Clare Langford

We caught up with Clare Langford, one of the West Midlands weavers activating an AVL Studio Dobby loom, on loan from Birmingham City University (BCU) as part of Ikon’s exhibition Thread the Loom.

Can you tell us about some highlights from your residency?

There have been many. First and foremost, the chance to spend uninterrupted, indulgent time cocooned in a creative bubble away from the routines of daily life. It gave me the space to reconnect with a part of my practice that had long been tucked away, hidden, or quietly waiting to resurface.

I’ve also valued the conversations I’ve had and the people I’ve met. Three encounters, stand out in particular:

One was with a school visitor who lit up with excitement and curiosity as I introduced her to the tabletop hand loom. Her response reminded me of my own first experience with weaving, and the spark it ignited in me. Another was observing a young French child who, without any instruction, was drawn to the warping mill and instinctively began winding a warp, miraculously following the exact threading path around the pegs to form the cross. It was great to witness such an intuitive connection. And finally, there was a deeply affirming moment shared with a woman from New Zealand, an unspoken, almost spiritual connection that came at a time when I most needed encouragement.

I also found great peace in the quiet, reflective moments spent in the exhibition space before it opened to the public. It became a calming and contemplative environment where I could simply sit with the work and think about where my ideas were heading that day.

A final and unexpected highlight was discovering one of my dad’s hand-drafted blueprints from his time as an engineering designer – it really seemed to connect well with my concept of hand and machine. Paired with a hand-embroidered tablecloth made by my mom, which inspired aspects of my off-loom weaving-in process, it felt like a full-circle moment, connecting generations, craft and memory in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

Please describe what work you’ve produced on the loom.

I entered this process without a fixed outcome in mind, choosing instead to trust my instincts and follow a growing curiosity around the relationships between the man-made and the natural, the analogue and the digital, the computer and the hand. My approach was guided by an openness to explore and a desire to work intuitively, often finding the journey more rewarding than the outcome.

A key part of this body of work is a commitment to ‘using up’ materials I already had, such as natural plant waste from my garden, beach finds like washed-up fishing lines, ropes and braids, and more recently, waste fishing line sourced from a recycling scheme. These materials had been waiting patiently in my studio and this project was a chance to finally give them new life, reflecting a shift toward a more sustainable approach in my practice.

The pieces have emerged organically through the hand weaving process, shaped by a direct and tactile engagement with the materials. I made decisions in real time, guided by the texture, flexibility and unexpected colour combinations of the salvaged materials. The results were deliberately simple in pattern, allowing the richness of the materials to come forward and complexity to build through manual selection and insertion techniques, methods not achievable with a computerised Dobby loom in its current configuration.

In an increasingly digital world, I think it’s important to value the sensory depth that comes with working by hand, embracing the happy accidents and celebrating irregularities. As a hand weaver, I rely on sight, touch and even sound; an embodied experience that machines, however advanced, still can’t replicate. For me, this sensory awareness is not just a technique, but something deeply worth preserving.

What have you learnt from this experience?

Much of what I’ve learned has been about myself and my approach to practice, particularly around resilience, trust and empowerment. I’ve learned to trust myself. To quiet the imposter syndrome and have faith in my ability, even when the outcome feels uncertain. I’ve realised that it’s okay for this to be the beginning of something, rather than a polished, final result.

I’ve discovered the value of embracing digital tools in ways that complement, rather than compromise, my practice. Using my commute to digitally sketch out ideas on the move helped me track and plan my thoughts in real time. I’ve also regained confidence in using ScotWeave, revisiting knowledge that had faded through lack of regular practice.

I’ve been reminded how important it is to keep capturing fleeting moments through photography, observation and reflection. It’s part of what fuels my creative curiosity. I’m learning to believe that perhaps these moments are worth sharing too, they might even resonate with others. I’ve also been thinking about the value of feeling, both physically and emotionally, as something deeply human. In a world increasingly shaped by AI, this ability to feel, to be ‘old school’, to work by hand and heart, is something I want to hold on to.

And finally, on a more light-hearted note, I’ve learned that creative ideas often come when I’m most relaxed – sitting in a hot tub for instance! I remember Grayson Perry once saying “you have to be relaxed to be creative”, and I’ve certainly found that to be true during the residency.

This exhibition is supported by Jerwood Foundation, Cotton Textiles Research Trust, The Saintbury Trust and Freelands Foundation.