View from the Pier

Irvin Trujillo, 55, is a seventh generation Rio Grande weaver living in Chimayo, New Mexico. His work has evolved from the traditional styles of his forefathers; he uses design ideas from historic Rio Grande weavings of Northern New Mexico and adds his own aesthetic.

Irvin’s work has won numerous awards and is collected by museums across the country, including the Smithsonian. While visiting Santa Fe in March, I had admired several of his pieces featured at the Museum of International Folk Art, which were part of its exhibit of New Mexico “Masters” by the National Endowment for the Arts.

I later visited Irvin at Centinela Traditional Arts, a tapestry gallery he runs with his wife Lisa. We talked while he performed shuttle work on the standing Spanish loom. He spoke of the act of weaving as a journey and spiritual practice that creates a positive effect on mindfulness, perspective, and sense of balance.

I hope you enjoy this conversation with Irvin, which weaves together these themes, along with observations on Santa Fe’s colorful history.

Reyes Ortega 1910 - Photo used with permission from Irvin Tujillo

Irvin: In my grandmother’s family, the Ortegas, the earliest documented weaver was Nicholas Gabriel Ortega in 1729. This is the period when land grants were issued in what was then New Spain. The Plaza del Cerro here in Chimayo was one of the early family settlements of the Ortega family.

Weaving in my grandfather’s family started with Jose Conception Trujillo, a military officer, around 1775. He was granted land in the area called La Centinela (which means sentinel) just east of the Plaza del Cerro. This is where I live. The story is that Jose had six looms, and whether that’s true I don’t know. My grandfather, Isidoro Trujillo, was a weaver and a farmer. In the old days, he farmed during the summer and wove during the winter months. I have seen his work at my grandparents’ house.

My father was born in 1911, and he started weaving in 1925. A sixth-generation weaver, he learned from his mother, Maria Francisquita Ortega and his father Isidoro. He not only learned to weave, but he learned to take the weaving process from raising sheep to finished blanket. He built looms that we still use here in the shop. I have pieces from his weaving life about every decade, so I can document my father’s weaving history fairly closely.

I learned to weave when I was 10 years old. I learned from my father who was the master. I didn’t realize he was the master until I got older.

Meg: Can you explain a little bit about what the land grants were?

Irvin: The first expeditions here in New Mexico, as early as 1519, were by the Spanish who claimed land and established colonies. There was a Pueblo revolt in 1680 and the Pueblo Indians basically chased the Spanish back to the south. It wasn’t Mexico at that time, it was New Spain. So there were not many Spanish settlements here until there was a reconquest in 1692-93 by General Don Diego de Vargas, who established Santa Fe as the Capitol.

At that time, land grants started to be issued by the Spanish government–the leaders who established the settlements and were governors from Mexico City in the South. The land grants were issued to families coming from Mexico who sought land and a place to homestead.

Some of the land was given as payment for military protection of the plaza against Indian raids. The Plaza del Cerro is one of the earliest settlements in Chimayo. It was established by the Ortega family with structures forming a square plaza. There were only two entrances into the square allowing it to be blocked in case of Indian raids. There was farming inside the fortress-like square with grazing in the surrounding land. There were larger land grants given to allow the new Spanish colonists to graze their animals up in the sierra, or the mountains, during the summer months.

The earliest evidence I have seen showing Trujillo appearance in Chimayo is around 1775 from a document showing water right transfer to Jose Diego Trujillo. The water rights granted the use of the water from the mountain streams, supplied by the snow melt from the mountains. It was used to irrigate the farms–they were raising wheat, corn, beans, and other vegetables for food. The livestock provided meat.  New Mexico was great for grazing and the water and pastures were sources of sustenance for the Churro sheep, which were really adaptive to the habitat here. And now as you follow the tributaries in New Mexico, the Rio Grande, Rio Chama, and the Pecos River, you’ll find the sheep at the end of the tributary. They kept grazing until they got to the head waters.

When the United States took over in the 1840′s, they did not recognize a lot of these land grants. There has been rebellion as recently as the 1960′s as to the ownership of the land much of which the U.S.government basically took. So it’s still an issue now.

There is an issue regarding water right ownership, with the Native Americans claiming first right to the water, and there are legal battles.

Meg: Could you speak a little bit about the general history of weaving in New Mexico?

