A text
becomes
a kilim.
Every word a motif. Every line a row. Every stanza a band. Paste a poem, a song, a letter, and see its shape woven, the same way every time.
Tap any motif and its word appears.
A chorus is the same band, twice. A name is one shape threading through the whole cloth. You can see the structure of a text before you have read a word of it.
How it
works
no exceptions
the draft — what a mill receives
Every word is a motif
Twenty skeletons from the kilim vocabulary — the eye, the ram’s horn, the hands on hips, the tree of life — assembled from stepped parts, quiet or bold as the word’s own seed decides. The same word is the same shape, in every piece, forever. The small words between them become the marks in the ground.
Lines are rows, stanzas are bands
Each line of text is one row of motifs, centred the way a kilim is. Each stanza is a band with a guard stripe between. Short lines make narrow rows, long lines wide ones — the poem’s own shape is in the cloth. Or let the words run on as one packed field.
The file a mill weaves from
Underneath the threads is a draft: one cell per end and pick, one of a few natural dyes, and no vertical seam longer than six picks — the rule that makes slit-weave possible. Download it and it is exactly what a jacquard mill takes.
The same text, as a print.
Every content word draws an element — a bloom, a leaf, a lozenge — and the text picks the colourway and the repeat. The tile is seamless by construction. Take it as a 300 dpi PNG or an SVG.
Pieces
all pieces
