Zoe Rehnborg
O horizon, 2021
Yarn (cotton and wool), satin ribbon, felting wool
29 x 29 inches
On a tranquil walk in the woods, you find yourself looking up at the towering trees. Sunlight flickers through the great leafy crowns, and you trace a beam down to the forest floor. There, a mushroom - perhaps a scarlet-hued amanita or wrinkly morel - catches your eye. As you admire it, you begin to notice the surrounding undergrowth: a carpet of moss and shrubbery in every possible shade of green.
This piece is, in a sense, an ode to the forest floor (or as it’s also called, the O horizon). I am fascinated by the underground mycelium networks that play a major role in our ecosystem. These pathways of fungi enable communication and nutrient exchange between the different plants which together make up a forest. So often we define forests by the lofty trees stretching high above our heads, and while they are certainly magnificent, it is equally important to understand what is happening below our feet. Particularly in the Pacific Northwest, hundreds of species of moss blanket the earth; preserving the health of the soil from which mushrooms (the fruiting bodies of those essential mycelium networks) erupt and release their spores. I wanted to highlight this fascinating biodiversity and to reframe soil, moss, and fungi - these natural materials we’ve strived to hide away under concrete and separate from our “clean” and “enlightened” human image - as beautiful and powerful things. When we clear cut forests to make space for yet another industrial monocrop farm, we disrupt the natural soil biome and release carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. Not only does this contribute to global warming, but failing to care for the soil decreases crop yields which results in further utilization of toxic chemical fertilizers (and the cycle continues). Environmental scientists, microbiologists, and biodynamic farmers from around the world are advocating for a new way of thinking about dirt. By cultivating healthy, carbon-rich soil, these tiny and ancient microbial life forms might just save our planet.
To execute my thesis, I’ve used various kinds of yarn to create a latch hooked tapestry that mimics natural undergrowth. More so than any other medium, the physical connectivity of textile work best represents the mutual symbiotic association between fungi and plants. I’ve also felted several mushroom varieties, both edible and toxic, commonly found throughout the Pacific Northwest. Peeking around the border is a rigid pattern of shiny synthetic fabric. This contrasts directly with the tapestry’s softer earthy tones in order to reflect humanity’s impact upon the natural landscape. If you are curious to learn more about mycelium networks, biodynamic farming, and sustainability, please engage with the work of Dr. Suzanne Simard, Paul Stamets, and Vandana Shiva.
