A performance, sculpture, and text, presented as a gesture of gratitude for 4 months spent at Cortex Frontal Artist Residency in Arraiolos, Portugal and my personal journey of finding home. Tijolo (bricks), Portuguese wool knit into thread, Arraiolos Tapestry Stitch 2025 TIJOLO Shany M Cohen I come from an ancestral line of refugees and immigrants—a lineage defined by the endless search for home, or perhaps the constant rebuilding of it. After seven years of imagining, I made my move this year: to build the life I want to live. I chose Portugal for its people, its culture, its nature and, because hundreds of years ago, part of my ancestors lived on this land too. I am not a performer by practice, usually I am behind the scenes dressing performers. And yet, here today I choose to expose myself, my process, my being. After spending almost a third of my year in Arraiolos this performance is an offering of gratitude. The day I first traveled to Arraiolos, I photographed a stack of tijolo in Covilhã and from that moment they have followed me, appearing in shadows, random spaces and through my window view, a constant reminder. Over the past few months I started to collect the tijolo, in Evora , Monte Mor, and here in Arraiolos, some were even brought to me. For months I have been knitting mostly in silence contemplating home and belonging, my ancestors and this cycle of movement. In the presence of the terracotta bricks, foundational to Portuguese architecture, used for walls, as doorstops, or fences; strong forms whether alone or in company. In this performance with a single continuous yarn of Portuguese wool from Serra de Estrella, I knit the thread which embroiders the bricks into connection, using the traditional Arraiolos stitch. One row at a time. A monotonous, lengthy process. Sometimes there is a knot, a tangle, a snap—moments to pause and reassemble. As the thread slowly grows a snake forms below. Each meter of yarn is threaded into another square of the brick, creating another cross, another stitch, slowly connecting the tijolo—the foundation. Row by row, meter by meter, I build the form for this next stage in a life of wandering. A cycle of building home in hope of stability. This time, perhaps, a bit less fleeting.