Irvin: It stems as far back as 1530′s when Churro sheep were introduced to the New World by the Spanish. Basically, there weren’t any sheep here in New Mexico, so the wool industry took a while to develop with establishment of the colonies and trade. The sheep were the main source of the meat that they needed for sustenance. The wool industry resulted because of the Churro sheep’s ability to thrive on the New Mexico landscape.

The floor loom was introduced by the Spanish. The Navajos learned how to work the wool from the Spanish and how to use the looms. The only weaving in New Mexico before the Spanish arrived was with cotton cultivated by the Pueblo Indians and yucca fiber. The Pueblo Indians were producing mantas, or wearing blankets, blankets with leather and rabbit skin, and shoes made with the yucca fiber.

In the 1700’s, there was more evidence of weavings in trade documents and wills. Sheep trade was located more in the Albuquerque area,

In 1807 there were two masters commissioned by the governor at the time to teach weaving and improve the formation of obrajes or workshops in Rio Arriba (upper river). The governor here in Santa Fe contracted two brothers for three years to improve the weaving industry. From the time Juan and Ignacio Bazan arrived here in 1807, a technique called tapestry showed up in the design work, which we use today in our weavings.

Trading of textiles out of Santa Fe goes back to the early 1700′s. By 1840, there are trade records showing 20,000 frasadas (blankets) departing from Santa Fe on the Camino Real arriving through Chihuahua and Durango into Mexico City. There are also records of about 10,000 pieces traded from northern New Mexico going to Los Angeles on the Old Spanish trail in the late 1838. They were trading weavings which were part of what they called Effectos de Pais, which were basically the products of the area.

In 1880, when the railroad came, tourists from Eastern United States started arriving into New Mexico on the railroad. By the late 1800′s, a curio industry developed along the railroad and in Santa Fe.

When the Americans came to New Mexico on the Santa Fe Trail, they introduced the first commercial mill spun yarn, some of which was already dyed with natural dyes. Later, imports from the US, included yarn dyed with the new “aniline dyes” and “packet dyes” which allowed weavers to apply new colors to their handspun wool. This changed the colors obtained from natural dyes such as imported indigo, native plants, imported and local woods and roots, to the packet dyes producing bright colors like reds, purples, and oranges–but predominantly red.

Beginning around 1865, the Americans introduced Merino, Rambouillet and Debouillet sheep, which are French breeds. This wool was different than the Churro wool in that the French breed wool was finer, but it is also more greasy and kinky. The new sheep breeds yielded more fleece which, after the railroad came, allowed growers to sell more wool and transport it back to the mills in the east. The weavers in New Mexico started to use the new fleeces for spinning and using it in their weaving.

After the railroad came to New Mexico in 1880, there was more mill-spun and commercially dyed wool imported into Santa Fe. Around 1890, a man named Jake Gold started to sell weavings in Santa Fe that were made by the weavers in Chimayo. He would supply commercial wools to the weavers to use, and the weavers would sell the weavings back to the dealer for cash. Jake Gold sold these weavings as “Chimayo Indian blankets.” Later there were other weaving dealers who would sell these “Chimayo Indian blankets.”

Jacobo teaching at El Rito - Photo used with permission from Irvin Tujillo

Then at the start of the 1900’s there was a transition from Santa Fe dealers supplying the wool and selling Chimayo weavings. My grandmother’s brother, Reyes Ortega, started to buy the wool directly from the mills and take orders, bypassing the Santa Fe dealers. My grandmother’s other brother Nicacio Ortega married my grandfather’s sister, and started his own shop and began hiring weavers.  By the 1930’s there were several other families in Chimayo who started mercantile stores and sold the weavings produced by their family or contracted weavers. The weaving shops standardized the design placement, establishing the Chimayo design style. The amount of design in the blankets became standard for each shop so that the weavers would be paid the same for the weaving.

Around the time of the Great Depression, there was a reintroduction by my father’s generation of the old Spanish blankets using natural dyes and the hand spun yarn. My father taught weaving, spinning, and dyeing as part of the WPA. This resurgence lasted from the early 1930’s up to the start of World War II.

There are still many weavers here in Chimayo area working for the various weaving shops. We still are continuing that industry, although here in Chimayo there is not that much sheep-raising. My sister has about 30 sheep which we hand spin and use in selected weavings.

Meg: Could you describe the Rio Grande style of weaving and what it encompasses?

Irvin: To me, the Rio Grande style encompasses the history of weaving in New Mexico. The time periods include the Spanish, Mexican, American Colonial, and the industrial Period. There have been changes with each period in the weavings.

