RL 203 - The Magic Carpet

Black Friday in Canada wasn’t always about buying Christmas gifts or deals on electronics. It had been the name given to February 20, 1959, the day Prime Minister John Diefenbaker officially cancelled one of the most ambitious and technologically advanced fighter aircraft programs in Canadian history: the Avro Arrow.

After only four years of production, these iconic Cold War aircraft were unveiled to the public as part of a North American defence strategy against the Soviet Union. In these years of the space race, the Arrow offered hope and showcased Canadian ingenuity on a global stage.

Although the aircraft were packed with cutting-edge technology, arguably the most advanced of their time, they logged very few flying hours and never saw active duty. Political pressure ultimately deemed the program too costly, and the planes were dismantled. Still, despite their short lifespan, the Avro Arrow continues to inspire a deep sense of pride in many Canadians. Why do these planes have such a devoted following? And what is it about these jet fighters that made me care enough to pour hundreds of hours into creating a rug based on these war machines?

At its core, the Arrow was an elegant solution to the anxieties of the Cold War. It could travel far and fast, and its adaptability allowed it to function as a long-range reconnaissance aircraft or a bomber. There were even plans for launching it like a rocket and interceptor variants. This flexibility extended to its “production tooling” development model, which relied on extensive component testing before full aircraft assembly in multiples. It’s no exaggeration to say the Arrow helped pave the way to the moon; after the program was scrapped, several of its designers went on to work on the Apollo missions. So it was pretty cool technology, but something still didn't sit right with me about doing such a direct homage to a real-life military aircraft.

The beginning of my RL 203 rug existed as an idea long before it existed as an object. Inspired by the Arrow's clean delta-wing form, unobstructed lines, and restrained colour palette, I knew it would make an aesthetically pleasing work. The elegance of the simple triangular paint lines on the wings—especially against white, punctuated by flashes of dayglo orange provided the underlying ideas for the rug. I sketched out a few versions and from that point on, I began searching for the rare orange wool that would be crucial, while also accumulating the large supply of white that I knew it would require. A few years later, I finally found the dayglo orange sweater that kicked my plan into action.

After stretching and prepping the burlap, I started the rug by laying down the orange accents and black lines. Working my way into the white background, my thoughts wandered. I was excited to be finally realizing this idea, but I got stuck considering the fact that the Arrows were machines built for war. I wondered if I was simply glorifying the technology of violence? This stopped me cold. Even with years of anticipation, all the materials finally in hand and time to make it, I was stuck. How would you hook your way out of a values-based ethics problem?

To move forward, I had to examine my own fascination with the Arrow.

I wouldn’t call myself an aircraft buff, but I know a little about the Enola Gay, the Red Baron’s Fokker, the Silver Dart, and a handful of other famous planes. These aircraft are remembered for what they did; sometimes terrible, deadly missions; others for more peaceful achievements. When I asked myself what the Arrow actually did, the answer surprised me. Unlike so many others, these exquisitely designed machines—built to become weapons—never killed a single soul. The Arrow was so great precisely because it never fought. As someone who values peace, I had finally found my footing. With that realization, I returned to the rug with renewed clarity and purpose.

This is a large rug, (70" x 28") that hides a few secrets. Faced with so much area, I decided to have a little fun. Instead of filling in the white/off-white background uniformly, I chose to embed a riddle into the rug itself. I hooked a single, secret word into the burlap. By alternating the grain of the hooked loops and choosing an uncommon font, I hid the word in plain sight, then worked furiously around it until it disappeared into the background before anyone else would see it. Within a week, it was fully camouflaged. At the time of writing, only my son Ezra and I know what it says, but someone patient and curious enough, just might be able to find it. The other magic in this particular carpet lies in the conditions of its construction. While building it, I was lucky enough to escape the city on two separate paddling trips out of the city, under full moons. These trips, taken in other iconic Canadian vehicles (canoe and kayak) were the type of journeys where one travels when conditions are right. You eat when hungry, rest when tired, paddle when its calm unbeholden to daylight hours, or 9-5 schedule. In fact, much of this rug was hooked at night using the light of a full moon lording over mountains, reflecting off the lake. One full moon is impressive, but two full moons are completely magical. This rug has good vibes.