In Casas de Lázaro (Albacete), weaving is still done in the warmth of the home. But no longer because of the need to procure fabrics – for clothing, for the house, for work – but for a job. “The town has a lot of weaving tradition. Before there was at least one loom per family. Quilts, rugs, saddlebags, shepherd's capes, rag blankets and some other clothing were woven, although that was almost residual. Today, 80 percent of our production is precisely the tailcoat for traditional costumes,” says Sergio Rosa, who has taken up the baton of his ancestors at Artesanía Textil Eustaquio Rosa, a workshop that is already in its fifth generation of weavers. He and his brother, Eustaquio, learned from his father, who lives on the upper floor where the workshop is located and still comes down from time to time, at 85 years old, “to take a few passes and kill the bug.” .
Rosa says that it started as a game, from the age of three, and has been developing without pressure. The three looms that she handles, the cotton warp with merino wool, are the same for making garments with traditional roots and contemporary fashion, and even for decoration. “I may not be the richest, but maybe I will be the happiest,” she says.
There is no verified data, but it is a fact that the old manual labor has returned to its full potential, partly as a reaction to digital domination, partly in response to the effects of globalized overproduction and monoculture, and partly because of environmental responsibility. . In such a breeding ground, craftsmanship is experiencing a boom unlike anything previously known, also supported by fashion, especially luxury fashion, which has made ancestral crafts the same.
Weaving the old way, on ancestral wooden looms, has also become a way of life. “Since the pandemic, people have much more value the importance of a more holistic life experience, with greater awareness about their mental health and what is really important. In that sense, the looms encapsulate all that experience, since their work is methodical, repetitive, slow and enriching,” British textile historian Tatiana Fisher confirms to Magazine.
“We leave everything, literally, to weave,” reveals Ana Santiago, a manager with almost three decades of experience in business administration converted into an artisan weaver. In 2014, she and her partner, Francis (about to sit for forestry agent) settled on the outskirts of Orcera, a town in the Sierra de Segura of Jaen, within the Cazorla, Segura and Las Villas natural park, to reinvent themselves as Ana and Francis Tejedores.
In 2020 they won the National Crafts Award in the product category, which ranges from clothing to pieces for the home. “We have even recovered a historical fabric, the fustian, and we make fabrics that we call ethnographic reproduction from personalized orders,” he explains. “In reality, the loom is another means of artistic expression, a textile art that was championed by the Bauhaus, for example,” he continues. Theirs, furthermore, is an example of a rural revitalization project, which especially benefits rural women who want to start a business.
Loom culture is not just a matter of maintaining tradition: yes, we look at the past, but with the innovative eyes of the present, creating for the future. Knit to progress, that is. Such is the premise of Loom%, the workshop/brand of Anastasia Xenaki and Petros Christoforatos that champions the rebirth of European artisanal weaving from Athens. “She is the mother of all arts,” says the tandem, which counts the Acropolis Museum among its clients. “The loom as a tool and the weaver with his mind and heart can create unique works of art or high-quality fabrics for the fashion industry. And most importantly, in an ecologically conscious way.”
