BEHIND THE SEAMS
Domino Whisker’s intricate work is often born of difficult emotions, but her process is adept at uncovering the beauty within them.
In studio with creative dynamo Domino Whisker
Anyone familiar with Domino Whisker’s delicately beautiful embroidery will know how her pieces often weave darkness and light into one. An ostensibly pretty image can be undercut by an expression of fear, of yearning, of sadness: a duality that perhaps stems from the origin of her craft.
In 2014, she came home from America to look after her father, artist Charlie Whisker, who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. “My life drastically and dramatically changed that year,” she says. “I was caring for him, and trying to figure out my life. I had these long days and nights to fill, so I started doing embroidery.” Coming from a creative family (her mother is fashion designer Mariad Whisker), she says she never planned to be an artist, but she admits the skills she taught herself during this period definitely run in the family. “At the time, I felt this deep
“You spend so much time with the piece, and therefore the emotion that started it.
By the end, you’ve let it go. I feel like I’ve saved myself years of therapy.”
connection to my dad’s mother, who also did needlework and I never actually met. By embroidering, I was doing something she would have been doing when my dad was a small boy… both of us caring for him.”
As well as a physical distraction, the work helped Domino process her emotions, articulating them stitch by stitch. “One of the first pieces I ever did says, ‘I’m in an unfamiliar place’. I had no idea where I was in the world, or where I was going. But the nature of embroidery means you spend so much time with the piece, and therefore the emotion that started it. By the end, you’ve let it go. I feel like I’ve saved myself years of therapy.”
This manifestation of feelings, fixing them to fabric, hasn’t lost its poignancy even six years later. At the beginning of the pandemic, Domino started recording her thoughts in a series of small pieces on two lengths of fabric. “Some were playful, some were dark and emotional, but I didn’t know what I was going to do with them,” she explains.
They eventually became Notes to Self, a box containing 24 works, scanned and printed onto textured linen cards. The free-flowing nature of hand embroidery makes them reminiscent of a note you might scribble down for yourself, but the impact of each design stays with you long afterwards.
“I didn’t realise at the time that what I was stitching was going to resonate with so many people,” Domino explains. “I thought some of the things I was writing were a bit odd; but it turned out that a lot of people really felt something, to know that you’re not alone with those emotions.”
Their impact also speaks to the power of very few words. Domino says she is inspired by poetry, how these concise constructions can be endlessly interpreted. She gives the example of a piece that reads “It only hurt for a year”. “I remember putting that on Instagram and thinking it was a bit depressing. But immediately, a good friend sent me a message that said, ‘That has given me so much hope’. I was confused, but he said, ‘Domino, it only hurt for a year? In the grand scheme of things, that’s nothing – it’s just a year.’ He interpreted it as completely hopeful. I was so shocked that I could be feeling extremely dark putting something down, but it could be positive for someone else.”
Her emotions might provide the impetus for her work, but Domino says that her mother and father are her two biggest creative influences. This is evident in her red-brick Ringsend home full of interesting objects, many of which once belonged to them. She originally found it as a place for her and her father to live. “My dad was a hoarder of all things weird and wonderful, so when we moved in, I carefully curated every corner of every shelf to represent different parts of his life so it felt familiar to him, no matter what phase of his life he was remembering.” Charlie moved into a nursing home two years ago, but his biker jacket and cowboy hat still hang by the door.
As well as her father’s writing desk, and a chicken painting he made for her, another favourite of Domino’s is a collection of her mother’s old garment labels.
“It’s like a timeline of her career. She has no idea why I wanted them, but her success gives me the motivation to keep doing what I’m doing, and to keep getting better.”
Domino constantly moves objects around, curating them like a personal museum. Everything from her grandmother’s rosary beads to a hippopotamus figurine from her sister’s childhood bedroom has a history. “I had a friend nickname my house ‘the treasure chest’, and that’s what it feels like to me. I find things every day that make me smile.”
Like all of us, she’s spent more time than ever in her home over the past year, and says for the first time since her career began, it’s forced her to slow down. “I started waking up and sitting on my doorstep with a coffee and a book, and I’ve never done that. My career was a gift, in a way, to have gotten something so beautiful out of something that was so tragic, and I think that can be said for a lot of things, even Covid-19 right now.”
Just how even the most depressing thought can be turned on its head: that a year of pain can be “just” a year, it’s comforting to be reminded there’s hope to be found in the darkest times.
“I thought that some of the things I was writing were a bit odd.
But it turned out that a lot of people really felt something.”