What This Interview with Le Parisien Taught Me About Hairwork
A few days ago, I had the pleasure of welcoming a journalist from Le Parisien to my workshop in Rambouillet for an interview about hairwork, and about my own practice working with both human and animal hair.
As our conversation unfolded, I found myself struck by a realization that, although I had long been aware of it, suddenly felt far more tangible: the art of hairwork has almost entirely disappeared from our collective memory.
A century and a half ago, it stood at the height of its popularity. Today, very few people are even aware that such a craft ever existed.
That conversation became something of a turning point for me. It strengthened my conviction that this remarkable, almost forgotten art deserves not only to be preserved and better understood, but also to find its place once again within the contemporary world.
To speak meaningfully about my own work, I felt it was essential to return to the very origins of hairwork itself.
Although its greatest flourishing took place between the 18th and 19th centuries, traces of similar practices can already be found much earlier. During the Middle Ages, for example, mourning jewelry incorporating hair was already part of certain funerary traditions.
One of the aspects I enjoyed most during the interview was explaining what hairwork truly encompasses: its history, its evolution, and the remarkable diversity of historical techniques that developed over the centuries.
It also felt important to dispel one of the most persistent misconceptions surrounding hairwork.
Hairwork was not created solely as mourning art.
Quite the opposite.
It often celebrated life.
Locks of hair were exchanged between lovers as tokens of affection, woven into keepsakes celebrating friendship, or incorporated into symbolic family trees representing several generations. Wedding gifts sometimes combined the hair of both spouses, worked in a frame, while religious professions were frequently commemorated through hairwork, allowing families to preserve a tangible remembrance of a daughter before she entered a convent and received the ceremonial haircut marking her departure from secular life.
I have always been fascinated by the way our relationship with objects can change over time.
A craft once considered refined and fashionable, commissioned by both the highest circles of the aristocracy and the growing bourgeoisie, can disappear within only a few generations until it is almost entirely forgotten.
Our perception of hair itself has changed profoundly.
Once cut, it is now rarely seen as a meaningful material worthy of artistic expression.
Perhaps this explains why so few hairwork frames, jewelry pieces and decorative objects have found their way into museum collections today.
For me, preserving this knowledge is therefore about much more than safeguarding historical techniques.
It is about ensuring that a fragment of our cultural heritage remains alive.
From there, my passion for creating hairwork has gradually evolved into something broader: a deep desire to share the history, richness and diversity of this forgotten art, whether through frames, jewellery or decorative objects.
Even the vocabulary surrounding this practice has largely disappeared, particularly in French. One of my ambitions is therefore to recover these historical terms, revive them whenever possible, and, where necessary, develop new terminology capable of distinguishing the many techniques and families of techniques that exist within hairwork.
The extraordinary variety of forms this craft can take continues to surprise me, and I hope to help bring that diversity back into the light while reviving the memory that surrounds it.
To discover hairwork is to step into a forgotten world.
A world filled not only with remarkable techniques, but also with the intimacy of those who came before us: their relationships, their lives, and the society in which they lived.
One aspect I had perhaps anticipated less, and which has become one of the greatest rewards of my work, is the opportunity to meet people through deeply meaningful conversations. Every article and commission become an exchange. Every story entrusted to me is unique. Through these encounters, I have the privilege of sharing this remarkable craft while anchoring it within the present day through contemporary creations.
For that reason, I remain committed to expanding and enriching this body of knowledge, so that the practice of hairwork does not disappear into the depths of history.
Every article.
Every conversation.
Every commission.
Each one becomes another bridge between the past and the present.
I would once again like to thank Le Parisien (Yvelines edition), and especially Jeanne Mathevet, for giving me the opportunity to introduce both my work and this extraordinary, little-known craft to a wider audience.
You can read the original article published by Le Parisien here.
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