Oaxaca Indigenous Textiles: Preservation or Adaptation

A group of Mexicanos and gringos gathered on Monday evening in the city for the Oaxaca preview of “Weaving a Curve” movie and to see the latest work of Federico Chavez Sosa, master weaver of Teotitlan del Valle.  Most of us came dressed in our local Mexican finery.   Patrice, who has been living in Puerto Escondido for over 20 years and holds dual Mexican and U.S. citizenship, was wearing a fine huipil handwoven in coyuche cotton (pre-conquest, native to the region) indigo dyed huipil.  Eduardo, a Mexicana artist who was raised in Ensenada, Baja California, and I were wearing our Juchitan traje.  Sheri donned a magnificent olive green robozo woven in the mountain village of Tenancingo which was wrapped around a floral blusa intricately hand embroidered in the village of San Antonino in Ocotlan, Oaxaca.

As we were treated to the exhibit of Federico’s magnificent weavings, our talk turned to the textile traditions of Oaxaca and Mexico, and how weavers are adapting traditional huipils to meet the demands of the marketplace — as innovators have done for millenia.  We talked about how some of the great weavers from Santiago Pinotepa Nacional, noted for their traditional handwoven striped faldas (wrapped skirts) dyed with cochineal and purpua, are now sewing the fabric into halter tops and zippered straight line skirts that are being worn by local women as well as sold for the tourist market in Oaxaca.  Traditional adaptation is occurring for many reasons.  Weavers cannot afford to wear the work they create.  They might be able to afford to wear a blouse that costs 85 pesos (about $5 USD), and prefer to sell what they weave that will bring income to the family.  If a San Mateo del Mar weaver, for example, can sell a huipil for 500-1,000 pesos, she may not wear her own work.  The influences of the dominant culture, driven by television, the internet, and the shifting styles of contemporary fashion, bring change (wanted or not) to once remote villages that are now connected to the world by technology.  Out-migration, returning emigrants who worked in the U.S. for a while and then returned to their home villages have an impact.

I asked Federico and his daughter, Janet Chavez Santiago, why they do not use the rugs they weave on the floors of their home.  “We weave them to sell, they say.  These are our livelihood.”  Zapotec rugs from the village of Teotitlan del Valle are a great example of adaptation.  Woolen goods woven in the village on the fixed frame pedal loom were originally blankets and sarapes (ponchos) which the Spanish needed to cover themselves and their horses.  The fixed frame pedal loom is an import from Europe by the Spanish.  Teotitlan Zapotecs adapted the backstrap loom techniques to the floor loom and shifted from weaving in cotton to weaving in wool in 1521.  In the 60’s and 70’s, rug exporters from the U.S. came to the village and introduced Navajo motifs for export to a hungry U.S. design market primarily based in Santa Fe.  Zapotecs adapted.  Floor rugs were never part of their original weaving repertoire.

As we observe these changes in the weaving culture of Oaxaca, it is important to not make a judgment about whether what is happening is good or bad.  Adaptation, change, and innovation will occur as long as human beings wander this earth.  It is part of creativity and of market forces.  Yet, some of these traditions will disappear unless we are willing to support the weavers who continue to weave fine work using natural dyes and other high quality raw materials, and be willing to pay a higher price for their work.

There are more questions than answers.  What will the long-term impact be on local weaving villages where more than half the male population has left to work in the U.S.?  When they return, what attitudes will these men bring with them that will influence change in the traditional lifestyle and artforms?  Do we expect small, isolated indigenous villages to retain their traditional cultures while the rest of the world changes around them and how is this possible?  Does this mean that we expect people to continue to live with substandard education, health care, and access to economic opportunity?  Does textile preservation require that life remains static?  Are our priorities to preserve the well-being of the people or the work they produce?   What will be “lost” if the last woman in a village who weaves fine work dies and there is no one else to carry on?

