In the Studio | A Conversation with Textile Designer, Lucie Panis-Jones

There’s a whimsical image that forms of Lucie as she sits behind her loom. A small girl, playing in a warm garden in Harare, sorting through a collection of bounty; a handful of flame-red lucky beans and a string of leathery oyster-shaped jacaranda pods.

I’m not sure whether this image is at odds, or aligned, with the sense I have of her – and of her accent that’s hard to place. And it’s for good reason; she was born in Zimbabwe, raised in America, Belgium and France, and lived in Spain and Belgium for her studies.

“I suppose I feel more French than anything else. But French people tell me I have an accent, and Americans tell me that I seem French. So I’ve learned to think of “home” as more a state of mind rather than a place.”

After finishing her schooling in Limoges, Lucie went on to study Textile Design in France, opening her to the world of knitting, screen printing and pattern design. But it was weaving that really ‘clicked’ for her.

“I could feel when things would fall into place and start working, and I adored the state of flow I found when throwing the shuttle back and forth. I then found a summer internship at Perrine Rousseau Paris, where I learnt to weave on pedal looms and to set up much wider and longer warps than I was used to at school. Being there and weaving all summer deepened my love for weaving and I knew this was something I wanted to pursue. Three years later, after a second Bachelors in Textile Design at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Brussels, Belgium, I was hired as the studio manager and production assistant at Perrine Paris.”

After working at Perrine Paris for almost two years assisting in the development of new textiles for their rug and fabric collections, she decided to embark on a new journey. Leaving Paris to take some time off, she found her way to Cape Town where she has recently graduated from the University of Cape Town with an Honours in Curatorship.

But making her way to Cape Town has also marked a fortuitous connection with Mungo, with a newly available floor space at our retail store on 78 Hout Street.

Built in 1900, and once an architecture studio and office, 78 on Hout is a unique heritage building that has been home to Mungo since 2015. The four-storey space once housed our beloved ‘Hattie’, a domestic shuttle loom who faithfully wove runs of Cook’s Cloths, and who frequently drew a crowd with her unmistakable, rhythmic ‘clacking sounds.’ But with the expansion of the Mungo Mill underway in 2021, it was time to unite Hattie with the rest of the looms, creating space for new creative flair, and a weaving studio for Lucie, at Hout Street.

Lucie’s pull towards textiles seems to be influenced by her diverse upbringing, and her keen interest in shapes, patterns, and textures, peppered by nostalgic childhood memories.

“One of my favourite books to look at when I was little was Tricia Guild’s White Hot: Cool Colours for Modern Living. Each page was filled with such considered interiors. I remember feeling so drawn to certain colours and ambiances, and can still picture my favourites without opening the book. I was also always making things. I painted and drew almost daily, experimenting with pottery, paper-making and batik. I went through a mobile phase, which then gave way to a tissue paper flower phase.”

There’s a sense that perhaps she finds a way to resolve her interests and identities within the world of textiles. A space to mete out her passion for art and eye for colour. A place to use creative expression as a means to create common ground; to pull together the fabric of her own life.

Against a backdrop of weaving samples and objects of inspiration, she recalls her first memory of being truly, and vitally, aware of the world of textiles.

“I was 19 years old, working at the Domaine de Boisbuchet, a cultural centre in the French countryside that organises summer architecture and design workshops. My first week there the summer exhibition, Boro: the Fabric of Life was being set up in the chateau. Boro was a technique of repairing clothing, widespread in Japan in the 1850s until the 1950s, which developed out of necessity; people only had a few items of clothing, which were handed down from generation to generation, so as the clothes wore out over time they were mended with various repair techniques. I realised that these kimonos, work outfits and clothes were intrinsically linked to the people who wore them, and told the stories of their lives with each patch, each stitch. I found this incredibly touching, especially in today’s consumerist society where we are constantly being told that new and perfect things are the most desirable, and are persuaded to replace items as soon as they become even slightly worn or damaged. Boro encourages us to see the beauty in imperfections. This exhibition made me want to study textile design and I’ve since tried to apply the principles of Boro in my work.”

There’s evidence of this in Lucie’s work. Perhaps most keenly in her growing passion for mending work.

