The Edge of Sight — A/W 27.28

Where Something Happens

The eye instinctively searches for the center. We let it drift toward the edge.

We have often questioned material itself: the light that passes through it, the air that sets it in motion, the hands that shape it. Now the question changes. Not what to look at, but where. How far.

Trimmings never occupy the center. They inhabit the threshold.
Between one material and another.
Between structure and ornament.
Between what is seen and what holds.

They run along an edge and gather where two surfaces meet.
It crosses the empty room and almost disappears, tiny against the white.
It compresses into a line, and the line becomes a horizon.
It presses against the foreground, filling it until the surface begins to distort.

Everything slips toward an edge.And that is where something happens.

It has always been our craft. Trimmings.
The art of defining where a fabric ends