"La Entriega" - Photo used with permission from Irvin Tujillo

During the Spanish period, which lasted until early 1800′s, pieces used mostly indigo, black and white and were generally striped in design. There’s also Jerga, which was a coarse material used as carpeting, sack cloth, or tarp. The Jerga was usually black and white wool in a twill weave with a checkerboard design appearance.

With the Bazan brothers in 1807 came a design style in which small tapestry elements appear within the stripes of the earlier frasada or blanket design. Through trade, Saltillo serapes were introduced. These serapes were extremely intricate in the fineness of the weave and formal in design appearance. They were highly prized by the more affluent in the community. There are many examples of the Saltillo design in the Northern New Mexico weaving. This design form was to place a large diamond motif in the center of the piece with a side border design and vertical design chains around the center motif. These weavings, which we call “Rio Grande Saltillo,” were all tapestry technique. Many New Mexico examples are dated circa 1800 and a lot of them up to the 1845 period. This occurs at the end of Spanish rule and into the Mexican rule, up to the time when the Americans come and take over. This is what I call Mexican Period.

One of the design elements that started to show up in New Mexico weaving as early as 1880 was the eight-pointed star or “LeMoyne” star. I believe that it was brought on the Santa Fe Trail and that the star may have been taken from the quilt design, but the star is also found on Spanish textiles and uniforms, and also in Moorish architecture and could have been introduced through trade on the Camino Real which came from Mexico. The eight pointed star woven in the blankets here was called a “Vallero star” resulting in what is called the “Vallero” style. This style occurs after the Americans take over New Mexico. I call it the American Colonial Period.

"Grace" - Photo used with permission from Irvin Tujillo

The “Chimayo Blanket” originated in the 1890′s. The primary colors used in these weavings were cardinal red, black, and white. This becomes what we call the “prototypical Chimayo” blanket. Indian motifs such as the bow and arrow, the candlestick and the whirling log (which look like backwards swastika) started to be used in the weavings. By the 1920’s, designs that began showing up in the weavings were the thunderbird, rain cloud, and the road runner motifs.  This is what I call the Industrial Period with the introduction of the Railroad and the tourist trade.

Most of the pieces at this time were blankets, of thin weight wool. In the 1950′s, after World War II, yarn companies back East started marketing thicker yarn so that they could sell more of it. And the weavers started to like it. They started to use it here in Chimayo for rugs. So the Chimayo rugs basically started after World War II.

A lot of people will walk into the shop and say, “These are nice rugs.” I weave blanket-size pieces, so I’m trying to preserve the blanket industry and they may be fancy blankets, but they’re still blanket-size. That encompasses the development of the Rio Grande tradition.

Meg: Can you walk me through your own history with weaving?

Irvin: I started when I was 10 years old. My dad showed me how to carry a design. He didn’t draw pictures. He didn’t have sketches when he did his weaving, and he didn’t take pictures of his weavings to document what he had woven. So I had no source of design other than verbal instruction from my father. That led me to look into Navajo books because I could not find any books on Hispanic weaving. There was very little written about Spanish weaving. There was usually a one-page description to compare Spanish weaving to the Navajo weaving.

Jacobo teaching at El Rito - Photo used with permission from Irvin Tujillo

When I got older, I started to wonder. I said to my Dad, “You’re a seventh generation weaver–what did these other generations do?”

And he said, “Well, my grandmother’s pieces were striped.”

And they were in the crib in the next room when we stayed at my grandmother’s house, and my aunt would put it on us as a blanket during the winter. These are simple, striped, hand-spun pieces.

There was a book published in 1976 called The Spanish Textile Tradition of New Mexico and Southern Colorado. This opened my eyes to the Saltillo serape’s influence, which I hadn’t seen before. Another great influence on my weaving has been the Spanish Market, a crafts fair started in Santa Fe in the 1930’s, which encouraged the use of hand spun and natural dyes in weavings, and other Spanish Colonial crafts. The Spanish Colonial Art Society in Santa Fe revived the market in 1965, and my father was invited to show his weavings because they knew him from when he taught as part of the WPA project in the 1930’s. I started to show my work with him at the Market in 1976 and I was able to see what other weavers were doing.

"La Vereda" - Photo used with permission from Irvin Tujillo

After getting married to my wife Lisa in 1982, we decided to become professional weavers and open up our own weaving studio. We started to inquire into studying Rio Grande weavings in museum collections. We participated in the repackaging of the weavings, probably about 200 pieces, at the Museum of International Folk Art collections in Santa Fe.