They Speak Huave Here: A Day in San Mateo del Mar

It is difficult to hear Francisca Palafox Herran speak over the sound of the wind.  She is the weaver, one of the last of the great Huave backstrap loom artisans, who we have come here to interview in her home village of San Mateo del Mar, on the southern coast of Oaxaca beyond Salina Cruz.  In this small fishing village, Huave women have been weaving on backstrap looms for generations.  Traditional huipils from here are finely woven cotton decorated with motifs of the beach and sea: turtles, fish, crab, palm trees, shrimp, birds, butterflies, stars, fishermen, dancers.  Sometimes a fox will appear in a textile, too.  It is hot and humid here and the airy fabric would have provided women with covering that breathes.  The village, however, has adopted the dominant Tehuana style of dressing, so Huave origins are not immediately evident by the traje (local costume).

Francisca Palafox is 33 years old, the youngest in a family of many children.  She was “discovered” by Remigio Mestas, who searches for master weavers in remote villages and encourages them to preserve their craft by representing them in his shops in Oaxaca and San Miguel de Allende, and by offering them national and international exhibitions.  Francisca learned to weave from her oldest sister who learned from their mother.  Their sister, Telofila Palafox is also an excellent weaver.

San Mateo del Mar is a humble, isolated village, dependent upon fishing for mojarras (a type of fish) and camarones (shrimp), which is sold in the local street market and exported to Tehuantepec and Juchitan.  But mostly, the catch of the day provides food for the family.  We did not see many young people.  An aging populations implies out-migration to bigger cities for education and job opportunities not offered here.  This is a simple, and by all appearances, difficult life.  My impression is that this small group of Huave are at risk of being absorbed into the larger culture.  This is part of what makes Francisca’s work so important.

A group of us from the Museo Textil de Oaxaca have traveled over 6 hours through mountainous Mexico Highway 190 to come here to interview and film Francisca in preparation for a documentary the museum is making to accompany an upcoming exhibition of her work.  We watch as Francisca and her cousin Sabina demonstrate the techniques of weaving on a backstrap loom, and talk with Francisca’s children, a son Noe, age 15, and two daughters, Jazmin, age 13, and Liliana, age 11, as they weave and continue the traditions.  There is a risk in this small Huave village of losing the craft.  Most women are no longer weaving, and if they are, the quality of process and product are generally basic.  Lili coats the warp threads of the backstrap loom with atole (a corn drink) to make it easier for Francisca to dress the loom and separate the threads.

Museum director Ana Paula Fuentes, textile preservation director Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano, and education director  Eric Chavez Santiago ask questions about weaving process, culture, values, design, history, impact on Francisca as an individual, her family and her village, the future of Huave weaving.  Eduardo Poeter, a Mexican multimedia artist in incorporating stories of transborder migration in her upcoming exhibition, is also with us.  We are there for five hours.

In the next courtyard, separated by a green chain link fence and a gate, I see an elderly woman finishing the fringes on a piece of textile.  This is Antonina Herran Roldan, Francisca’s mother, age 73.   Her husband is asleep in a hammock in the next courtyard.  The village is hammocks, palm thatched huts, tin covered palapas, sand, salt, wind, intense heat.  In another section of the courtyard, shaded by ancient lime trees, a man weaves a fishing net and ties weights to the border.  Everyone is weaving.  Floral huipils and children’s t-shirts flap on the clothes line.  Two bird cages are filled with green, blue and white exotic warblers.  Antonina shows me her work, including a hanging basket she has adapted from fishing apparatus as container for fruits or vegetables.

When the filming is complete, we are invited to sit down for the afternoon meal together.  The big table is covered with brightly colored laminated cloth.  We are served a first course of thick, pancake-like tortillas, eggs, limes and fresh water to drink.  A bowl of sea salt is on the table.  We use a soup spoon to bring salt to bread and squeeze lime on top.  It is VERY hot and salt is essential to retain body fluids.  (We are told it does not rain much here.) Salt is also used to cure the chunks of fish that is float in the fish soup that is our next course.  There are commercial salt flats in nearby Salina Cruz, and indigenous peoples have been bringing salt from the sea and drying it here for millenium.  The soup is seasoned with pepper, salt, fresh squeeze lime and a spinach-like green herb called epasote.  It is delicious.

After the meal and a few textile purchases from Antonina (everything that Francisca weaves is only available from Remigio Mestas), we decide to walk through the village market.  This is not a tourist location.  There are no beach palapas or hammocks for rent.  We all agree that we will pass on the only hotel in town that is neither clean nor hospitable, and travel to Juchitan for dinner and lodging.

