Jack Rose

I’ve always had a hard time with the idea of rest. As I child, I was constantly doing whatever I could to keep my hands busy. It’s almost as if a voice in the back of my head was constantly repeating “do something, make something.” First, it was origami birds and paper planes (hundreds of the things), then more complex paper domes and other structures. Eventually, I got my hands on a potholder loom and some cotton loops, and my life hasn't been the same ever since. I had found something that kept my hands busy, was a creative outlet, and produced a tactilely stimulating, visually interesting product; it was a triple win for both me and my mother, who was almost certainly exhausted from constantly trying to entertain her perpetually bored nine-year-old.

As I started to exhaust the creative potential of potholder weaving (which, while finite, is surprisingly vast), I decided that I wanted to play the cello. Believe it or not, the same type of person who feels compelled to make hundreds of woven potholders for entertainment is well suited to a life in classical music. The idea of constant repetition in practicing and slow progress scares many people away from music, but that was exactly the kind of stimulation my brain needed.

Currently, I am pursuing degrees in textile design and cello performance — all these years later — with happy, busy hands.