MAKERS | EUROPE | ENGLAND | TEXTILES
Zena Holloway | Textile Artist

While most textile makers focus on warp and weft, Zena Holloway prefers roots and shoots. Grown from living wheatgrass and coaxed into intricate forms through hand-carved beeswax moulds, her remarkable creations transform an unseen subterranean world into lamps, vessels and sculptures that feel at once ancient, futuristic and entirely unlike anything else in contemporary craft.
How did you begin?
My background is in underwater photography. For over 20 years, I worked below the surface, capturing photographic editions and global campaigns for international clients. Over time, I witnessed a devastating shift in the health of the coral reefs and marine ecosystems and decided to change direction. This led me to explore bio-design and the incredible potential of root systems.
Was it something you always aspired to do, or a more serendipitous journey?
I never set out to be a bio-designer. The turning point came when I noticed the dense, intricate root structures of a willow tree growing by a riverbank and the remarkable lace-like root fibres they formed. I began experimenting with growing root structures in my studio. That was seven years ago.

© Alun Calendar
How did you learn?
I am entirely self-taught, both a photographer and a bio-designer. Growing textiles from living root systems is a relatively uncharted territory; there was no formal textbook or course to follow.
My training consisted of years of trial and error in my workshop. I had to learn the basics of botany, understand seed biology and figure out how to guide a living organism without killing it. It was a hands-on, deeply experimental process of learning by doing.
How do you plan, prepare, and create your works?
I begin by carving intricate templates out of beeswax, which dictate the final shape - whether it’s a garment, a vessel, or a geometric sculpture. I sow fast-growing seeds, primarily wheatgrass, into these moulds. Over about 12 days, the seeds germinate, and their roots navigate the carved channels of the beeswax. They bind together organically, weaving themselves into a dense, complex structure.
Once the root network has fully formed, I harvest the piece. I wash away the remaining seed and shoot, revealing a pure white, fabric-like material. Finally, the piece is dried and preserved. The technical challenge is providing the perfect balance of water and temperature so the roots grow uniformly.

© Alun Calendar
Who or what most influences your work?
The primary theme running through my work is bio-fabrication as a solution to the environmental crisis. I am influenced by the concept of the circular economy and the intelligence of natural systems. I want my pieces to look organic and alive, serving as a reminder that our material future could be grown and not manufactured or extracted.
What does a typical day look like?
I work out of my studio workshop, which functions as part-lab, part-art space. A typical day is dictated by the plants' life cycle. I spend mornings checking current growth cycles, monitoring moisture levels, assessing root density, and harvesting mature pieces. Afternoons are usually dedicated to office work.

© Alun Calendar
What are the best and worst things about being a craftsperson today?
Harvest days are easily the best part of my process. It’s the moment when the designs are revealed, and the greatest joy is in un-moulding a piece. Washing away the seed to reveal a perfectly formed, intricate root textile feels like witnessing a small miracle every single time.
The primary challenge is predictability. Because I work with living organisms, microclimates matter. A sudden drop in temperature or a slight shift in humidity can alter how the roots grow, meaning I have to constantly adapt to factors outside my control. The worst part is having to navigate a fast-moving commercial world with a novel, biological process.

© Alun Calendar
An object you’ll never part with?
My husband and I found a flint hagstone on Brighton beach. It’s the most perfect natural form and could have been sculpted by Henry Moore. It reminds me that humans don’t need to dominate materials; we simply need to look at how nature designs things efficiently and beautifully.
Interview by Emma Becque
Images from Alun Calendar