The blanket’s drawing was built from straight, repetitive stripes, echoing the patterns of ordinary bed linens. I cut and shifted them, multiplied and erased lines, creating a rhythm that becomes irritating, almost unbearable to look at for long. Fragments disappear, seams misalign — a visual echo of the restless, fragmented nature of insomnia, where comfort turns into unease.
This digital image was printed at full scale and transferred onto fabric with carbon paper. Over two days, I traced every line by hand with a screwdriver (it was simply the best in terms of line thickness), inscribing the pattern into the textile. This labor was crucial: anxiety had to be physically carved into the blanket. Later, in the performance, the fabric’s lines shifted and transformed with my movements, becoming part of the struggle itself.