art is to educate and keep alive the memory of the Holocaust, so history won’t repeat itself?

I am not interested in becoming a Holocaust educator per se. I think it is important to keep the memory of the Holocaust alive, but [I] don’t believe that this will prevent history from repeating itself. The main purposes of my art are to reveal the aftermath of the Holocaust, to reveal the impact of war and hatred, to reveal the psychological wounds that are passed on, to raise awareness of the suffering, and to heal my own trauma. My work is an outcry for peace, love, unity, freedom, and respect for all of humanity, and all of life. I don’t want my own past to become anyone else’s future.

The trauma of the Holocaust has been reawakened by the pandemic. Nowadays I am interested in exposing the parallels between the Holocaust and what is happening in the world today. We need to wake up to the fact that hatred and division are being encouraged, that people are being demonized. Hatred stems from fear, fear of others. We need to begin to see how we are alike, recognize each other’s pain while understanding our shared humanity. We need to recognize each other as part of the same human family inhabiting the same earth. Our humanity transcends all differences. We are all one and interconnected. We must come together regardless of petty differences, and refuse to participate in the polarization (us vs. them) that is being foisted upon us. There is not any one group, race, or class that is better than others or deserves more attention than others. We’ve all got to get up and scream “I’m a human being and my life has value, enough is enough.” We need to wake up and take charge of our lives and freedoms. We need to stop conforming and complying and obeying orders from a bunch of old men without a conscience who do not care for humanity. To them the human race is disposable, we are like livestock, cattle to be controlled, a herd that needs to be thinned.

Both political sides are deeply corrupt and lie to the people. Adolf Hitler was proud of saying “Make the lie big. Keep it simple. Keep saying it and eventually, they will believe it.” He used the media to spread his propaganda. It is never about the common good. It is about control. We know things are bad and we are not doing anything to stop it. Compliance and obedience can lead to our demise. People need to start rebelling against things that are wrong, and stand up against attacks on medical and individual freedom.

It’s a very dangerous thing to just follow. Blind following of authority without thinking is what the people did in Nazi Germany.

What was a particularly frightening moment for you as a child refugee? In what ways do you think you have explored or commented on that experience in your art?

A particularly frightening moment for me as a five-year-old child refugee was unexpectedly finding out that I was not who I thought I was — that Linda was not my real name. On the first day of kindergarten the teacher called me by a foreign name. I thought I was Linda. At first I didn't know she was talking to me. Then she hung an identification dog tag which I was able to read around my neck. Printed on it was the name Lonia Friedman and my address. Suddenly discovering that life as I knew it was based on a long-term falsehood was shocking and traumatic. I was robbed of my image of self. My childhood was disrupted, I suffered an identity crisis that would last a lifetime when I found out that the child my parents wanted me to be was not who I really was.

I have explored and commented on that experience in my artwork “Implausible Applause,” 2006, a self portrait of myself as a young child being applauded by parental hands. I am portrayed with no arms or hands in this work (no artist hands). My mother and father are applauding Linda in the role she was playing to satisfy them, the Linda they created, not the real me. Linda had to meet enormous parental academic expectations. To be loved she had to skip multiple grades in school and look pretty. The price I paid for the love given to me by my parents was the abandonment of my own true self. I grew up with the uncomfortable conflicted feeling of being a false self.

Much of my art is about the shedding of the skin, the struggle to become the real me. My medium [of] clothing is the second skin, a marker of identity. Clothing shapes our bodies but it also shapes our notion of how we see ourselves and how others see us. it is what people wear to announce who they are or who they would like to be. It indicates our real or desired identities. It is a tool that can be used to transform the self, to become other. In my process I deconstruct representations of false identity, clothing. I rescue an identity that was discarded, my own.

“Implausible Applause,” 2006 - Discarded clothing, tinted gesso, 40 x 48 in.

Where, when, and how often do you make art? Is it a formal or organic process?

I begin making art first thing in the morning in my studio which is attached to my home. I do this every day when there is no other pressing obligation. There is no set time for starting and stopping. I work with natural light only; I never use lamps nor make art after dark. I believe that I am guided by a higher power that provides inspiration and ideas.

“Emotional narrative portraits” is a term used for your artwork created from discarded clothing. Would you say this is an accurate label?

“Emotional narrative portraits” is a label I use for my artwork. I believe it is an accurate label. I could add more adjectives like “Conceptual” and “Textile” but then it becomes too wordy. My conceptual textile artwork is centered on medium, process, and their associations and relationships. It is heavily layered in metaphor and meaning. The work depicts my internal reality and personal history which overlaps the collective experience. I don't consider myself a textile artist, nor a craft artist, nor a folk artist and I am definitely not a rug hooker.

