seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Switzerland
Trying something new! I wanna make a girafe pattern belt for mothers' day because my mom loves girafes. I'm not sure it's working out great, it might be too subtle :( Well, I'll go through the full pattern and see. It's probably okay if I change it up a bit as I go,
Preserving the Unique Ixil Language and Cultural Traditions
The rare Ixil Language of Guatemala's highlands enables nuanced cultural expression for 90,000+ Ixils. But without conservation efforts, will this minority Mayan dialect survive?
The Ixil language represents an invaluable cultural resource for connecting to Ixil heritage. This article explores the origins, dialects, and modern role of the Ixil tongue, as well as the necessity of Ixil interpretation services in healthcare and daily affairs. Read on for insights into how safeguarding Ixil Language reinforces identity and cross-cultural communication for Guatemala’s vibrant…
View On WordPress
Oaxaca Coast Textile Study Tour 2021
Oaxaca Coast Textile Study Tour 2021
Arrive on Saturday, January 16 and depart on Monday, January 25, 2021 — 9 nights, 10 days in textile heaven!
Trip is limited to 12 participants–6 single rooms and 3 shared rooms.
Indigo and purple shell dye in Pinotepa de Don Luis
Handmade masks for Dance of the Tigers, San Juan Colorado
Cost is $2,795 per person shared room or $3,295 per person for private room. See details and…
View On WordPress
BATO
Bato-bato sa langit, 'pag tamaan huwag magalit. If you throw a stone upwards to the sky, don't get angry when it drops back down and hits you. - Tagalog salawikain proverb
Inch 39.
I reached a milestone today. 39 inches.
I pause and slowly begin to closely examine my takyed, the belt.
It’s the first time I’m measuring the length of my work.
I breathe. Moving as close as I can, my nose almost to the floor, I squint my eyes to see better.
I run my fingers gently, being careful not to disturb any thread out of place.
Suddenly, I notice a weavingstone at 23 inches. Then another at 18, 13, 12, and 4 inches.
Yes, weavingstones. Snapshots of unexpected colors in a wide ocean of color blocks. Spatial lapses in the weave. Loose edges. Unravelings and revealings.
Bato, stone. Isang bato, one stone. In Tagalog, we say mabato or full of stones. One of my favorite games to play with the kids is "Bato, bato, pick! Bato, papel, gunting?" Rock, paper, scissors? Bato!
I scream out loud, “Oh my gulay, how DID I miss that?”
Slow, deep warrior breaths. HA! HA! HA!
Did my weaving lapses inadvertently mimic the significant milestones that changed my life?
At 4, first moved from Manila to Iloilo
At 12, actively moved with the peaceful People Power Revolution
At 13, forced migration from Pilipinas to the USA
At 18, moved away from San Mateo to San Diego, and recovered my voice through the help of UCSD’s OASIS Summer Enrichment and Summer Bridge Programs
At 23, intentionally moved back from Boston to openly Come Out in San Francisco
At 39…
This is healing art. Healing my heart. Nourishing my soul.
I recently read that in some cultures, weavers purposely leave signatures into the weave in order to trap or ward off spirits. The design imperfections create portals for spirits to enter and depart the textile.
Love. Light. Infinity.
Mabuhay!
Grace Villarin Dueñas
Photo notes (top to bottom): 39 inches and 4 inches, respectively. Both photos taken on May 19th.
BIYALIGA
Finally, I get to take my laga home. I can’t wait to set-up the back-strap loom.
After my first one-on-one session with my Teacher, I started envisioning where I could attach the loom. Suddenly, everything was a potential place to weave. My Bucky-inspired designer’s mind was on the loose.
My favorite candidate was my mango wood coffee table. I was determined to use two clamps to hold up the dowel. The truth is, I secretly harbored a desire to find any reason to procure metal industrial clamps. Unfortunately, I needed to have the proper angle and tension in order to weave.
