In the midst of these musings, I read about Irvin Trujillo's latest Best in Show weaving at Santa Fe's annual Spanish Market. The piece is entitled Pensando en el Cajon or Thinking in the Box. As you would expect from Irvin, the piece was breathtakingly complex and exquisitely crafted. His words quoted in the Santa Fe New Mexican newspaper article caught my attention:
"Irvin Trujillo, in discussing his winning piece, explained that while most artists are told to think outside the box, his weaving explores the concept of the box by going back to traditional roots.
'The box hasn't been defined yet,' he said of his textile, which took eight months to create. 'So we have to figure out the box before going outside.'"
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| Irvin Trujillo of La Centinela Weavers in Chimayo, NM, describes his winning piece to Barbara Crowley of Maine at the preview for Spanish Market. Photo by Luis Sanchez Saturno of The New Mexican |
Wow! Irvin comes from seven generations of Rio Grande weavers, and he feels the box hasn't been defined yet! I am going to ponder that thought for quite a while. Irvin's words, and even more, his stunning weaving, confirm that there is still plenty to be discovered and achieved inside the traditional box of weft-faced weaving, and within the various traditions within the tapestry field (Rio Grande, French, Navajo and others. . .). Treat yourself and hop over HERE to see some of Irvin's work. And of course the art of many other contemporary tapestry weavers who work within the parameters of pure tapestry also affirms this. For proof of this, look no further than the member artists of the American Tapestry Alliance.
Many of us have discovered that working within limits can be paradoxically freeing and actually lead us to find new solutions for creative problems. On the most basic level, if you've ever run out of a particular type or color of irreplaceable yarn before you've finished weaving, you know what I mean. You have to find new solutions within the parameters you're working in, and often those solutions make for a more interesting piece in the end.
So, where does that leave me (and maybe you?), a contemporary weaver, excited by the modern anything-goes approach yet impressed and informed by what is possible in the traditional manner?
Darned if I know! I'm headed back to the studio to see if I can find out where my work lies in relation to the box. . . . Meanwhile, let me know in the comments--is your work inside the box? Outside? How does your conception of your relation to the box inform your work?
2 comments:
This really brought up a lot of thoughts, as well as, memories for me and kept me thinking through the weekend. I love traditional weaving, yet I was raised by a very untraditional mother who taught me, as a child, to weave on a frame using anything that caught my eye for weft. I began weaving as an adult in the late 60s and early 70s in a university program where weaving was an art media. It was an amazing time to be a weaver and I still cherish those days. This makes me a product of what I guess would be called outside-the-box weaving. So, in an odd twist, I find weaving within a tradition, such as tapestry or pattern weaving, as, well, rather rebellious. What's even stranger, to me, is that here I am, 40 years later, learning a new technique of weaving, tapestry, and so much of the conversation is exactly the conversation I was a part of in my early days of weaving at the university: to reject or embrace tradition; what can a loom do on its own, without the weavers' preconceived ideas; does a weaving need to be art, or is it craft? And some weavers seem to be shocked at the very notion of the weft not covering the warp, or actually traipsing across the surface irrespective of the warp. This is exactly what those of us approaching weaving as an art media heard from more traditional weavers in the 70s. I guess the answer, for me, is that I am an artist who uses weaving as her media, at the same time I am dedicated to the craft and tradition of weaving. I know that I love to see traditional weaving, but doing it does not appeal to me. I honor the traditions, and especially the mothers, of weaving, but I weave in the present, in deep response to the world I live in. I know that weaving, for me, is a spiritual path, rather than commercial, although I'm certainly not against selling something. Bottom line, I guess, is that this is one of those questions that pulls us forward in our lives through our art. It's a journey I'm glad to be on. Thanks for raising the question.
Thank you for your thoughtful reply, Linda. It’s interesting to hear about your experiences learning to weave in the 60s and 70s, and how that experience makes learning traditional tapestry a kind of rebellion! Our ongoing struggle to weave in response to the present world is what keeps weaving a contemporary art form. And I agree that even when we seek to sell our work, it is ultimately a quixotic spiritual path and choice to weave at all. Thanks so much for your thoughts.
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