This project is dedicated to my grandmother, Valentina Khotsialova. Three memories of her have stayed with me over the years: the boundless, unconditional love she gave me; the quiet unhappiness that seemed to accompany her; and her extraordinary collection of fabrics.
As a child, I could lose myself for hours in that treasure trove — bright colors, rich textures, intricate ornaments. Running my hands through endless meters of fabric was one of my favorite games, a kind of private, tactile wonderland.
As a child, I could lose myself for hours in that treasure trove — bright colors, rich textures, intricate ornaments. Running my hands through endless meters of fabric was one of my favorite games, a kind of private, tactile wonderland.
Grandmother’s fabric
Textile bandages with stains of blood. Portfolio with fabric designs. Audio.
Years after her death, I asked my mother why I remembered her as unhappy, even though she seemed to have everything that society valued: love, security, beauty, elegant surroundings. What was the void that shadowed her life?
My mother’s answer surprised me:
“Don’t you know she dreamed of becoming a fabric designer?”
Valentina had imagined herself creating her own patterns — vivid florals, delicate graphics, ornaments that lived in her mind but never reached fabric. She never had the opportunity to make those dreams real.
This project is my way of continuing the story she never got to tell — giving shape, at last, to the colors and patterns she carried inside her.
My mother’s answer surprised me:
“Don’t you know she dreamed of becoming a fabric designer?”
Valentina had imagined herself creating her own patterns — vivid florals, delicate graphics, ornaments that lived in her mind but never reached fabric. She never had the opportunity to make those dreams real.
This project is my way of continuing the story she never got to tell — giving shape, at last, to the colors and patterns she carried inside her.
Valentina was born in 1923. The day after she finished school, Germany invaded the USSR. For her generation, the war was cataclysmic: statistics say that 80% of men born that year never returned. All of her male classmates were killed within the first two years. For the young women left behind, dreams of love and a future were shattered almost overnight. Life became a matter of survival.
She trained as a secretary and worked as a telephone operator during the war, then as a secretary afterward. In many ways, she was fortunate — she married my grandfather, a man fifteen years her senior, successful and captivated by her beauty. They moved to Finland, where he served as a Soviet trade ambassador. She didn’t need to work, and it was there, surrounded by foreign shops and new possibilities, that she began her fabric collection. She spent every spare ruble on textiles, as if building a private world from color and pattern.
Valentina was born in 1923. The day after she finished school, Germany invaded the USSR. For her generation, the war was cataclysmic: statistics say that 80% of men born that year never returned. All of her male classmates were killed within the first two years. For the young women left behind, dreams of love and a future were shattered almost overnight. Life became a matter of survival.
She trained as a secretary and worked as a telephone operator during the war, then as a secretary afterward. In many ways, she was fortunate — she married my grandfather, a man fifteen years her senior, successful and captivated by her beauty. They moved to Finland, where he served as a Soviet trade ambassador. She didn’t need to work, and it was there, surrounded by foreign shops and new possibilities, that she began her fabric collection. She spent every spare ruble on textiles, as if building a private world from color and pattern.
She trained as a secretary and worked as a telephone operator during the war, then as a secretary afterward. In many ways, she was fortunate — she married my grandfather, a man fifteen years her senior, successful and captivated by her beauty. They moved to Finland, where he served as a Soviet trade ambassador. She didn’t need to work, and it was there, surrounded by foreign shops and new possibilities, that she began her fabric collection. She spent every spare ruble on textiles, as if building a private world from color and pattern.