“I suppose mending falls in line with my personal philosophy about clothing. I’m aware of the considerable strain the fashion industry puts on people and the planet and have been trying to minimise my own impact for a few years now. I wear what I already own and only buy when I really need something – and when I do, I buy second hand if possible or from brands that I believe aim to protect their workers and produce their clothing ethically and with the least environmental impact possible.

But clothes do eventually wear down over time, and that’s where mending comes in. I follow quite a few people on Instagram who do visible mending work, and I’ve been blown away by the amount of detail and care that goes into the mends – they’re like little works of art. It made me realise how much a mend could become a special part of the garment’s story. So I just started out by watching a few youtube tutorials – I learnt so much from other menders and, as with everything, practice makes progress. Also, darning is just like weaving on a tiny frame loom!

My favourite project is probably a mend I did for myself, on my favourite denim jacket. It’s a small strip of a darn that looks like gingham, and the blue and white look beautiful with the faded denim.”

There’s a noticeable synergy in this. A thoughtfulness to the work at hand, and a desire to create something of enduring appeal and longevity, that rings true to the core values of Mungo.

“My personal philosophy is to create with intention and purpose. I want to make things that are designed to last, and I want to make sure that if they do end up wearing down at some point, they are easily repairable in ways that make sense. I think that this is what Mungo strives for as well. Their products are designed to last, and are elegant and timeless, so I do think there is overlap there. I do know this from personal experience, as my own Folly Beach Towel has seen a lot of sun, water and wear over the years and it still looks just as good as when I first got it!”

Beyond adding new creative energy to Hout Street, Lucie’s studio is also a place for visitors to connect product to process. An experience akin to the Mungo Mill, where a full view of the production, right from the warping, weaving, cutting, sewing and finishing, is visible to the public. An immersive experience that gives a renewed appreciation for the final cloth, and the centuries-old craftsmanship at work.

Should you find yourself a curious visitor to Hout Street, you may be lucky to spy one of her recent works. ‘Moonlight’ was woven on her Öxabäck floor loom, nicknamed ‘Norma’ after her previous owner who, at first at pains to part with her, soon found Lucie to be a fitting new custodian.

“Moonlight contains both old and new, movement and rigidity. Old, because the pattern is a variation on a wheel overshot; a coverlet design which gained popularity in the mid 19th century in North America. And new because it is woven in a non-linear movement. In order to achieve the blue stain-like part, I wove interlocking weft. This slows down the weaving movement a bit because instead of passing the shuttle all the way through, you stop it halfway through the shed and pull through a different shuttle with a different coloured yarn through the other half.

It’s a piece that echoes some of my past work on the passing of time and memories fading away. It is a testament to my hands at work, to the hours I have spent weaving and to the many more hours I will spend behind the loom. I had a vague idea of what I wanted it to look like, but for the most part everything just happened organically on the loom – it took shape almost on its own. It was magic to get to cut it off and to see it unfurl and come to life as a piece of fabric. The transformation of single strands of yarn into a whole, complete cloth just completely blows me away every time.”

This play on old and new is where Lucie finds her creative niche; a meeting point between the familiar and the novel. And beyond the interesting use of technique, there’s a further curious story at hand – one that draws a golden thread between her work and Mungo.

“The blue-grey yarn is third hand. It was given by Stuart Holding, Mungo’s founder, to Norma Ordman (who I bought my loom from) years and years ago, who then recently gave it to the Weaver’s Guild shop to resell. I ended up buying it there and only afterwards discovered the hands it had passed through to get to me. It feels even more fitting that it’s now become part of a piece hanging in Hout Street.”

Thinking about the future, Lucie sees herself continuing to weave. And to continue to co-exist and create with care and intention.

“I’d like to see myself weaving more, and creating things on a slightly bigger scale. My dream is to live in a place where everything is handmade or made with purpose and intention. I’d happily live in a world where bartering was a socially acceptable means of payment – I love trading my fabric for something else made by hand. One day, I’d love to have a few more looms and the opportunity to teach people to weave.”

But for now, should you be in the Mother City, do make a turn at 78 on Hout. If not to browse the textiles on the shop floor, then perhaps to step into the studio below, where you’ll find Lucie, Norma and a creative hand at play.

You can follow Lucie’s textile art and projects on her Instagram via @lucieweaves