So I finally settled on using the double hinges in my mango wood armoire. Two pretty pink cords that used to serve as handles for a shopping bag were re-imagined as loops to hang the sa-u-yan. In the beginning, I would take the cords down after each weaving session. After several times, I decided that it was more practical to just leave them up.
Laga found it’s proper placement in my home.
I slowly roll-out my loom being very careful to keep every thread in place. Starting with the sa-u-yan, then the second puuyan, and then the first puuyan. I use the ipitan to anchor the sakyot making sure that it’s properly aligned. The gedchangan backstrap is well-adjusted to the nook of my back. Inserting the tubungan in between the two puuyan, I carefully balance my body to maintain proper alignment of the sakyot. Everything is set-up and I’m ready to go.
I am one with my laga. Laga, I am.
I turn to pick up the biyaliga, but it’s nowhere to be found.
I am strapped in and immediately feel trapped. I stretch my arms as far as I can, trying to see if maybe it’s hidden under the cloth I used to transport the loom. Nope.
A desperate moment. A sudden sense of panic. A long deep breath.
Still strapped into the loom, I suddenly remembered how earlier in the afternoon, my Teacher explained that the biyaliga must be taken out before the loom is folded. In my excitement to take home my loom, I inadvertedly left my biyaliga at my Teacher’s home.
Freeing myself from the loom, I pace back and forth for inspiration.
Why don’t I have an old school metal ruler at home? I grab a wooden incense holder. But for the life of me, I can’t remember the exact sharpness of the edge of the biyaliga. I grab my jade arc-shaped Gua Sha, a Traditional Chinese Medicine self-massage tool that stimulates the lymphatic system. Disaster averted? Or file under #EpicFail?
Strapped back into the loom, I take a deep breath and pray before proceeding.
The wooden incense holder’s edge is too thick. Argh.
The jade Gua Sha’s edge is perfect. Except that it curves. Waaa.
Our ancestors were indigenius in designing a beautiful perfect tool like the biyaliga.
Breathe. I didn’t want to waste any moment being separated from my loom. But at that moment I wished that I could go outside, salvage some wood and hand-carve a biyaliga. Desperate times result in creative attempts requiring comedic relief.
In a race against the last couple of hours before the sunset, I was determined to make it work. If Tim Gunn was here, he would be proud. Probably deeply concerned, but hopefully proud of my efforts.
The first pass with the incense holder was a disaster. The pakan was suspended in the middle of the sakyot, refusing to merge with the rest of the weft. The sharpness of the Gua Sha made the weave tighter. But then I discovered that it really tightens the weft after the second pass. Once the cross-hatch is achieved, when you sudsod tap using the Gua Sha, it makes it look better. I give it a chance. And then come to the humble conclusion that it doesn’t look quite right since the pakan now angles to the left.
Saved by the setting sun. Counting down to a reunion with my beautiful biyaliga…
Several weeks later, reunited and it feels so good. Balance restored. And all is right in the world.
Just as every living creature in the circle of life has its purpose, so does every tool in laga weaving.
Mabuhay!
Grace Villarin Dueñas
Photo Notes (top to bottom): Gedchangan back-strap, biyaliga, tubungan taken April 5; laga came home on May 7; biyaliga in action.
SA-U-YAN
In Kalinga, weavers weave in community. My Teacher explained that most weavers set-up their loom right outside their homes so that they are easily able to interact with their neighbors.
I carpool with Leng Leng to weaving class. It’s the first time I’m weaving with my Teacher and another Apprentice. We try to figure out where to set-up so that we can weave side-by-side. Leng Leng takes the usual spot by the desk, while my Teacher sets-up my loom right next to it. She takes my sa-u-yan, the longest dowel in the loom and tries to set-up using the bookcase. The length of the bookcase is longer than the length of the usual spot. It requires a longer sa-u-yan to anchor the loom.
“Let’s exchange,” my Teacher says as she hands me Leng Leng’s sa-u-yan.
“Okay,” I reply.
With one swift graceful movement like a samurai adeptly drawing her sword, I rapidly pull out the sa-u-yan from my carefully rolled together loom, and then gently present it to my Teacher, the Master Weaver.