Lisa and I started to look at other museums to see what their collections had. The Southwest Museum in Los Angeles, the Heard Museum in Phoenix, the Taylor Museum in Colorado, the Albuquerque Museum, the Museum of Anthropology at the University of New Mexico, the School of American Research in Santa Fe, and many others. What we saw is there wasn’t one design reproduced over and over. There were individual weavings made by unknown artists. It led us to study their forms, how they developed the design ideas, materials and finishes. Not necessarily copying the designs exactly, but taking notes for ideas. So that kind of helped us to start designing more complex pieces. We started to explore these influences in our weaving.

We got to help curate a Rio Grande textile exhibit for the Albuquerque Museum and Lisa and I were able to make comments on the pieces that were exhibited. The comments showed up in the catalogue of the show. There, I also helped them put together an old loom which was basically a bunch of sticks in a box. From my knowledge of looms, I got to put it together and I wrote a procedure for putting up that loom for the museum. The study of looms is an ongoing interest of mine. I’ve constructed looms and seen different details found on looms that I’ve helped people put together and get working. This has been in general, not just in museum-owned looms.

Meg: Can you talk a little bit about some of the different designs and patterns you work with, and what their symbolism is?

Irvin: I spoke about the Saltillo serape. These tapestries, which probably took one to three years to weave, had small elements. And the elements are about probably a half an inch by three quarters of an inch, really tiny elements.

Irvin at work

These are the same elements used in the Rio Grande blanket, but in a blown-up form. These are common elements that represent the hour glass, the tulip, the chevron, and little hands.

In the Trampas Vallero, I use an hour glass chain that represents a bear trap.

The Chimayo blankets are all over the place. A lot of the early pieces incorporate what we call a whirling log. It was used during the 1920′s, 30′s, and looked like a swastika. Turn it one way it’s a whirling log, and if you turn it the other way it’s a German swastika. I use candlesticks in the border of a prototypical Chimayo, basically a line that looks like a candle with a wick spaced anywhere from six to 12 inches on the side of the border. I use the Thunderbird, clouds, lightning, and sometimes a roadrunner. The Tree of life is another design I might use. I have also incorporated floral designs, cars, birds, a small human figure–even the space shuttle! Most all of these design elements have been part of my work.

Meg: When we met you spoke about the physicality of weaving, and through it, learning balance. Can you explain that?

Irvin: Shuttle work is very physical on a Spanish loom because you have to stand up, and you’re throwing the shuttle from one side to the other. A shuttle is like a small sled that contains a bobbin of thread that you throw from one side of the weaving to the other side of the weaving. As it slides from one side to the other it releases the weft thread to make that line of the weaving. And if I start with my dominant hand, I throw the shuttle to the other side and I catch it with my subdominant hand. So, I catch it with my left and I do the same motions with my left and throw it back to the right.  It’s kind of a development of the body; it involves using both sides of the body, and both sides of the brain because I am thinking all the time, thinking of geometry, aesthetics of the design, and the details of the weave and how the loom is working. The weave tells me if something is going wrong and I know how to correct it.

The old pieces that we’ve observed have a straight edge and an edge that is not so straight. What Lisa and I concluded, based on our personal experience, is that the dominant hand makes the better edge on the side of the blanket, or selvege, than the subdominant hand. My father said through practice that you would eventually weave a straight edge with both sides. I’ve been weaving for 40 years and I still have yet to master that. It’s like running or playing an instrument, you have to practice and keep it up.

Tapestry is basically the same way. Instead of throwing a shuttle all the way across, tapestry involves moving bobbins of one color maybe a couple inches to one side, and then the next bobbin follows. And the motions are the same, although it’s slower, and it’s by hand instead of with a shuttle. My eye has to observe the interaction between the adjacent colors and I have to see that with my eye.

These all become fluid body movements. I’ve studied my motions to try to develop efficiency and save time. There are bad habits that I’ve observed in myself that take up time. I became aware of what my body was doing by looking at dominant motion and subdominant motion with my body. My father said that eventually with practice that both sides of the body could perform the movements equally and the rhythm would start to happen between the mind and body.

Irvin at loom 2010

Meg: Could you describe the rhythm to the work?