You can see from the photos that the day was extraordinary and Francisca and her family were most welcoming.  It was an incredible adventure.  The 45 minute ride to Juchitan was easy, and we found comfort in the patio of Bar Jardin, on Cinco de Mayo, just off Av. Efrain R. Gomez a couple of blocks from the Zocalo, with beers, Margaritas, and salsa fresca shrimp ceviche.

Oaxaca Guelaguetza 2009 Extravaganza Extraordinaire

At 1:30 p.m. Eric dropped me and Janet off at the base of the amphitheatre for the 5 p.m. performance.  We were warned to get there early to get a good seat.  Even though we had purchased tickets in advance for a specific section, seating is general admission for the section.  Ours was 1A izquierda t $400 pesos each.  We began the climb from the street ascending via a series of steep staircases jammed with food and toy vendors and people exiting from the morning performance.  It was a slow ascent because of the heat, the pack of people and the sheer vertical climb.  I found myself needing to stop every 50 steps to catch my breath!  I have no idea how or where people park if they travel by car.  Buses lined the major thoroughfare and they represented all the villages and regions of Oaxaca.

During the afternoon, the climate changed from hot and humid to a 30 minute intense rain downpouring.  Dancers were given heavy red plastic coverings to protect elaborate costumes and floral arrangements.  We were unprepared and purchased little plastic sheets that did little to keep us from getting wet!  But, there is a festival air to the entire extravaganza and the indigenous costumes are incredible.  The performance lasts a good 4 hours, since there are about 30 different regions represented by dancers and each group has about a 15 minute performance on stage.  Musicians from the regions participate as well.

Guelaguetza means offering, exchange, and mutual support represented in the dance by giving and receiving the special foods of each region.  At the end of each performance, the troupe throws goody bags from their baskets to the audience and those who sit close to the front are the fortunate ones who receive:  ground chocolate, cookies, bread, coffee beans, fruit.  We even saw one group tossing potatoes into the crowd.

It is well worth the experience to do this once!  My preference is to be in the local villages to experience the traditions in a more authentic way, so this will likely be my first and last Guelaguetza.

Remigio Mestas Describes a Handwoven Textile: Video

I’m experimenting with iMovie and made the subtitles tonight.  Here is a discussion I had with Remigio Mestas when I was in Oaxaca in December 2008.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3Z53c-pulA

See complete explanation of Remigio’s work on this blog post:  http://oaxacaculture.wordpress.com/2008/12/21/catching-my-breath-and-catching-up-posadas-remigo-mestas-indigo-tie-dye-workshop/

With me was Martha Sorensen from Santa Fe, NM, a good friend of Remigio, and Eric Chavez Santiago, the director of education at the Museo Textile de Oaxaca.  Remigio works with over 200 weavers, spinners and dyers throughout the State of Oaxaca to create the finest quality textiles that many consider to be museum quality.  Many are located in the remote mountain villages of the Sierra Madre del Sur.  Remigio helps many who need health care, education for their children, and specialized medical treatment.

You can visit Remigio’s shop on Macedonio Alcala in the central historic district of Oaxaca in the patio next to Las Danzantes restaurant.  There you will find extraordinary handwoven and naturally dyed textiles using exquisite traditional patterns and designs that are kept alive by Remigo Mestas.

Silkworms in Oaxaca

Sunday, August 18, Teotitlan del Valle: I’m behind the wheel of the aging blue Toyota truck, four on the floor. Cindy climbs in next to me riding shotgun. Eric, Sue and Emma hoist themselves onto the flatbed and we set off up the cobblestone street, bumpety bump, for the house where they cultivate silkworms, cook the cocoons into silk, spin it, and weave it into glorious rebozos, huipils, camisas (shawls, blouses and shirts). “Tope”, Sue shouts as we approach a speed bump. It is impossible to go faster than 10 mph anywhere in the village. There is a Tope every block or two.

Reynoldo Sosa and his wife are the proprietors of Arte y Seda. They feed their caterpillars mulberry leaves from the trees that grow in their courtyard. The silk is spun and woven into beautifully soft material, which is then dyed with cochineal, pericone, indigo or the leaves of pecan trees. They only use natural dyes. She told us that her father was cultivating the silkworms, and they learned the process from him. Years ago, in the early 1900’s, the use of pesticides in the village wiped out the silkworms and the family had to start all over. This is a labor-intensive process. Just like everything else that is handmade in the Oaxaca valley.

