Textile alchemist, nomadic thinker, and a master of material storytelling — Adrian Pepe doesn’t just create, he transmutes. Whether working with wool harvested from migratory sheep or ancient techniques revived with a futuristic lens, his work lives at the intersection of nature, ritual, and radical imagination. A true wanderer in spirit and in practice, Adrian’s creations invite us to touch time, culture, and memory — all stitched into form.
KHAMSA sat down with Adrian Pepe for a deep dive into his world of textures, traditions, and transformative art.
All images courtesy of Adrian Pepe.
١. What inspired your journey as a fiber artist, and how does your Honduran heritage influence your work?
I first started working with fibers during my time at university, where there was a dedicated fibers program. Even though I started my studies in architecture, I slowly diverted my attention toward textiles, fueled by readings of Gottfried Semper, who suggests that the origins of architecture and textiles are intrinsically linked.
My engagement with fiber is not just about material. Textiles are indexical; they carry traces of the environments and cultures they come from. Growing up in Honduras, a place layered with Indigenous, African, Arab, and European influences, I became aware of how textiles hold and transmit cultural memory.
٢. How do you weave nature and culture into your pieces, and what does that process look like for you?
My work begins with raw materials—wool, fiber, and organic matter—each carrying traces of the landscapes from which they emerge. These materials are not passive; they hold memory, migration, and labor within their structures. By working directly with them, I engage with both their physical properties and the cultural narratives embedded in their use. I see textiles as a convergence of nature and culture, where human intervention and organic processes intersect.
٣. Your work often involves performance and durational elements—how do these live acts shape the final art objects?
Performance and duration are integral to my practice because they foreground process over outcome. The physical labor of making—layering fibers, felting, stitching—becomes a ritual in itself, revealing the entanglement between material, body, and time. These acts are not just about crafting an object but about inhabiting a process, where the body serves as both tool and site of transformation.
In works like Shedding, where wool is directly felted onto my body over hours, the process leaves behind an imprint—a skin, a residue of the act itself. The final object carries traces of movement, friction, and bodily presence, becoming an artifact of both labor and experience.
Ultimately, these live acts shift the focus from static objects to evolving relationships, where material memory and human gesture are equally present in the work.
٤. Can you share how engaging directly with raw materials, whether plant or animal, informs your creative process?
The process is self-referential. Engaging with raw materials is an act of deep listening. Each fiber—whether wool, flax, or silk—carries ecological and embodied histories. By working directly with these materials, I not only shape them but also allow them to shape my understanding of their agency, rhythms, and inherent dialogues.
٥. In your exploration of materiality, how do you approach the transformation of fibers into objects that spark dialogue?
Textiles are often seen as domestic, intimate, and utilitarian. I engage with these perceptions while pushing the boundaries of what fiber can be. By distorting scale, layering structures, and challenging expected functions.
I create works that exist in an in-between space—both tactile and conceptual, personal and expansive.
The process of making is slow, recursive, and layered with historical and cultural references. A piece of wool is never just wool—it is an artifact of land, migration, and labor. In my work, I try to make these hidden narratives visible, offering textiles as speculative spaces for conversation and re-examination.
٦. Your art tackles themes of cultural change and the present condition—what current societal or environmental issues drive your work?
I find that disposability defines much of our interaction with knowledge, material and labor. We consume resources without acknowledging their origins, extracting without reciprocity, and discarding without reflection. The materials I work with—wool, fiber, organic matter—carry their own histories, yet their significance shifts with context, economy, and perception.
What was once sacred becomes mundane; what was once survival becomes excess.
I am interested in how meaning is constructed and solidified over time—how systems we see as fixed are, in truth, mutable constructs shaped by repetition, habit, and historical amnesia.This erosion of material awareness is especially evident today, where disposability dominates how we treat both objects and knowledge.
٧. What role does mythology and symbolism play in your artistic narrative, particularly in the way you use color and texture?
Mythology is deeply intertwined with textiles. Across cultures, weaving is linked to fate, creation myths, and cosmology. I see textiles as carriers of both tangible and symbolic meaning. The layering of materials in my work mirrors the layering of histories—revealing and concealing, encoding and unraveling.
The Awassi sheep itself is an ancient symbol, a protagonist in Abrahamic narratives and sacrificial rites. Its wool is not just fiber but a material imbued with mythological weight.
٨. How has your experience living in Beirut influenced your artistic practice and perspective on cultural landscapes?
Beirut is a city of complexities—where past and present, memory and erasure, tradition and reinvention coexist. Living here has sharpened my awareness of how material culture is shaped by political and social dynamics. Textiles in this region are deeply connected to displacement, migration, and survival.
Every fiber, every technique holds a history of movement and adaptation. This understanding has deepened my commitment to working with materials that are themselves in flux—discarded, transformed, or repurposed.
In many ways, Beirut has taught me that textile is never neutral.
٩. With exhibitions spanning across the globe—from Sharjah to Seoul—what have been some key takeaways from sharing your work internationally?
Exhibiting internationally has revealed the universality of textile narratives. While materials and techniques vary, the fundamental gestures of weaving, spinning, and felting are shared across cultures. These tactile languages transcend linguistic barriers, allowing for nuanced exchanges between traditions.
At the same time, each exhibition context brings a new set of interpretations. These variations enrich the work, allowing it to exist in multiple, overlapping conversations.
١٠. Looking ahead, how do you envision your practice evolving, and what new dialogues do you hope to inspire with your art?
I see my practice continuing to expand across disciplines—textiles, performance, and research intertwining in new ways. I am particularly interested in exploring textile processes as performative acts. Ultimately, I hope my work continues to challenge the hierarchies of art, labor, and materiality—foregrounding fiber as both an ancient practice and a site of future speculation.
Adrian Pepe will be featured at Art Dubai (16–20 April) with NIKA Project Space, presenting intricate textile works that explore ancestral felting techniques and the fragility of existence. His solo exhibition A Shroud is a Cloth is also on view at NIKA’s Dubai gallery until 17 May, with a special tour led by the artist during a cocktail reception on 15 April from 6–9 PM.
