By Shamsiya Hussainpoor
Upwey textile artist Natasja van Wyk has spent years stitching red thread through fabric – not just as a form of art, but as a way of surviving. Now, her work has found a powerful public voice in ‘Threads of Violence’, a raw and deeply moving exhibition on display at The Memo in Healesville from Thursday, 17 April to Sunday, 6 July, 2025.
Using torn red cloth, delicate stitching, and unspoken memory, Ms Van Wyk’s work invites viewers into a space of vulnerability and reflection. But behind the striking visuals, lies something much more intimate – the lived experience of trauma, grief, and the slow, quiet process of healing.
“This started as something very private,” Ms Van Wyk said.
“I didn’t set out to make an exhibition. I was just trying to make sense of what was living in my body.”
Much of the work was born out of Ms Van Wyk’s early life in South Africa, where she grew up amid instability and violence. But one moment, in particular, marked her deeply: the loss of her brother during a violent robbery in July, 2024.
“He was shot while trying to protect someone else,” she said.
“He was my big brother. My anchor. After he died, no one in my family really knew how to speak about it. So we didn’t.”
The silence of grief and survivor’s guilt never truly left her – it settled deep in her bones, quiet but unrelenting. In the stillness of a new country, that silence resurfaced with sudden force, awakened by the news of her brother.
It pulled back the veil on everything she had tried to outrun in South Africa: the fear, the violence, the unspoken traumas that had never found a voice. In that moment, the past and present collapsed into each other, and the weight of what was lost became impossible to ignore.
It was only when she picked up a needle that the memories began to take shape. Stitch by stitch, the fabric became a place to pour what words couldn’t hold – a way to survive when silence threatened to consume her.
“Sewing gave me time. Space. It was slow, and quiet, and I could sit with what I was feeling without having to explain it,” she said.
“Every stitch became a sentence I couldn’t say out loud.”
One panel in the exhibition is dedicated to her brother. Made of dark red cloth, stitched roughly with jagged lines, it’s not pretty – and that’s the point.
“It’s not supposed to be tidy,” she said.
“Grief isn’t tidy. Trauma isn’t tidy. That piece holds the mess.”
The exhibition as a whole is stitched from similar pieces, fragments of red cloth, embroidered words, torn seams. Some panels whisper with sadness; others shout. All are part of a wider story – one that isn’t just Ms Van Wyk’s.
Alongside her solo work, Threads of Violence includes Threads of Connection – a growing, communal artwork that invites visitors to add their own fabric, messages, or stitching.
“People walk in thinking they’re just here to look,” Ms Van Wyk said.
“But then they read something that reminds them of their own story – and suddenly they’re stitching. Or crying. Or just sitting quietly, holding a piece of cloth in their hands.”
One visitor brought in part of an old uniform she wore during a violent relationship. Another stitched the name of a child she lost. Others contribute colours, patterns, or just a few quiet words. Each addition is woven into the larger tapestry.
“There’s no wrong way to participate, it doesn’t have to be ‘art.’ It just has to be honest,” she said.
The gallery space reflects that honesty. It’s warm and gentle, with chairs for people to rest, boxes of donated fabrics, and small bowls of thread and needles. It’s less of an art show, and more of a shared space for reflection.
Ms Van Wyk said the process of making, and sharing, has been unexpectedly healing – not just for her, but for the people who visit.
“I think we’re all carrying something,” she said.
“And we don’t always get the chance to speak about it. This exhibition gives people permission. It says, ‘Your pain matters. Your voice matters.’ Even if it’s only whispered through a needle.”
Despite the heavy themes, the exhibition is not without hope. In fact, hope is sewn through every single piece.
“It’s about survival,” Ms Van Wyk said.
“About what happens after the worst thing. And how we carry it. Not perfectly. Not bravely, always. But with care.”
For her, the work continues to evolve. She still stitches every day, still adds new pieces, still holds space for stories – her own and others’. And while her brother is gone, he is everywhere in the exhibition.
“He’s in every thread. Every moment of silence. Every act of courage I’ve taken to keep going,” she said.
“This is for him. And for anyone who’s ever had to find a way to keep living after everything has fallen apart.”
Threads of Violence is showing at The Memo in Healesville until Sunday, 6 July.