Irvin: There is an efficiency curve that happens. When I first get on the loom, it takes me maybe 30 minutes to develop a smooth motion and probably in an hour or an hour-and-a-half I am cranking really fast. And then there is a point maybe two or three hours down the road that my back starts to tire. So I have to take a break and then I have to start again. Usually after I start to become fatigued, my pace is slower and so the rhythm is slower. You have to be in shape to do the shuttle work.

The tapestry work is pretty sedentary in that I stand on the same pedals for a longer period of time because I’m moving the bobbins back and forth. It’s a lot slower, but the rhythm occurs with the bobbins as well. The movement becomes repetitive and it goes from one side of the piece to the other side. I do the same thing that I do with the shuttle. When I finish moving the bobbins in that row, I step on the other foot and pull the beater of the loom with my hand to pack that row of the weft threads back to the fabric. I start on the same side and go back to the other side moving all the spools, so it becomes a rhythm.

Meg: Weaving requires concentration–has the craft had an impact on your mindfulness in general?

Irvin: I have to be aware through my eyes to see what’s happening. So I’m using my mind to look and see what’s happening with the thread. If I start to think about another subject–having to go feed the cats or dogs, fixing a water heater or air conditioner, things like that–I can’t weave.

Bobbins used for tapestry

I have to get off the loom. Sometimes I’m interrupted by a person who’s been to the shop and they approach me and want to see how to weave. I’ve tried to learn how to weave while I’m talking. I can’t do it with complex stuff.

But the shuttle stuff is a lot easier than the tapestry. It’s a lot by feel, so I’m using my senses. I’m using the feel of my hand on the shuttle or bobbin from its tension. I’m also using my eyes looking at the side edge. I hear the threads as I pull the beater back to the fabric and listen for scraping which might lead to a thread breaking. I don’t use my smell that much except when I dye wool.

When I’m weaving I’m not very good at hydrating myself. Usually once I’m “in the zone” I don’t care about anything. I don’t really get hungry. I start early in the morning; eight, nine o’clock and take a break at about 2:30. Then I get on the loom again and continue weaving until 6 o’clock. When I was younger I could weave into the night, but now I am not so obsessed.

Since I don’t draw out my designs, I have to be in the moment.  I have to think ahead and do what my dad called “carrying the design.” That means I imagine what’s coming next in the design. I think maybe five inches ahead of where I am and I also thing about the overall form of the piece. I then have to make changes in the weaving as my imagined design progresses.  And as I weave the design, it may spark a new direction. I have learned to be in the moment.

Meg: And has that carried over to the rest of your life? Do you find that you’re more in the moment when you’re doing everything else that life involves?

Irvin: I live each day, theoretically, moment to moment, but I’m planning a little bit ahead. My life is somewhat chaotic in terms of responsibilities and the kids and all that. The rhythm at home is very erratic and the weaving is very spiritual because it goes in its direction.

Meg: Would you say that it’s kind of a healthy, almost forced way to develop that mindfulness?

Irvin: Yes. I have to have a good orderly direction, yet be in the moment. I don’t have that good time management except when I’m weaving. Learning balance in life can be difficult at times like when I’m thinking about making dinner or cleaning the house or something like that, I tend not to be so orderly.

Meg: How does the landscape inspire you and can you describe a couple of pieces that reflect the local environment?

Irvin: That’s kind of in me. I use my eyes to see what’s happening outside, the changes in climate and the seasons. Right now, the peaches and apricots are blossoming. I see the colors–the browns and greens in the ground and trees, the blues in the sky, the reds, purples, oranges in the sky at sunset, the yellows in the plants. I weave with these and other colors. I’m influenced so much by the landscape and anything I see. I stay in the cage–my studio–a lot. It’s a living and it’s compulsion I think. The colors are my freedom.

Meg: How is creating the tapestries spiritual in nature for you?

Irvin: Weaving is my spiritual life. Mistakes and poor choices I make weaving are spiritual because I learn a lesson. My creative tapestries are for my own pleasing and my own spiritual rejuvenation.

There is a time in each moment in the creative process where I reach “The Zone”, where I become fluid and the piece seems to create itself. The only way to describe it is that time is not there, the energy flows through me, and the weaving happens. It is interrupted by thinking or when someone comes up and talks to me.

Meg: I believe some of your pieces are reflections of your internal “landscape,” observations on what is going on in your life. Can you explain that, and describe a couple of specific pieces?