I don’t liked to be boxed in. I like making art that resists categorization. I purposely avoided using the word “textile” in the description because textiles are still maligned and undervalued by some in the art world. Upon first viewing images of my artwork people often often think they are paintings which is a good thing when entering contemporary art competitions. Not using the word “textile” gives my work a better chance of being selected, avoids immediate elimination.

When I was a kid, clothing had a much longer lifespan than it does now. For example, a man’s shirt would be patched at the elbows, then turned into a short-sleeved casual weekend shirt, then kids’ costumes, after that, dust cloths and finally rags to clean the floor. Do you think your artwork gives a second or third life to discarded clothes?

Yes, my work gives a second or third life to discarded clothing. I have never casually discarded my own clothes. I’ve always given them new life. Some of my own clothing was downsized, embellished, and made to fit my children. Sometimes I transformed my clothes into different garments, for example a pair of pants could become a shirt, a jacket, or a few tank tops. I would wear those for a while before passing them down to my older daughter who then passed them down to her younger sister. And after all that it goes into my artwork.

Do you believe objects (like clothing) hold the history or energy of its owners?

I believe clothing holds the history and energy of former wearers. Clothes are alive with everything they have witnessed. They hold and retain memories and history; they are suffused with the traces of human life. Because of close contact with the body, clothes retain the body’s imprint, absorb the wearer’s energy, and carry residues of sweat, skin cells, stains, tears, and hairs. Clothes also hold smells which evoke memory. When objects and items are discarded, there is a transfer of energy from former users to new owners.

Recycled clothing links me to others, gives me an opportunity for exchange, represents a profound level of intimacy, enables me to connect with countless others long gone whose garments and long-forgotten histories wear on in my work.

You say that discarded clothing is your “paint.” What would you say is your palette?

My palette is a large wall of discarded clothing organized by color in my studio. Each color occupies a separate cubicle. The wall includes clothing of every color and multiple shades of each color. There are also multicolored and patterned clothes that I use to add texture and tactility to the artwork.

How does working with discarded clothing give a second chance to not just the items of clothing, but a second chance to you, as well?

Working with discarded clothing gives a second chance not just to the items of clothing, but a second chance to me. When I was almost fifty years old God gave me a second childhood, a chance to be the real me, to revive the true self that was discarded, the true self that was never appreciated or loved. It was a chance to become an artist and a dancer, a chance to find joy in life, a chance to explore unlimited creative possibilities. These are the chances I never had when I was growing up.

Unraveling a torment through art is a guarantee of sanity. This was my opportunity to rescue the self that was discarded in childhood, a chance to heal the pain and sadness I carried within for years. My artwork is catharsis.

Your technique involves rug hooking but you have no interest in rug-making. What made you choose using an everyday technique in an artistic way?

I had never heard of rug hooking, never saw a hooked rug until 1998 when I stumbled across a book about rag rugs from the UK in the local library. I believe I was lead to this book by a higher power. I needed to heal trauma. I had been stifling a desire to paint because I was untrained and uncomfortable with the materials and technique. This book pointed the way to make art using cloth and a crochet hook, both of which were familiar to me. I started experimenting right after the library visit. Hooking was easy for me. Knowing nothing about the rules of hooking was an advantage. There was nothing to fear, only endless possibilities for experiencing joy through color, texture, and self-expression.

My process became a self-taught subversion of this traditional craft. I never wanted to be a rug hooker. The rug had been pulled out from under my feet too many times in my life. I was hooked on a subject — emotional trauma that needed to be healed. What I had to express was difficult and painful. Hooking is a slow, repetitive process; one must labor at it for a long time and battle with the material to express what you want to say. I liked working with the physical resistance of the material, the violent cutting and the pulling. It gave me the right to be aggressive, destructive, to cut everything, break everything, to do it in order to heal and to create something beautiful and new. Engaging with the endless rhythmic process of hooking creates a sense of peace and calm, a relaxation response, a feeling of serenity. It is meditative, encourages reflection.

I hand cut and hand hook thousands of pieces of discarded clothing into each work to transform what was once abandoned into a source of beauty and compassion. I remind the viewer that we are all fragments enmeshed and interconnected, fragments that hook into each other. My intent is not to make rugs, but rather to elevate rags and rugs, metaphors for discarded, disrespected, and downtrodden humanity. My interest lies in revealing painful memories usually swept under the rug.

What are examples of “repair” that you have done through your artwork?

I repair myself through my artwork. I give my traumatic history a physicality. I stop holding onto it after giving it physical form. I remove the suffering from myself by depicting it on the surface of the artwork. The cloth and the viewers then become witnesses who help me heal. As I am witnessed, a new reality begins to take shape. By transforming psychological trauma into physical form, I make physical order out of emotional disorder. I reveal feelings and personal history, expose and share what is usually shoved under the rug. It is the process of releasing, letting go of the suffering, and being witnessed that provides relief.

