JORT | 2018-2022

When the sea had disappeared, and the wind had already blown for many centuries, came the humans. They were brave men and beautiful women. My ancestors. The women wore long braids, which they adorned with coins. They rode and their braids sang in the wind. They lived in round soft felt houses, which could be quickly disassembled and carried with them. They called them "Jorts," or yurts – “houses to be carried with you.”

Now the Tatars are sedentary and their buildings are angular and made of stone, but they still call them Jorts, whether small houses, schools, museums, or skyscrapers.

The sea does not disappear without a trace. The long history and the longing remain in one word.

In my childhood was the snail a most mysterious creature to me. She also carries her house with her. A nomad with her house in a special shape.

With just hot water and rolling, wool becomes matted and made into a material that was vital to human survival thousands of years ago.

The process I learned as a child, when we worked the wool from my grandparents’ sheep into felt rugs. All relatives participated. Singing helped to get the right rhythm while rolling the wool both with hands and feet. It was a party with a good vibe and delicious food afterwards.

The process took a few days, and afterwards, everyone could take a beautiful carpet home with them. They were laid on the ground or hung on the walls so as to not let the cold wind through in winter.

Living in a big city, and especially after my grandparents’ death, my family lost our connection to making felt. But after many years and my move to Germany, the properties of felt became necessary to me.

My life shifts between Germany and Russia. When trying to define the borders of my inner geography, much is lost, while other things are gained or considered. Cracks form in my soul.

So I built a new house made of felt. The felt brings the warmth of my ancestors to me and helps me find myself anew.