When is a rug not a rug? When it’s art
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With an adidas collab and a solo exhibition at London's Truman Brewery under her belt, 23-year-old Daisy Tortuga makes rugs to process the chaos of life.
Culture
Words: Jade Wickes
Over the course of the pandemic, rugs as we know them – fluffy, decorative, the occasional tassel – have transcended interior design and made their way into the world of art.
One young artist leading the charge is Daisy Tortuga. Since graduating from Kingston University with a degree in illustration last year, she’s been creating pieces that tackle themes of sexuality, identity and self-reflection.
So how did Tortuga find herself at the forefront of the rug-making movement?
“I think rugs work for me because I like to make images, but I also like to use textiles and tangible materials,” the 23-year-old says. “I enjoy long and detailed processes, making really big work. It’s basically like drawing with wool.”
At first, food was a key feature of Tortuga’s work. She experimented with a tufting gun, making novelty, tongue-in-cheek rugs depicting surrealist full English breakfasts or Cherry B bottles, before moving on to more meaningful pieces inspired by loneliness, sexuality and heartbreak.
“Because of lockdown, a lot of people suddenly wanted to buy artwork because they were all stuck inside,” she continues. “I was selling lots of rugs at that point, and I was able to start doing it full time.”
In the space of a year, her distinctive illustrative style and humorous take on everyday rituals have earned her commissions from the likes of Nando’s and adidas, as well as a solo exhibition at the Truman Brewery in London entitled New Rug, New Me.
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Although big commercial jobs help to keep Tortuga’s DIY business afloat, making personal work is what makes her tick. New Rug, New Me, which opened on 4th June, marked a watershed moment.
“Each piece is like a diary entry, and it’s a very considered, personal series of works,” she says. One of them features a naked woman showering, her hair pouring from the rug in thick orange tassels. Another shows that same woman writing on a mirror with lipstick, “She was searching for a torch but all she found was a gaslight.”
“As I was making the series, I was kind of expelling feelings I had at the time,” Tortuga continues. “It was therapeutic to do that, to execute a piece and then move on from it. I just moved into a place of my own, so loneliness, lockdown and heartbreak all feature heavily – if I didn’t make this stuff, I’d go insane.”
Admittedly, the kind of rugs that Tortuga produces are worthy of being hung up on the wall, as opposed to shoved underneath a coffee table.
“When someone buys something, I can’t stop them from putting it on the floor,” she says with a laugh. “I wouldn’t feel offended by someone standing on my work, although I am worried about people slipping on them because they aren’t grippy like [normal] rugs.”
Health and safety be damned – a rug renaissance is at play.
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