Notice that the loom is dressed (warped) by hand, with all those fine strands of silk that are looped through tiny eyes. Then, when it is cut off the loom, it is sewn into a garment, or finished off by a macrame or crochet process that makes a beautifully intricate and secure fringe. Amazing!

Discuenta: Shopping Smart in Oaxaca

Hay una discuenta? Is there a discount? I often ask, and find that a shop keeper could offer from 10-20% discount if I pay with cash and don’t use a credit card. Credit cards are a hassle for shops because the charge for their use fluctuates with the daily exchange rate and it takes them a while to get their money. So, you have a lot more leverage with cash. Bargaining is expected in market stalls, especially at Abastos and Benito Juarez markets in Oaxaca city, or at the outdoor street vendor mall on Abasolo just off of Macedonio Alcala in the Santo Domingo neighborhood. In the markets you can start at 30% less than what is asked and see how flexible the seller is. Remember, that handwoven and handmade articles take a lot of time, and even without a discount, the price is well worth the labor, quality and materials. I often will determine the quality first, and then decide whether and how much I want to ask for a discuenta.

The “elegance trade-off.” There are many beautiful shops with fantastic crafts in and around the galleria walking mall of Macedonia Alcala. I love to visit Silvia Suarez at her shop, Malacate, on Avenida Gurrion. She is an elegant young woman and talented textile designer who has a flair for choosing the very best huipils and other textile art. It is an aesthetic experience to visit her shop, and prices range from moderate to high-end.

I found fanciful hand-embroidered huipils from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec at good quality and prices at Micaela-Hecho a mano, a shop on the corner of Gurrion and 5 de Mayo (enter from the interior courtyard from 5 de Mayo). There were lots of them priced in the neighborhood of $35 each — a great price, almost comparable to what you would get them for at the market in Juichitan without suffering that excruciating 6 hour curvy-road bus ride over the Sierra Madre del Sur. Michaela buys the embroidered pieces and sews them into blouses herself, thereby passing the savings on to her customers. She also makes fun Milagro necklaces and bracelets — great gifts.

I also like to stop at Librera Grana Purrua and Tally to see if there are any special finds. At El Mano Magico, I say hello to my friend, Alejandra (Ale), who is the shop manager and wife of weaver Tito Mendoza, Arnulfo’s cousin.

A Bargain Discovery. It doesn’t look like much from the street. In fact, it’s hard to see that there’s a shop back there through the courtyard, but my best “find” so far is an artesans cooperative called “Tradiciones Magia y Color Oaxaca.” Address: Macedonio Alcala #201 (enter from the street into a wide courtyard), between Murguia and Av. Morelos. I bought a fabulous hand-loomed cotton huipil dress there with intricate embroidery for $280 USD LESS than at the elegant shops or museum stores. Beautiful rebosos (shawls) hand-loomed in cotton and naturally dyed with embroidery fringes were 30-40% less than at the more elegant shops — for exactly the same item.

On this last trip, a man was sitting on the stone wall in front of Amate Books weaving straw hats from palm. I could tell from the craftsmanship that the quality was superb. Just like a Panama hat that sells for hundreds in the states. Cost: $7.50-10 USD each.

In the villages, you can ask for a discuenta, but remember, the prices are so reasonable, that if you get a 10% discount, this is VERY fair. For example, it can take 40 hours to weave a $300 rug.

Have fun, and keep your eyes open. You never know what you’ll discover next.

Graduation Fiesta at the Elementary School

We walked up to the Presa (reservoir) that day, it was a Friday, very early before it got too hot, and on the way back stopped by to say hello to Ester, Russio and their three girls–Jazmin, Ester and Rocio–who live in the house with the golden bull and the cackling guacalotes just in front of our friend Annie on the hillside at the outskirts of town. What was once a donkey path in front of their modest adobe casita has become a graded thoroughfare, enabling small cars and trucks to come into town from the remote mountain villages. The walking is easier now, not as many granite outcroppings to traverse as we pass through cactus meadows with grazing sheep, cattle and horses. Development is extending its reach even in Teotitlan.

