Welcome to Weaving
I don’t know whether a path in life is so much something that you spend time hacking out of the wild, as it is something that already exists in a form for us to discover. My own experience in weaving seems to be one that is reflected by some sort of preexisting path that, whenever I happen across it and decide to follow it, my daily life is much easier. The first time I recognized weaving as this kind of path for me, I was about three years old. My entire family went to visit one of my father’s aunts. My two sisters and I, being a bit bored with the adults, decided to explore inside the house. Down the hall, in the first bedroom on the right, we encountered this strange hulking wooden contraption. None of us could name this machine; but whereas this mass of levers and frames meant nothing to my sisters—in fact, they were a little frightened of it—I knew this was something for me.
Neither knowing nor caring what this boxy shape of wood was, my sisters slowly drifted out of the room, on to something else that would hold their attention. I lingered—my first cathedral. I reached out and touched it, as if feeling it would give me an answer. Awe and reverence are what I felt, if a child can truly feel those things. Later, someone explained that it was a loom and that my aunt made cloth on it. Apparently that was all I needed, because the memory stops there.
Some twenty years later, a high school friend took me to a great yarn shop in Albuquerque (Village Wools, for the curious, and yes, it’s still there). Even though it was an errand for her, I was in no hurry to leave. Everything looked lush and inviting. I picked up a book on Navajo weaving—instructional, simple, elegant, clearly written. The book, Working with the Wool, by Noël Bennett and Tiana Bighorse, shows how to build a basic frame loom, and weave a simple first project.
The book sat on a shelf for about five years before I heard it calling to me again. I have never seen myself as mechanically minded; but everything in the book was spelled out so basically, I thought that even I could do it. Off to the hardware store I went, with supply list in hand. Then, surprisingly enough, I went home and assembled this pile of wood and hardware into a functional loom.
Living in southern California at the time—where distance is time—the closest place I found that had the yarn I would need was two to three hours away. Choosing color and texture over the phone? Clearly I would hand pick the yarn to use. With another list of supplies, I was in the car, driving to Casa de las Tejedoras (House of the Weavers). An experienced and reassuring woman helped me choose the exact yarns and all the tools I would need for this first project.
One thing I had read about the Navajo style of weaving is that the finished cloth is so tight it can hold water (and is therefore also a good repellent) if done well. Not that my piece—an 11” x 22” rectangle—will ever need to, but when I tested it, it held water. My first project was a rousing success as far as I was concerned. Elated that something so amazing had happened through my hands, I showed it to everyone I knew. Now it decorates the back of the chair in which I’m currently writing. Exhilarated by my success, I designed and built a loom large enough to weave a rug eight feet wide. Before I used that loom I moved to Seattle, where I concentrated on a series of life changes. Weaving was suspended this time for about two years.
Five years ago, my then partner became interested in weaving. Together we took an eight-week class that introduced us both to the more European style of weaving; and since that time I haven't stopped. Without a map, it took time to recognize that I was on a path, one that is so very clearly mine. But once discovered, I've found that a path is something easier to stay on than to leave.
Welcome to weaving.
Note: Working with the Wool by Noël Bennett and Tiana Bighorse, and its sequel book, Designing with the Wool, are now being published in one volume as The Navajo Way.
© 2004 Khris Fruits
First published in The Polishing Stone, Issue #1, April 2004.
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