“How did you do that?” she asks.
I pause to reflect on her question.
“Oh my gulay! What DID I just do?”
Halakhakan. We all burst into boisterous laughter. Simultaneous giggles.
Without a moment to contemplate the potential gravity of my actions, we were in stitches.
I was left speechless, confused, perplexed, intrigued and in awe. All at the same time. Slightly nervous about what I may discover next…I held my breath in prayer. Then, I was extremely grateful for every thread was still in its proper place.
We take a collective sigh of relief.
I am still mostly bewildered. Yet still very amused.
More spontaneous eruptions of laughter and giggles. Sobrang halakhakan to da max.
Here in Ohlone territory at Turtle Island, we weave and laugh in community too.
I still chuckle out loud to myself whenever I recall that moment of hearing my Teacher say “How did you do that?”
Mabuhay!
Grace Villarin Dueñas
Photo Notes (top to bottom): Weaving together at the same time requires a very long shared sa-u-yan, compared to the length of the sa-u-yan when weaving by oneself.
KULAY
I see traditional Kalinga weaving colors everywhere.
It’s the day before weaving class, and I’m so eagerly anticipating my graduation. Graduation! Excited to be given formal permission by my Teacher to take home my back-strap loom.
I eat my lunch at my usual spot on the grass, underneath the very edge of the shadow of an oak tree. Enjoying the best of both worlds, sunlight and sunshade, I happily throw my winter coat on the freshly cut bright green grass.
Lo and behold, a welcome companion the higad caterpillar wearing black, red, and yellow stripes with tufts of fluffy white. Mga kulay ng higad, the colors of the caterpillar.
In laga, the colors weave traditional imagery and sacred healing.
Black as the fertile land.
Red for the bravery of the Kalinga people.
Yellow as the precious Sun.
White for the fragrant flowers of the coffee trees.
Green as the hand-carved terraced mountains.
Magagandang kulay ng lupa, mga tao, buhangin, mga bulaklak at mga bundok. Enchanting colors of the land, people, sand, flowers and mountains.
Mabuhay!
Grace Villarin Dueñas
PITIPIT
The laga weaving process usually starts with pitipit or spooling the yarn.
In the United States, we don’t have access to the traditional yarn that they use in Kalinga. Instead, we purchase commercial sewing cotton thread, and then combine two spools together to simulate the thickness of the yarn traditionally used in laga. The two-ply thread, the warp or the longitudinal threads, is then used to create the framework of the piece, the sakyot. We also combine two of the two-ply pieces to create a four-ply thread, the pakan, the weft or the lateral threads that we use to go back and forth to fill the sakyot.
Laga is traditionally only taught to women. A gift from the Divine Feminine and passed on from grand-mother to mother to daughter to grand-daughter. My Teacher Jenny Bawer Young learned from her aunt Alice Dumatog who had learned from my Teacher's maternal grandmother Mambot Cusay.
Recently, I went to visit my twin six-year old nephews. One afternoon, while they were busy playing with their legos, I found a quiet corner in their room and sat on the floor in order to pitipit.
The kambal, the twins are very curious and inquisitive. And I cherish every opportunity to learn from them. I love being their Ninang, their godmother. Needless to say, I couldn’t say no when they asked to help with the pitipit.
Eager to participate, they each took one end of the spool. Grateful that I didn’t have to worry about the spools rolling away, I pitipit-ed as fast as I could while basking in pride at this teachable moment of cultural sharing.
I shared the story how my Teacher explained that the only time that laga isn’t allowed in their village is when there is a tribal war. The Kalinga believe that laga drains the energy of the warriors. Awesome Divine Feminine Power!
I look up.
Where are the Kambal? Each with a spool.
Slowly moving backwards. Further and further.
Now moving in different rhythms. Slower and faster.
Now moving in opposite directions. To the east and to the west.
Ninang – 0, Kambal – 1.
In weaving, as in life, every moment counts.
Mabuhay!
Grace Villarin Dueñas