Please come to the escuela this afternoon at 3 p.m., Ester and Russio invited us. Today is the elementary school graduation; daughters Ester and Rocio will be participating in the fiesta. Come, they said, even if you’re late. After noodling around the village, stopping for coffee at The Sacred Bean Cafe, and visiting with Josefina and Magda at Las Granadas Bed and Breakfast, I went to the elementary school, drawn by the music coming from the plaza. It was after 4 p.m. and things were just getting going.

This is the second graduation ceremony I attended during this visit. As I watched this group of first through sixth graders at the elementary school, I was struck by how children are taught at an early age to dance, sing, play, laugh, honor their cultural traditions through dance, revere their history, and demonstrate appreciation for the customs that define their identity as Zapotecs and as Mexicans. What I noticed was how the ceremony of something even as simple as an elementary school graduation takes on epic proportions. Here is the village’s very own Guelaguetza. It appeared to me that the entire village turned out in support. People dressed up in their finest frocks and fanciest shoes,

there were reserved seats of honor for parents and close relatives of the graduates. Everyone participated to collectively bless the future of all these young people with their presence, whether they were graduating or not. The village as extended family promoted a feeling of well-being, joy and comfort. The area was bedecked with balloons and flowers. Drinks were handed out gratis to family members of the graduates. Along the periphery and outside the school, vendors sold refrescas (soft drinks), helados and nieves (ice cream and sorbet), and postres y dulces (pastries and sweets). Students giggled, laughed, were nervous about whether they would do well, played tag, hung on their mother’s

skirts, stood soldierly while posing for photos, took their roles seriously, fell down and got up again, shouldered the burden of heavy baskets balanced on small heads, smiled in satisfaction of having done well at the end. All will go on to middle school, some of those will go on to high school, and then very few will continue on to university. Most will become weavers or laborers, others will work in Oaxaca or travel with coyotes to work in the U.S. Celebrations of village life cycle events are a constant, mixed with joy, tragedy and continuity.

Sewing Lesson: Making a Huipil From Indigenous Cloth

I’m in love with the book, Taller Flora by Carla Fernandez. In it she describes the various ways of putting webs (geometric shapes of cloth–squares, rectangles, triangles) together to create dresses, pants, skirts, blouses, shirts, sashes and jackets. Fernandez describes indigenous pre-Hispanic techniques for constructing garments, and compares this with western techniques. Westerners cut cloth to fit the body. Indigenous weavers feature the textile and, make few, if any, cuts into the cloth. Their clothing is loose fitting, comfortable, and easily adaptable to another future use. The weaving takes center stage.

Last summer, I eyed a piece of hand woven cloth tucked away on the bottom shelf case of the B&B where we were staying. It’s gloriously rich color spoke to me, and I bought it. It’s been stashed away and yesterday I decided to take it in hand and create a huipil. Imagine three long, rectangular pieces hand woven on a back-strap loom, each panel (web) 14-1/2” wide x 80” long and hand-stitched together, featuring intricate patterns of stars, birds, fish, crabs, lobster, bugs, deer, and rabbits. It is a brocaded piece from the coastal Mixtec village of Huazotitlan, Oaxaca. I don’t know for certain, but am assuming, that it is dyed with cochineal (red), indigo (blue) and caracol (purple) based on the price I paid for the cloth ($180 USD) — and that was not yet made up into anything!

Above: Example of weaving on a backstrap loom.

Lovingly, I opened the seams and took apart the hand stitching, thinking about the women who created this fabric. How many women’s hands were there? Were they mother and daughter? Dear friends or sisters?

The 4-ply cotton seam threads went on for a while, were knotted off, the trailing thread tucked neatly into the next set of stitches that continued but were different. I could tell they were made by another pair of hands by the way they entered the cloth. This was every bit as sturdy as any machine-made seam. I was deconstructing the panels because two panels would be sufficient to cover my body. I was able to create a huipil without making a single cut in the cloth. Here’s how I did it:

First using small basting stitches, I sewed two panels together at the center seam, being sure to match the direction of the pattern in the weave. I ended the seam at the opening of the neck hole, measuring how big I wanted this to be so the garment would go over my head. I made the total size of the opening 16″, and marked the cloth equally front to back with a straight pin (and tailor’s chalk) so I would know where to stop sewing. I continued to baste from the hem toward the neck on the other side closing the seam the same amount of inches front to back. Then, I held the side seams together to see how much of an armhole I wanted. I decided on a 12” opening for the armhole. So I measured 12” from the shoulder fold down the side-seam, marked it with a straight pin, and began to baste from the hem going up toward the straight pin.

