Each of Knothouse's rugs is a visual text in itself. Knots become words and patterns become sentences. You can read your own patterns in them. They become immersion, sensual, tactile voyages of discovery in weaves and knots that invite reflection and interpretation. They are art that you can walk on, beautiful as poems, if you don't actually get the words of an author. The rhythm and grammar of a poem reason with the dance, structure and windings of the threads and are broken by the knot in the same way that the sentence ends with a period that interrupts a sequence. Text means: texture, as when the author William Heinesen writes: “The present is a weaver who draws her threads from eternity, the garment she weaves is the garment of life.”