Sometimes this actually cures a physical disorder for which doctors have no answers. “Unshed Tears, Swallowed Anger” was created to heal an issue with excess mucus in my throat. The doctors I visited were ready to use invasive procedures. Instead, I cured myself by creating this artwork. Bearing witness, a term used in psychology, refers to sharing our traumatic experiences with others. Bearing witness is a valuable way to process an experience, to obtain empathy and support, to lighten the emotional load and to obtain catharsis via sharing it with the witness. Cloth material can also bear witness to the textile artist because it takes on the imprint of energy, memory, and the hand of the maker.

“Unshed Tears, Swallowed Anger,” 2018 - Discarded clothing, 18 x 14 inches

Other examples of repair through my artwork that come from the sharing of traumatic experience with a witness:

“Ridicule” depicts the reaction of my grandfather the first time we met. I was an eleven-year-old who journeyed for two weeks by ship to meet him. I was expecting love and hugs but instead I was shamed, humiliated and ridiculed the moment he laid eyes on me. Ridiculing a child is a form of emotional abuse. Through this work I heal myself and speak up for all emotionally abused children.

“Pinched” is an autobiographical image of physical child abuse. My father was a tinderbox that a wrong word, a gesture, an unconsidered act would inevitably ignite. His wife and daughters became victims of this rage. A painful memory is his pinching my sister and me using a full-bodied grip accompanied by a clockwise twisting motion that hurt and burned so much it seemed to last forever. I feared him throughout my childhood. Through this work I heal myself and give others the courage to speak out about their own childhood abuse.

“Clothed and Fed” is another autobiographical image. It depicts a sad, lonely child who is hungry for love. I use the power of creativity to heal and transform my own painful past and also speak up for today's children with unmet needs. My artwork is an intervention to prevent illness, a way to drive out, then reconstruct and repair past damage. I give the fear, the sadness, the pain a physicality so it becomes a manageable reality.

Epigenetics teaches that traumatic experiences in our past, or in our recent ancestors’ past, leave molecular scars adhering to our DNA. Adverse childhood experiences are a key factor that plays a role in disease. Shame, secrecy, and social taboos against exploring certain areas of life experience keep people sick. Damage is also ameliorated through the outworking of ones hands. The meditative process used to transform the discarded clothing also repairs the maker. When you’re in the rhythm of making, only now exists. There is only the present. The past has fallen away, and the future disappears. The art has taught me that creativity is a remedy. The artist creates a form of mending for herself via the physical act of creating. Emotional repair can be accessed through making. The act of making is a form of mending. “Art is restoration: the idea is to repair the damages inflicted in life to make something that is fragmented — which is what fear and anxiety do to a person — into something whole” - Louise Bourgeois, 1992

“Ridicule,” 2012 - Discarded clothing, 22 x 21 in

“Pinched,” 2014 - Discarded clothing, 12 x 15 inches

“Clothed and Fed,” 2018 - Discarded clothing, 20 x 20 inches

Why do you think that art is a process of unmaking and remaking?

I am a self taught artist who never learned what art is supposed to be. I was driven by unconscious forces to make art the way that I do. I had a great need to unmake trauma. Art was a way to unmake pain, a way to rescue myself.. It was not until years later that I began to discover what my art is all about. I am still learning about this. My artwork is loaded with metaphor. My process is a metaphor for assimilation. Immigrants have to undergo the unmaking and remaking of the self to fit into the dominant society. My parents did not understand the huge psychological impact assimilation could make on a young child who was not ready to find out she was not who she thought she was. Although they too must have suffered the mental health challenges of the loss of identity, it was not something they were consciously aware of. They were accustomed to unmaking and remaking themselves. During the Holocaust they had to assume multiple false identities to survive.

My artwork is a type of exorcism, an intervention to prevent illness, a way to drive out, then reconstruct and repair past damage. The art I create is about the rehabilitation of the self, a way to heal. I have to destroy the painful past, the past history, and remake it. I have to unmake the old clothes, and make something new out of them. I have to unmake the false self, unmake a painful history. I deconstruct, then reconstruct the garments to redress old wrongs, to be free of restraining clothes. I have to expose the wounds, tell the painful story on the surface of the art to heal the wounds.

My process involves hand cutting the clothing into strips. There is a terrific need to destroy it in order to reconstruct it, to tear it apart and put it back together again, to take the event in hand and actively manipulate it. Making a whole out of the many pieces is a way of repairing and healing the self.

In what way does art have the potential to mend, transform, and heal society?

