The Brooklyn Rail

Tianxia, commonly translated as “all under heaven,” is an ancient Chinese philosophical concept of an interconnected, unified cosmos. While its interpretation has evolved over time, from a broad spatial abstraction to a controversial political ideology, at its core lies a vision of an all-encompassing, harmonious world, rooted in a literal translation of “beneath the sky.” I am reminded of this philosophy in thinking through Caroline Monnet’s solo exhibition, Where the Sky Begins, where a vast, celestial imagining of our collective wellbeing resonates throughout a presentation of textiles, works on paper, and sculptures.

Drawing from her heritage of Anishinaabe and French ancestry, Monnet’s practice is dedicated to communicating Indigenous identity, language, and narratives. A multidisciplinary artist and prolific filmmaker from the Outaouais region living and working in Mooniyang/Montreal, Monnet is committed to examining Canada’s colonial impact on ancestral lands, while exploring new methodologies for storytelling. In Where the Sky Begins, the wall-based textiles are largely defined by Monnet’s ingenious reappropriation of industrial construction materials—many of which are lacking, or often delayed in shipment to Indigenous communities, resulting in government-built housing of inferior quality.

Omisad (Belly) (2025), an embroidery on patched translucent polyethylene and pink mineral wool, introduces the exhibition. Made from common plastic used as vapor barriers and an inorganic insulation material, Omisad speaks directly to the manmade materials developed to separate—at once to protect, but also segregate—people and their natural surroundings, reflecting on our modernity’s changing relationship with land. The piece is embellished with colorful sewing of angular, geometric shapes, a design informed by traditional Anishinaabe motifs. Variations of it are seen across the textile works in distinct ways that come to denote Monnet’s visual language. Each work is uniquely mapped out using digital tools, and the artist’s interpretation represents an enduring and evolving visual culture. Here, it juxtaposes the numerical and alphabetical company-branded monotonous stamping on the polyethylene, deliberately left intact. The evocative title in the Anishinaabe language of Ojibwe, paired with the coloring of the encased blushed wool, suggests blood circulation and even life, where invaluable Indigenous knowledge is embodied.

Following Omisad is Pink Room 01 (2021), a photograph of a bedroom in Monnet’s mother’s house, located on an Indigenous reserve. The room is bare, with oversized black vertical blinds hanging starkly in front of a small square window, a jarring display in the feminine space marked by pink walls and a floral pillowcase. This dissonance alludes to the fact that the room came as is, haphazardly decorated. The pairing with Omisad is compelling, not just for the shared hues, but for the questions they both evoke: What constitutes a home beyond its structural shell? How are the materials in our houses used to frame domestic spaces for both physical and spiritual rest? These two works set the tone for Where the Sky Begins, while demonstrating Monnet’s acute attention to the fabrics making up our households.

Monnet experiments with a range of techniques to layer Anishinaabe designs in her textiles. Alongside embroidery, she uses screen-printing and laser cutting on building materials such as Tyvek, air filters, and underfloor Styrofoam. The symmetrical patterns of Wanagay (Écailles) [Variation 2] (2024) and Data 03 (2023) are built through cutting the materials, then interlacing them back together, highlighting their tactile qualities and the durability of the substrates. Their geometry nods to the intricate Anishnaabe craft tradition of birch bark biting, where parallel patterns are created on thin pieces of birch bark through teeth biting—a meticulous and meditative process. The construction material’s branding is deliberately incorporated into the compositions of both. In Wanagay, the black cross is formed through the arrangement of the polyethylene’s company logo, and in Data 03, patterned roof underlay and waterproofing membrane are layered to create depth. Unlike other of her textile pieces where the base material remains structurally unaltered, it’s unclear whether the substrates here could still serve their functional purpose, pointing to the question of reappropriation and recontextualization central to Monnet’s practice.

Monnet’s wearable sculptures further probe at notions of the home. With a focus on the body in her handmade outerwear, these “shells” are also made from building materials. The bold cape of Swaneige (2022) is created from the same insulation wool and polyethylene as Omisad. Monnet refers to these garments as “living sculptures,” meant to be worn and paired with unique bodysuits. Designed in colorful Anishinaabe patterns, it is a missed opportunity not to also display them, with only the shells hanging stiffly on lower-than-eye-level velvet mannequins. Photographs on the gallery website of models wearing the full sets help communicate and address this challenge of presenting sculptural clothing. The women stand confidently and defiantly, looking straight at the camera. The boundaries of the artificial fabrics that separate us from nature and the rest of the cosmos collapse when the body is dressed in these industrial materials. By challenging where the sky begins, Monnet insists that any answer must center the voices and experiences of Indigenous women.