Neeldes in the Dark: A Knoir

In the Cornell College art department, like most art departments, each senior has to put on an art show at the end of the year.  The student can do ANYTHING, which is a very stressful concept.  There are painters, photographers, and sculptors of course.  But there are also somethings a little out of the ordinary.  Megan Sass wrote a full comic book and presented it in a gallery space as a comment toward the disrespect of the art of comic books.  Eva Pitsch did an instillation of antiques and worn out items creating a homey space that showed the passage of time.  We had a realist charcoal artist, Josephine Liu whose work was often confused for photography.  Abby Shultz once presented her menstrural blood. (You can see all of these artists work at http://www.cornellcollege.edu/art/student-work/index.shtml)  And then, sometimes, there is fiber.  This is where I come in.
Surely we have all heard of this yarn bombing craze (because it's so awesome).  I was a big fan of it since the beginning.  I love the idea of a rebellious graffiti art form that is inherently feminine.  Not only that but it is based in craft.

After being obsessed with, and participating in yarn bombing for over 4 years, I began to feel like it was getting a little redundant.  You knit a thing, you put it on a pole or a tree or a something, people see it, they think "Awww... that's neat", the end.  Then I discovered a creature.  A creature made completely out of yarn that crawled out of my scrap yarn basket one day.  I know, I know, I'm crazy. but! I have pictures now for proof!
This creature, it calls itself the Kninja, creates a situation that to my knowledge, is new.  It yarn bombs on site, knitting the piece onto the actual structure.  While doing this, it intereacts with the people that pass by creating a shared experience.

Once I discovered this creature, I began to study it. I wanted to know it's motivations and how it was created.  I was also making my own artwork on the side, preparing some stuff for my senior show.  Ultimately though, this Kninja became my obsession.  Not only was it a fascinating biological discovery, but it was also following me.  It showed up where I worked, at Cornell, and even places that I was just visiting.
After making a joke to one of my professors, this obsession became my senior show.  I essentially presented all of the evidence and ideas I had about the Kninja, and let the audience make their own decision about who and what it is.

This included a crime wall

The octopus that she left on a rock to perish one spring morning

The yarn case that she originally came out of (her mom?)

Some evidence left over by her previous attacks.  This particular piece blinded on of her victims while she made her escape

And a video compilation of some filmed footage

About halfway through the show, the Kninja actually appeared

She admired her friends

Stole some more of my yarn

Took photos with her adoring fans

Gave gifts to some of the lucky attendees

Shook her butt at those she did not like

and knitted with her colleagues

By the end of the show I had a guest book filled with theories and opinions of the Kninja.  They ranged from the obvious (A superhero's minion gone rogue) to the insane and obscure (me in a suit).  I found myself having one thought by the end of it.  Belief is a choice.  You can choose to believe that Kninja is simply me in a suit, but why would you?  The world becomes a much more interesting place when you believe in the magical.  You believe in the idea that there is a creature made of yarn attempting to make posts and trees warmer by giving them sweaters.


Thanks to Sandy Dyas and Kurt Friese for the Photos and Jacob Strain for the title