"Soul with a Capital S" - Photo used with permission from Irvin Tujillo

Irvin: I have used historic events like the space shuttle crash in the mid-eighties, and then a midlife crisis that occurred when I reached 40, as well as my mother’s passing, my father’s passing. I wove a piece for the bicentennial in 1976.

I have named pieces after songs. One time I was studying a song to learn the drum part. I listened to the same song over and over while I was weaving. It was like a mantra as I wove for weeks on the same piece. “Soul with a Capital S”, a song by Tower of Power, was the name of the piece. I also named a piece after a Russian music group called t.a.t.u. My daughter was listening to their music at the time I was weaving the piece. I have named pieces after songs by David Bowie, Brian Eno, Santana and John Lee Hooker.

I have named pieces for what they look like to me. “Gold Circle,” is a piece in which there is a particular motif in which I used gold metallic thread in its center.

"Gold Circle" - Photo used with permission from Irvin Tujillo

I have made pieces about my culture. I once wove a piece called La Entriega which is a tradition at a Spanish wedding. In this tradition someone sings a poem about the family members and introduces the new relatives to each other.  The wedding blanket or frasada de Boda is usually given as an endowment from the groom’s family to the bride. I made a piece with a “Matachine” Dancer, a member of “Los Matachines.” which is dance that was brought from Spain.

Meg: I believe I heard that you studied engineering. When we met, you spoke of weaving as a binary process and that you look at other’s works not only to appreciate the beauty, but to analyze how it was woven. Could you explain the element of science, if you will, in the art of weaving?

Irvin: Weaving is binary in the sense that warp and weft have two possibilities. Either the weft passes over the warp or weft passes under the warp, either 1 or a 0. Computers were developed from weaving logic.

I have a machine design degree which I used to design a loom to weave rugs up to 12 feet wide. I used structural engineering for designing the pieces of the loom.

I started working on a plying machine to twist 2 or 3 yarns together to make a thicker yarn, but it is a work in progress. I am always trying to improve on the looms and I experiment and learn from parts that break or wear out.

Meg: I was surprised to learn that the design of your weavings develops somewhat spontaneously and you don’t work from a picture or sketch. You’ve referred to not necessarily knowing how a piece will come out. Can you speak to this process, and whether it has been helpful in life generally, where none of us know how things are going to “turn out”?

Irvin: Most of my traditional pieces don’t use sketches and I make up the design as I go. I have used sketches in some of my pieces. These are quite challenging since I don’t weave the same design twice. Drawing these designs would require as much time as weaving them.

I mentioned that some of my pieces have curves. I usually have to draw the curve on the warp so that I can follow the line, but I still have to make a decision when to go to the next thread or pick colors for the next thread.

I took a course from Archie Brennan from England, a world class tapestry weaver, who taught me to decide when to change to the next thread. This is making a micro view of the weaving.

When I was studying drafting before I studied engineering, I took a course called descriptive geometry–looking at a shape from different planes. I learned to imagine what that would be like for different forms. This helps me imagine what the piece will look like from a distance.

Meg: I believe you taught your wife to weave and I know that she too is a master weaver. What is it like working at the same craft together?

Irvin: When we first started the studio it was with my father, Jacobo, and my wife, Lisa. When we wove in different rooms of the same studio, it created a kind of a necessity to do the best work we could.

It was like getting to understand the other person’s flavor, in other words, each has their individual personality and how they express that.

And Lisa, she influences me a lot because she boldly goes where I haven’t gone. I’m influenced by her weaving. I consider her the master. She has had a lot more experience in diverse design and fiber arts than I have. I consider her a fiber artist. I am now approaching the level in weaving that she was at 20 years ago.

Fracisquita Isidoro Trujillo Spinning, 1929 - Photo used with permission from Irvin Tujillo

I’m not sure what she thinks of my weaving. We weave in separate rooms, but we can’t help having an influence on each other. There is healthy competition–having a studio where we’re hanging weavings on the wall. It’s really interesting to look at them.

Every day when I come into the studio I look at the pieces for a long time because I see something different every time I look.

Meg: And is there anything in particular that you would say that Lisa has taught you?

Irvin: She taught me to make up new design elements instead of using the standard traditional elements all the time. She takes more chances than I do. She also showed me other sides to the business. I think she taught me to be confident in my work. We critique pieces after we finish and she might say, “I really like this part of the piece or I really like that part.” And so I take what she says and I put it in my bag to use in future pieces.

Meg: So she helps you focus on your best work?

Irvin: It’s kind of like she’s my editor.

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