Ellen O’Neil and Dr. Martha Peacock, Visual Arts
The original concept for my research was to compare weaving between cultures and the roles of women in the creation of woven art. I approached the subject with much excitement, as woven art has been a part of my life since birth. In having the opportunity to go to France, my study of weaving consisted of tapestries and the history of textiles. Upon returning home, I was able to spend six glorious weeks with my grandmother learning how to weave.
My first exposure to tapestry weaving came as I toured Manufacture Royale des Gobelins in Paris. One of the main centers of French tapestry weaving, Les Gobelins produced the tapestries for the palaces of Versailles and Fontainebleau. Thus, I immediately understood that tapestries were seen as a strictly aristocratic decoration. Hung on the walls of palaces for warmth and embellishment, they served a simple ornamental purpose, often used to relate tales of classical heroes or the French kings. A certain workshop produced a tapestry based on a painting and more precisely, the design was taken from a carton or large blueprint of the piece. The creation of tapestries is a time consuming, full-time occupation. One finished tapestry of fifteen feet by ten feet could take three full-time workers three years to complete. Today, workers have a seven-year training regimen, and even those artisans who are directors of the workshops have little choice as to what pieces they will work on. Those who create the tapestries love their work, although it is highly meticulous and demanding.
While visiting Les Gobelins, a French lady from Beauvais asked me why I was taking notes, and I explained to her that I was doing research. She suggested that I come to Beauvais to see the basse-lice, or low-warp tapestries. I expressed interest at the idea and she said that she would meet my train and we could go to the workshop together. I arrived in the morning and after seeing three churches and going to two cafés, we arrived at Manufacture Nationale de Beauvais. We went on a tour with an extremely kind and patient guide who explained and demonstrated exactly how the tapestries were created. My impression from the entire day was that above all the art forms that I had been exposed to during my time in France, tapestry making was the most humble of all the mediums I had seen. Artists were so friendly and always genuinely pleased to answer my questions, though a bit shy to have their pictures taken.
Following my visit, I became enthralled with the often ignored and misused tapestries that are so in abundance throughout Europe. Sometimes they were nicely labeled with their workshop of origin and the century in which they were created, and at other places, they were nearly falling apart, without a title, date, or workshop noted. One sad tapestry had even been glued to a wall, and cut into to make a door into a small crawl space. On the contrary, other handmade works I saw were treasured. Madame Delorme, the lady whom I lived with, had an embroidered blanket she and her mother had made together. The blanket was a treasure to her and her family, and through her explanation, I came to understand that broderie is a technique passed down from mother to daughter.
My impressions of tapestry weaving also applied to my opinion of frontier weaving and the weaving of my grandmother. When I was born, my mother received a pink baby blanket that my grandmother had woven for me, even before she knew I was going to be a girl. As Madame Delorme treasures her blanket, so I treasure mine, and the rugs, placemats, and table runners my grandmother has given me over the years. Her point of view in teaching me how to weave was that weaving has always been the thing she did for herself. It was a personal outlet for her to create for her family and to give them treasures. This philosophy contrasts with the pioneer idea that weaving was a necessity. Most cloth, all rugs, and many of their blankets were made on hand crafted looms housed on porches, with shotguns at bay to protect the family. Grandma weaves in her own home, comfortable and secure. However, despite the differences, pioneer ancestors and my grandma strongly believe that no scrap of fabric is left unused or wasted. In contrast, tapestries in Europe are woven from new thread, and no expense is avoided.
When I arrived at Grandma’s, she set me up to weave on my great-grandmother’s rug loom, and handed me a bag of rags from which to choose those I wanted to use in my rug. The rags were actually ones that my great-grandma had prepared for weaving. True to the pioneer adage, “waste not, want not” nothing used to create my rug was new. Weaving was wonderful, as I felt a distant kinship with the tapestry weavers I had met. Grandma proceeded to enrich my study by taking me to visit her friends who also wove. With Betty, I prepared a warp and threaded the loom and with Janet, I was able to experience a computerized loom that she uses for her coverlet weaving.
Throughout the process of learning and comparing to my European experience, my conclusion that weaving is the least egocentric art form was confirmed. In France, the individual weaver does not receive direct credit for the work, as my grandmother and her friends are unseen artists that produce things of use and high sentimental value. My research took me to many places and caused me to meet and talk with many different people, but the most wonderful end result is that weaving, in my family, is not a dying art. Thus far, I have made a rug (see fig.1) that I hope my posterity will enjoy. Above all however, a piece of heritage has been preserved, and not only will weaving survive, but the enthusiasm my grandmother has for creating and sharing her art with others will express itself in coming generations.