Not being an accomplished Mixtec seamstress, I took the fabric to the sewing machine and used a basting stitch (#4 stitch length on my machine) to sew all the seams together. I decided not to make the machine stitches smaller (#3) because I didn’t want to pull the the brocade fabric together too tightly and I wanted the flexibility to take the garment apart later in case I wanted to do something else with the material. Then, I steamed out all the seams with my iron (gently) so they laid flat. I finished the huipil by folding the bottom over into a ½” hem and sewing the hem by hand using blind stitches. The entire project took me about 3 hours. I didn’t need to finish off the neckline or armholes because the selvages are perfectly beautiful.

I’m really pleased with how this turned out. A huipil of this quality would cost $500+ in any shop in the Santo Domingo – Alcala de Macedeonia neighborhood!

Norma Hawthorne is a North Carolina fiber and jewelry artist, and university administrator, who writes about Oaxaca and living in Teotitlan del Valle on her website www.oaxacaculture.com She is currently organizing weaving and natural dyeing workshops with Federico Chavez Sosa and Eric Chavez Santiago in Teotitlan del Valle.

ADDENDUM: June 5, 2008. I’ve had lots of requests since writing this post for where to purchase the Taller Flora by Carla Fernandez book.  I cannot find a U.S. source and intend to try to track down this down on my upcoming trip to Oaxaca.  Meanwhile, if you go to the website:  www.flora2.com/ you can download the book from a PDF file.

Cochineal: A Very Short Story of “RED”

Wars have been waged, tributes paid, and civilizations overturned because of cochineal. Cochineal is one of the most valuable commodities on earth. Some say, it is more costly per ounce than gold. For the uninitiated, cochineal is used to dye fiber RED (and purple, pink, orange, and all shades in-between). Remember the Red Coats of the British Army — their coats were dyed with cochineal. Yes, cochineal is a “parasite,” I reply in response to a question recently asked. Aztecs had exacted fealty payments in cochineal from Zapotec and Mixtec subjects long before Cortes conquered southern Mexico. However, not soon after, the Spanish created a controlled world monopoly on the commerce of cochineal. The holds of galleons were filled with tons of dried powder to export to Europe, as a royal and middle class sought to bedeck themselves in red — symbol of power and prestige.

Where does cochineal come from?

A beetle grows and develops on the fleshy leaf of the prickly pear cactus. It becomes imbedded, morphs from male to female, lays its eggs, multiplies, and after about three months of development is ready to be harvested. In Teotitlan people call this beetle a bug. The bug is picked off by hand, dried, and then crushed. It is about the size of an ant. If you pick a live bug off the cactus, put it in the palm of your hand and crush it, it oozes a deep, rich red, like the color of blood. Add lime juice or ash and watch a color transformation. It takes a g-zillion little dried bugs to make an ounce of powder. In the Chavez home, they crush the bugs by hand with a mortar and pestle.

Oaxacan rugs and textiles dyed with cochineal are much more expensive because of the cost of the dye. One can pay up to 50 percent more for a piece that is all naturally dyed with cochineal. Because of the costs, cultivation and preparation time, most weavers in response to market demands for cheaper goods, have put aside the traditional methods of dyeing with cochineal and are using aniline (commercial synthetic) dyes instead.

Oaxaca, once the center for cochineal cultivation, has been surplanted by Peru which produces the largest quantity of cochineal in the world. With renewed interest in cochineal by weavers, the cochineal farm just outside of Oaxaca city is cultivating and selling the little bugs. You can even find souvenir packets of them in gift shops on Alcala Macedonia.

