ILEANA SOTO
Climate Alert Defender/Art Activist

Art has always been important to me. Inspiration that sustained my making has come to me from a variety of sources: the use of thread and color; my Romanian and Peruvian heritages; my Art History degree; my life as a weaver and as an artist-in-residence for the state of Washington; from courses at the California College of Arts and Crafts; the use of art therapy as a communication tool in my work as a family therapist; and, my own inner resources. Throughout the years I have created textile art in the forms of fiber sculptures, sewn collages, pieced quilts, and currently, art quilts with a surface design emphasis.

My Romanian maternal grandmother taught me to cross stitch. I felt destined to work in cloth, inspired by her artistry in thread and the long history of weaving via my Peruvian heritage. As a young weaver I loved the challenge of mixing thread textures and colors on the loom to create unusual fabrics. Living in Northeast Washington, I used weaving to express myself and “paint” the environment around me.  At that time I was crafting jackets and shirts and was in close conversation with my patrons about their color and shape preferences.  I called those body coverings “healing garments.”  

In order to push the boundaries of my weaving, I found teachers who could support my intentions and moved to California to study. My work at the Textile Department of the California College of Arts and Crafts gave me confidence, and from there I entered a counseling psychology Master’s program. In this profession I could combine art and healing work with the inner lives of clients.  Art therapy and improving communication amongst families proved deeply satisfying.  

My art reflects a commitment to personal deepening, expression, and exploration.  I strive to create a dialogue between myself and the cloth.  This work grows more complex with each layering of dye, paint, and, sometimes, surprising additional elements.  Layers of cloth might be fused onto one another; they might hang freely atop one another, or even emerge from behind one another.

My work as a family therapist helped family members ease their pain by going deeper, a process which enabled them to develop healthier connections and a better understanding of one another.  My engagement in therapeutic work sharpened my ability to recognize harm and its effect on others.  I learned how to teach families to take steps to prevent further damage. Through my art, I choose to alert my viewer about the harm caused to our fellow human beings and to our planet.

As part of a team I taught a parenting program in which parents learned effective ways to reorient their relationship with their challenging teens.  This group of parents in turn became supportive leaders for one another.  Witnessing this reparative process reinforced my principle that a sense of community is essential to heal and sustain our environment.  I bring this to my art today.

In 2015, six months after retiring as a family therapist, art therapist, and clinical manager of a public agency I entered Jane Dunnewold’s  two-year Art Cloth Mastery Program.  Jane showed us the art of surface dyeing and printing.  She was encouraging and supportive of the unique vision of each person in her program. I have nurtured my artistic relationships with Jane, Els Van Baarle of The Netherlands, and my quilter, Angie Woolman.  They are my mentors. 

Through explorations of my artistic capacities I have felt close to artists and artisans of cultures before me.  My research of other cultures led me back to my own cultural heritage and questions to ask myself.  Who do I want to be? Where do I come from?  Where am I going?  Can I differentiate between heritage and those aspects of myself I want to intentionally develop?

Textiles in the Amano Museum in Lima, Peru inspired “Chancay II.”  The Chancay culture was a Pre-Incan Peruvian culture, and the Chancay were known for their skills with cloth. They specialized in knowing the “essence” of a thing through sophisticated threadwork patterns called “gauzes.” When pulled taut their patterns can be seen; when released the patterns are hidden to the ordinary person.  This became a metaphor for me. Could I show the complexity of a culture through paint, dye and texture on cloth? As I developed my own layers of complexity, my artistic expression became clearer and more direct.  

While considering content, I attend to color, texture, rhythm, composition, and how these impact what I’m working on. In “Mounting Curves,” the juxtaposition of geometric shapes with curves, motion, dynamic energy, and finally the frantic upwelling of clustered shapes in the lower right corner led me to its title. The phrase mounting curve, previously little-used, has become synonymous with our Covid 19 pandemic. In developing a piece, clarity and meaning may not be known beforehand. It emerges during the process of guiding the work towards completion. 

I’ve been able to consolidate my work in book form this year: “Step by Step, Forming My Art: Textiles, Collage, Poetry and Story” (linktr.ee/ileana37).   In this book project, I was able to capture the arc of my artistic development.  The book threads together works done throughout my lifetime.  Writing also gave me the opportunity to integrate experiences as a community facilitator of others’ art.  My later pieces speak to a vision uniquely my own.  

I maintain a strong, supportive network of artists around the country and the world, including my current membership in Art Cloth Network.  TSGNY provides excellent programs of inspiration. 

I ask myself where I want to grow next.  I have ideas to extend my series about migration and climate justice, and am still exploring the unifying themes of culture, community and climate alert.   I continue my search to identify my unique hand-made marks:  brush strokes, shapes and gestures I use to express a deeper part of myself. 

 www.ileanasoto.com