In 1997, mathematician Daina Taimina did something no one else had: She modeled hyperbolic planes using crochet. While the geometry of such planes was hard to convey with paper models, it lent itself well to the ways fiber creations bend and curve in space. Her project was part of a long history of strong ties between data and the fiber arts, from the first theoretical computer programs — written as patterns for Jacquard looms — to Christine and Margaret Wertheim’s “Crochet Coral Reef” project at the 2019 Venice Biennale.
“Wool and Water,” on view at North Branch Nature Center in Montpelier through December 18, takes that framework and weaves in environmental science data on the Lake Champlain basin. Organizer Michale Glennon, a senior research scientist for the Adirondack Watershed Institute, and 14 other artists present the data through weaving, knitting, felting, crochet and even earrings.
Glennon initiated the project in 2022, the 50th anniversary of the Clean Water Act, and created most of the pieces in the show. Information appears here in many forms, from crocheted whorls representing the bathymetry of Mirror Lake in Lake Placid, N.Y., to a beaded shawl numbering the bird species reported in New York’s Oseetah Lake marsh over the course of a year. All of the pieces are meant to raise awareness about water quality issues, such as the impacts of invasive species and climate change.
Some works in the show, such as Kathy Kelley’s weaving “Phosphorus in the Boquet River,” illustrate the data directly. While in a different context it might be interpreted as abstraction, this piece is pretty clearly a graph. Bright blue lines — reminiscent of the cyanobacteria that feed on phosphorus — dart up through a black background; years with very high levels are tipped in red.
Other works are much more opaque. Glennon’s “Ice Scarves,” for instance, are striped with rows indicating years with or without ice on Lake Champlain, while beads represent freeze dates. Out of context, the scarves would still be pretty, but they might not communicate much to an unknowing viewer.
Glennon’s hat and fingerless mitts cleverly represent stratification patterns in Adirondack lakes. Each thermal layer is a different shade of blue, and the hat is reversible: The wearer can turn it inside out in October to match the lake’s thermal turnover.
Some of the most effective pieces hint at information while leaving their sources ambiguous, prompting the viewer to investigate further. “Cranes,” also by Glennon, uses red accents on a crocheted shawl shaped like feathered wings to represent increasing sightings of sandhill cranes in New York’s Adirondack Park.
Sara Bertomen’s “Mirror Lake Ice Sweater” likewise accents a traditional pattern — an Icelandic lopapeysa design — with a subtle bar graph of ice levels on Mirror Lake.
Some pieces test our expectations of precision from data. Glennon’s “Salted Frogs,” for instance, aims to represent chloride concentrations in New York’s Rich Lake via white beads on flopped-over crocheted frogs. Though the frogs don’t really tell us much about salt, they do draw attention to the issue: The soft creatures are utterly pathetic and charming and not hopping anywhere.
The show is a good reminder that some of the most effective ways of presenting information have always been digital in a sense that returns to the word’s origin: made by hand.
The original print version of this article was headlined “Soft Science: “Wool and Water” at North Branch Nature Center”
This article appears in The Tech Issue 2024.
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