The Story Behind the Artist

The Other Voice: When did you first begin making things?

Gelme: Very early. I knitted my first vest when I was six. My grandmother taught me to knit and crochet, and then, when I was around ten, my mother taught me to sew.

I loved all of it. I grew up in the former Soviet Union, where everything felt very old-fashioned, and I wanted to be different. When I was a teenager, I would make myself a new outfit almost every week to wear when I went out. I wore my creations, and everyone looked at me on the street.

The Other Voice: So making clothes was never only a practical skill for you. It became a way to express your individuality.

Gelme: Yes, I liked wearing something different from everyone else.

The Other Voice: You were not following fashion. You were creating your own. That desire to make something distinctive appeared long before you discovered felting.

There also seems to be a natural progression in the materials you chose. First you knitted, then you sewed, and years later you found felting. Each medium offered a different kind of freedom.

But why did your work move toward elegance? Many fiber artists are drawn to rustic, bohemian, or whimsical styles, while you consistently create work that is refined, feminine, and intricate. Do you know where that began?

Gelme: I have very feminine energy. I love being a woman. I was never a tomboy, and I never wanted to be a man. I have always liked delicate, intricate things.

When I was around eleven, my father took me to what was then Leningrad. We visited the Hermitage Museum, and I looked at all those intricate garments from the time of the Russian tsars. I kept wondering, How did they make this?

The Other Voice: That question says something fundamental about you. You did not only see beautiful clothing—you noticed the craftsmanship behind it.

You were not standing there thinking, I wish I owned that. You were asking, How did human hands make it? That is the mind of a maker.

Looking at these memories together, a continuous thread begins to appear. At six, you were knitting. At ten, you learned to sew. At eleven, you stood in the Hermitage wondering how extraordinary garments were created. As a teenager, you designed outfits instead of wearing what everyone else wore. Then, years later, you found felting—a medium that gave you even greater freedom to create your own forms, textures, and details.

These are not separate stories. They are different stages of the same creative journey.

Perhaps that is also why elegance, in your work, does not feel like decoration added at the end. It begins with the materials, the craftsmanship, and the care hidden inside each piece. The finished work may look effortless, but behind it are years of curiosity and the same question you asked as a child:

How can I make this?