Text & Textile — Journal

I slide my rack into the center of the television studio and say hello to the Dragon's Den moguls. I have trouble articulating, my body is shaking. I say my name is Noémie, I barely have time to say that...

The forest is quiet these days. The geese I hear in the distance, the birds and a groundhog keep me company. She welcomes my future brides who are on the way to try on dresses, as if to wonder who...

In my father family, I heard about the correspondence of my great-grandparents. Dozens of love letters written before they got married, from 1925 to 1927. I never asked to see these letters, maybe I imagined old, poorly preserved, illegible relics; it...

Sitting behind my sewing machine in front of the four large windows, I look at the mottled birches and the immense conifer completely enveloped by the last snow. We did not cut the two entwined maple trees near the house....

I am raised by my grandmother and her older sister, I’m their little angel. I grow up in an apartment, I often eat creamy tomato soup and I play cards with them. One day, I discover lemon: I cut myself...

The dance of the construction site... The plasterers we met last June returned for phase two of the project. I feel like I’m living in a ghost house, all the furniture and my rolls of fabric neatly covered in canvas...