How amazing that we can take something as simple as cloth and create entire economies with it. This fact can be applied all over the world. The Incas, the Chinese, the Indians, and North American West Coast Aboriginal people valued cloth more than many other riches. My family were once sheep ranchers near Pendleton, Oregon and my husband's family were once mill owners in Howarth, England and dependant on cloth production for their livelihood.
Yesterday I opened the door of my studio and the winter sun enhanced the beautiful wood of my studio mate Jay's spinning wheel. I love spinning wheels and looms and am always moved by the history and ancient technology required in making one. I love the rythym and music the spinning wheel makes . There is nothing like homespun yarn for texture and touch.
The truth is harder to admit. I love everything surrounding weaving and when first studying textiles fantasized my immersion in the craft. The truth is, however, that Ghandi makes me crazy and I hate to weave. My entire body knots itself up when I do it. My fingers are double jointed and they slip out of place, my back goes out, my legs cramp up something fierce. I can't tell you what it is like string the heddles with an astigmatism and how there is always one thread out of place. I look at Ghandi's serene face and I feel tormented, I hide his images.
When Ghandi used weaving as a politicl act to reclaim the Indian right to produce cotton for export and personal use, my great grandmother was raising lambs in the harsh prairie climate near Trochu, Alberta. She was well read and I can't help wonder what she thought. Her family had been caught in the cattle sheep wars in America. Sheep Creek and Sheep River in Alberta were named after my families sheep. She gave me a gift of two lambs when I was a child. Lolly and Lollipop. She wrote me telling me of their progress. I cuddled under a very old cotton quilt with a felted lambs wool batting when I was a child. I know where the lamb batt came from but where did the cotton come from?
Perhaps the cotton was woven in one of my husband's great grandfather's mills or from India? It looks like it might be a faded Indian Madras cotton with a looser homespun weave. If it was woven in Northern England in my husbands great grandfather's mill I have no doubt what they thought of Ghandi. They relied on cheap cotton for their wealth. Did they also rely on cheap wool? If the size of their homes in Howarth is any indication they may have helped fund the fight against what Ghandi was trying to do.
It is suprising how often we repeat family history. I may love what Ghandi did as a man but I can't weave or spin to save my life. I am a textile artist and I rely on the weaving others do to produce my product. I support the work of the Maiwa Foundation to help women doing traditional textile craft in India and buy fair trade cotton and goods. I also buy cheap polyester to create my textured pieces but don't always know where it is made. Oh and some of the little bit of mill money my husband's mother left helped buy the house that contains my textile art.
Yesterday I opened the door of my studio and the winter sun enhanced the beautiful wood of my studio mate Jay's spinning wheel. I love spinning wheels and looms and am always moved by the history and ancient technology required in making one. I love the rythym and music the spinning wheel makes . There is nothing like homespun yarn for texture and touch.
The truth is harder to admit. I love everything surrounding weaving and when first studying textiles fantasized my immersion in the craft. The truth is, however, that Ghandi makes me crazy and I hate to weave. My entire body knots itself up when I do it. My fingers are double jointed and they slip out of place, my back goes out, my legs cramp up something fierce. I can't tell you what it is like string the heddles with an astigmatism and how there is always one thread out of place. I look at Ghandi's serene face and I feel tormented, I hide his images.
When Ghandi used weaving as a politicl act to reclaim the Indian right to produce cotton for export and personal use, my great grandmother was raising lambs in the harsh prairie climate near Trochu, Alberta. She was well read and I can't help wonder what she thought. Her family had been caught in the cattle sheep wars in America. Sheep Creek and Sheep River in Alberta were named after my families sheep. She gave me a gift of two lambs when I was a child. Lolly and Lollipop. She wrote me telling me of their progress. I cuddled under a very old cotton quilt with a felted lambs wool batting when I was a child. I know where the lamb batt came from but where did the cotton come from?
Perhaps the cotton was woven in one of my husband's great grandfather's mills or from India? It looks like it might be a faded Indian Madras cotton with a looser homespun weave. If it was woven in Northern England in my husbands great grandfather's mill I have no doubt what they thought of Ghandi. They relied on cheap cotton for their wealth. Did they also rely on cheap wool? If the size of their homes in Howarth is any indication they may have helped fund the fight against what Ghandi was trying to do.
It is suprising how often we repeat family history. I may love what Ghandi did as a man but I can't weave or spin to save my life. I am a textile artist and I rely on the weaving others do to produce my product. I support the work of the Maiwa Foundation to help women doing traditional textile craft in India and buy fair trade cotton and goods. I also buy cheap polyester to create my textured pieces but don't always know where it is made. Oh and some of the little bit of mill money my husband's mother left helped buy the house that contains my textile art.
1 comment:
Hello Material Witness,
Thank you for your views about Ghandi and weaving. I myself am a weaving teacher in Toronto (for adults) and am presently trying to wrestle with how best to encourage those who are discouraged by their attempts at weaving. I will make sure i send them the info to your blog. In the meantime, my website is www.tapestryline.com and email is tapestryline@sympatico.ca. Until the next time, Line (pronounced Leen in french and Lin in english!)
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