Natural Fiber Weaving

Finding a Relationship To Place Through Natural Fiber Weaving

For many the written word has become the primary currency for the procurement of knowledge. But for others, like myself, it is experience and the personal relationships formed with mentors and guides that provide meaningful connections for learning. Somewhere between the hands and mind, the heart is found. It is here where true discovery and learning occurs, and the doorway to inquiry is unlocked.

handwoven basket

Stepping through this doorway, I've become a natural fiber weaver, artist, and teacher. The solitude of creating in my studio is balanced by using weaving as a vehicle for working with children and adults on exciting ecological and community projects.

The words of Professor Nancy J. Turner echo what I have found to be true: "The most important legacy of the basket weavers, carvers and workers in plant materials…is not in written words, but in their hands-on teachings, especially among their own families and communities." (9)

I've drawn upon the extensive ethnobotanical studies of Otis Tufton Mason, Erna Gunther, Dr. Nancy J.Turner, and personal conversations and study with master weavers from the Suquamish, Lummi, Quinalt, Skokomish, S'Klallam, Chehalis, Haida, and Makah Nations. The mission of my work has become like the process of making a basket. First, to respectfully gather the available traditional plant fiber knowledge; then, to weave or create lessons in natural fiber weaving that can teach a connection to place.

Ruth Kirk describes the foundation of natural fiber weaving: "Basketry materials come only from certain places, at certain times of the year. Such knowledge, as well as gathering and processing techniques, is as essential to continuation of the art as is that of weaving itself." (102)

As an instructor, I feel compelled to teach the two important concepts that the practice of natural fiber weaving has taught me. One concept is that the native materials are essential to the craft. In every season, there is an important sequence of events involving the need to recognize certain plants, collect their useful parts, prepare, dry, and store those materials. Only then is it time to learn the techniques for using those materials.

The second concept, in my case, is that this information belongs to the traditional cultures of the Northwest, and should not be taught without acknowledgement of this ownership. This knowledge is termed: "Traditional Ecological Knowledge" by Dr. Nancy J. Turner and "…..the philosophies and world views represented by this…. are as important now as at any time in the past." (11)

This experiential knowledge of the land and sky, the plants and animals, the weather patterns, geography, and cycles of marine life, forms the pool from which the traditional technologies were born. These practices relate to medicine, cooking, carving, building, seafaring, basketry, fiberwork, food preservation, hunting and fishing, and are material in nature. They can be taught barren of all the cultural richness from which they came. But a skill taught in context can be life changing. The traditional mythology, history stories, social and religious practices, and cultural values passed on orally from generation to generation are directly linked to place.

Natural fiber weaving has awakened in me a link to the past. I know very little of my own Sami ancestors' nomadic existence, how for thousands of years they have followed herds of reindeer through polar tundra in the extremes of sunlight and darkness. Yet as I split the roots and limbs of trees whose predecessors have existed in this place, I feel a bond with those people of ancient times who lived and worked with these same materials. With that bond comes the deepening concern that our Pacific Northwest resources be preserved, to be appreciated and utilized by future generations.

During a recent Artist-in-Residence at IslandWood, I taught a shy group of twelve fourth graders about local plants used in traditional fiber technology. I showed them an uprooted Western red cedar sapling, letting them touch and smell it. They helped me tell its story from seed to birth, and were able to point out all the various parts of this baby tree, its roots, bark, branches, leaves, and potential for seed. We stepped just outside the Art Studio door, where century-old cedars sheltered us from the rain. I explained where the inner bark for weaving comes from as we planted the tiny tree beneath this grove.

In small teams the students researched one plant used in traditional fiber work. Providing samples of the plant and a list of questions about the plants characteristics and ethnobotanical uses, along with reference books and materials, the students created a poster to be presented before the whole student body, highlighting the information they found. I wanted them to talk to each other and come up with their own nickname for the plant, a mnemonic name, such as "Tall Green Hot Dog Grass," for cattail.

The students split layers of inner cedar bark for their project, a necklace, and lashed those pieces onto small twigs that already had the necklace cords attached. The twigs served as simple looms and the kids learned two weaving techniques, basic over and under weaving, and twining.

The necklaces were mounted on colorful papers and placed in the Art Studio gallery. Here the students could view their creations in a different light, as part of a whole body of work that demonstrated their new-found knowledge.

During our last fifteen minutes together, each group got up with posters in hand and shared a little about their Northwest material, including the new "nickname." On their last evening as guests at IslandWood, these timid urban kids were able to get up in front of an audience of their teachers and 80 peers and present their research as part of a fireside program. This demonstrated a degree of comfort and confidence, which I believe is essential to learning.

See a sample lesson plan from the IslandWood artist in residence session

My experience has taught me that we are born with instincts and senses that help process information brought to us from our environments. In a healthy situation a natural learning progression results. My teaching style is to encourage this progression. Instinct - observation - imitation - innovation. We are born with instincts for survival. Our powers of observation begin in infancy as we collect the details of experience through all our developing senses. Constant imitation and practice result in the confidence necessary for independent thinking and innovation.

Every person living today is a descendant from some line of an ancient civilization of hunters and gatherers. As modern technologies affect our communities, life-styles and values, the practice of pre-historic technologies derived from Traditional Ecological Knowledge is essential to understanding our connection to place.

It is my hope that teaching the discipline of natural fiber weaving can ultimately serve to strengthen each student's own cultural awareness, appreciation and pride. Hands-on natural fiber projects derived from the local traditional cultures and native plants of any given area of the world, can open a doorway to place, providing new skills for expressing a relationship to the land.

References

Carriere, Ed. Personal interview. 9 June. 1996.

Kirk, Ruth. Tradition And Change On The Northwest Coast. Seattle: UW Press, 1986.

Turner, Dr. Nancy J. Plant Technology Of The First Peoples In British Columbia. Vancouver: UBC Press, 1998.

About the author

Melinda West

Melinda West lives with her family in Indianola, Washington. Since 1985 she has studied with many weavers and artists, the foremost being Ed Carriere, of the Suquamish Tribe. She teaches throughout the Northwest.

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