Human feelings and experiences are universal. Art can engage the viewer on an emotional level to encourage empathy, compassion, and love. Artwork can make the viewer feel the pain of those who have been discriminated against simply for their race, religion, or ethnicity. It can further the understanding of diverse cultures and traditions. Art can open hearts, help viewers recognize the connectedness we have with each other. Art can give the voiceless a voice. It can be used for political and social activism. Art can amplify social issues, offer criticism, expose abuses. Art can take a stand against injustice and oppression. Art can call out hatred and put it in your face. It can inspire people to confront hatred, to take a stand against it, and promote human dignity. Art can expose people to what they would rather not see; it can push back on complacency. Art can advocate for equality for all and lead to positive action and change. Art can confront tensions that exist, and at the same time acknowledge a desire for understanding and friendship. Art can give people hope.

There are no taboo subjects in art. Art can open a dialogue about anything, it can educate and help us understand the sensitivities of others, make us more attentive to challenges they face. It can provoke the viewer to think; it can trigger conversations and ideas. Art can expose individual and societal wounds. It can make emotional pain visible, expose traumatic experiences, and heal others by encouraging them to release their own feelings and trauma from the past. It can empower others to tell their own stories, to release their own grief and liberate themselves without shame. The body does not forget its history. Shame, secrecy, and carrying wounds from childhood quietly inside for years affects one’s health and well being. Trauma is healed when it is shared and brought to the light. When we heal our trauma, we'll heal the world.

What is a piece of artwork you have made which created “something new and beautiful after a breakdown”?

That quote is from my artist statement. By breakdown I mean a breakdown of the discarded clothing. The process involves breaking, cutting, pulling. I think all of my work is beautiful, no matter what the subject is. The beauty is in the colors and the texture. If you mean a mental breakdown, my trauma never prevented me from performing normal day-to-day activities. It presented itself as physical ailments, health issues.

Several years of psychotherapy gave me the courage to start making art and start dancing when I was nearly fifty years old. The psychotherapist was a witness, a person who could listen without judgment while knowing the right questions to ask that would illuminate my path. My first piece of art was a beautiful abstract floral artwork I called “Paradise,” (1998-1999 - Discarded clothing, 25 x 16 inches).

I didn't know anything about the proper supplies, I used my own clothing, a regular crochet hook, and a found piece of burlap for the backing.

In what ways do you feel art can address inequality and violence against women?

Art can empower women with visual imagery that helps them see themselves as strong, unafraid, and equal. Art can give them the courage to liberate themselves. Artists can explore themes that delve into feminism, and women’s history, and portray women who overcame difficulties. Artists can tell the truth about their own experiences in a patriarchal society, art can raise awareness of gaps in the law that leave women without legal recourse. Portraits can depict the suffering of women and inspire empathy, compassion from the public. Protest Art can depict women’s anger and be displayed publicly. Art can depict violence against women and pierce the veil of silence concerning abuse and aggression towards women. Artists can use a violent destructive process to criticize and highlight injustice and oppression.

Why do you think that textile art is so often created by women?

For years women have been controlled and silenced by the dictates of society, government, religion, family, husbands, fathers, other men, and fear. The reason that textile art is so often created by women is that it gives women a voice, an opportunity to protest, a chance to express anger, to speak out about social, political, and cultural issues. Through textiles women have been able to disturb the peace, to express feelings of dismay and dislike, and to critique anything they wish, and do so anonymously if they don’t sign their work.

What do you like and dislike about the art world?

I like the way artists help each other. I like the way female curators and gallerists support female artists. I like when underrepresented creators, no matter what gender, age, race, or ethnicity, are given a chance to show their work. I like no fee juried exhibitions. I like when galleries pay for return shipping. I dislike the constant changes in museum curatorial staff. It takes years to connect with the right people and is disheartening to find out that they have retired, or been retired by their institution, or that they have changed jobs voluntarily and moved on to another unrelated position.

I dislike secretive, unspoken rules. I dislike that galleries recruit artists from MFA programs before they even graduate. I dislike that an MFA from Yale or a comparable school is needed to be accepted into some galleries. I dislike that there is discrimination by gender, race, and religion. (Early advice I was given by a private dealer was to “drop the Friedman from your name.”). I dislike the categorization of art as high or low, textile art, or craft art. I dislike the low status of craft and women in the art world. I dislike that textile making is still sometimes ranked below the mediums of painting and sculpture.

“UNRAVELED: Confronting the Fabric of Fiber Art,” is now display at NYC’s Untitled Space through May 28, 2021.

View more of Linda’s work on her site and Instagram.

Millicent Borges Accardi is the author of two full-length poetry collections, most recently, Only More So (Salmon Poetry 2016). She has received fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, Fulbright, CantoMundo, California Arts Council, Barbara Deming, Fundação Luso-Americana (FLAD). Her close to 50 reviews and interviews have appeared in publications such as Another Chicago Magazine, Portuguese American Journal, and AWP Writers’ Chronicle. Find her @TopangaHippie (Twitter and IG).

Main page photo by James Kriegsmann