Tapestry Traditions & Textures by Tricia Goldberg

Tricia Goldberg first met Federico Chavez, his son Eric and daughter Janet, in April 2007, when they came to San Jose, California, with an exhibition of their work at the San Jose Museum of Quilts and Textiles. Tricia, a weaver and member of the American Tapestry Alliance, shares her connection through a published narrative in the Winter 2007, Vol. 33, No. 4 issue of Tapestry Topics, A Quarterly Review of Tapestry Art Today. I have reproduced much of it here with Tricia’s permission.

“When my friend Deborah Corsini, the museum’s curator, talked enthusiastically about a family of traditional weavers who would be bringing their rugs to the museum, I had no idea I would be visiting them in their home and studio that summer. About two months later, my husband, two daughters and I found ourselves in Teotitlan del Valle….I had mentioned our vacation plans for a visit to Oaxaca to Deborah and discovered that the Chavez family lived nearby. With her encouragement, we made plans for a visit. As Eric had told me by e-mail, a sign directed us two or three blocks from the town’s main street down a cobbled lane to their home….

“The Chavez family greeted us in their home’s open courtyard, which holds a sturdy loom, winding equipment, and vast quantities of year in a wide range of subtle colors. The yarn is natural wool from sheed raised in nearby villages. It is locally spun on drop spindles which produces a texture quite different from that of commercial or wheel-spun products.

“Eric Chavez has dedicated himself to reviving and maintaining centuries-old traditions of natural dyeing. As Federico wove and Janet wound bobbins, Eric explained how indigo produces many shades of blue and cochineal yields various reds, pinks, purples and oranges. Cochineal comes from the crushed bodies of beetles that are raised on cactus plants, harvested, then dried.

“Federico’s rugs are rooted in the indigenous Zapotec traditions of geometric, loom-controlled patterns, but increasingly they contain his own more personal, experimental designs based on images from nature as well as motifs from Zapotec mythology. He stands at his loom, operating its two pedals with one foot. He uses plain, straight wooden bobbins and packs the weft with a simple plastic comb.

“At least four generations of the Chavez family have been weavers: Federico, who taught his own children to weave, learned from his father Jose, who in turn was taught by his father Victoriano. Federico wove and sold his first rug when he was 10 years old.

“In an adjoining gallery room, Federico, Eric, Janet showed us their collection of finished rugs, spreading and unrolling many of them on the floor so we could appreciate the dazzling variety of colors and patterns.  Their inventory is large, perhaps larger than they would like. Typical of most people in the area, they are still feeling the effects of a drop in tourism brought about by last year’s civil unrest in Oaxaca.

“This gallery space is also the family’s dining room where we were invited to join them for a traditional lunch of chicken mole prepared by Federico’s wife Dolores. We were joined by Omar, the youngest son, a 13-year old who is a skilled weaver himself.

“Eric and Janet are sophisticated young Oaxacans who gracefully blend modern life with tradition. Eric holds a college degree in business and tourism and works to study and preserve ancient artistic traditions. Janet is a student of comparative languages at a nearby university and, in addition to her work for the family’s rug weaving business, maintains strong ties to local religious customs. She told us she hoped to be invited to participate in a celebration a week later in which she and other women would parade through the town in traditional costume, carrying ornate canastas (baskets) on their heads holding saint’s images. Although the basket is heavy, she explained, if you can carry it, this means that your sins for the previous year were not so great. With her parents’ help, she modeled the costume for us — a long, wrap-around wool skirt (cochineal dyed and woven by Federico) and an elaborately embroidered floral blouse — and before our eyes she changed from a modern young woman in jeans into a traditional Zapotec maiden.

“We decided to return to Teotitlan the following week, assuming (correctly) that Janet would be in the parade. The procession through the town’s narrow streets and the accompanying festivities were well worth a second trip. We had also decided to purchase a small rug that we had admired on Federico’s loom the week before. To our surprise, it was finished, but was still on the loom because another rug was still being woven on the same warp threads. He was happen to cut off the rug we wanted and assured us that tying the unfinished one back onto the loom would not be a problem. We value our rug for its beauty and as a link to the Chavez family and the art of Oaxaca.

“We want to encourage more travelers to visit Oaxaca and experience first-hand this beautiful area and its friendly and creative people.”

Tricia Goldberg lives in Berkeley, California, and hosted the Chavez family at an American Tapestry Alliance event at her home during the ATA’s Silver Anniversary Biennial Celebration.