JOURNAL ARCHIVE
Each hand-woven product tells a story, Why we must fight changes in the Handloom Act
Noah Seelam/AFP
All over social media these days, people are making 100 Sari pacts to wear the elegant garment at least 100 times this year. It's a curious sad irony that, just as so many women seem to be rediscovering the sari, the government seems bent on putting an end to its handloom incarnation.
A move is on to repeal The Handloom Reservation Act, which since 1985 has been protecting traditional handloom weaves, especially saris, from being copied by their machine-made and powerloom competitors. It was a small but important protection for handloom weavers, who otherwise struggle to survive. Their yarn, their designs and their markets are under attack.
Now the powerful powerloom lobby is agitating to have this Act withdrawn. Meetings and consultations have been held, largely without the inclusion of handloom-sector representatives, and our representations and queries have gone unanswered.
One powerloom lobbyist at the meeting allegedly said that "we have progressed from the firewood chula to gas and electric stoves. If we need to hang on to technologies from our grandparents times, it is a mark of regression. Our children will laugh at us." Another claimed that "the customer prefers cheaper powerloom sari".
We need to challenge the statement that handloom is not viable in the market. This ignores the facts. Obviously the market has shifted from rural to urban, but it is a growing one, and we have figures to support that. This despite problems faced by weavers in yarn procurement and market access. Over the last five years the sale of handlooms has actually increased. Huge sales and eager footfalls at exhibitions organised by Dastkar, Sanatkada, and the Crafts Councils bear witness. Globally too, as understanding of the ecological properties and design virtuosity of hand-spun and hand-woven textiles grows, more and more international buyers look to India as a source. How tragic that instead of investing in this potential we are seeking to destroy it.
So why not powerloom, the lay person may ask. Isn't it cheaper, quicker and less laborious to weave?
To say that because we have powerlooms, we don't need handlooms is really so silly. To take the chula analogy, it's like saying because we have microwave ovens we don't need tandoors. Each serves its own unique purpose, and it's the Indian tandoor that creates our unique Indian cuisine and draws tourists and foodies. The handloom can create thousands of distinctive regional weaves and designs that no powerlooms can replicate, plus a tactile wonderful drape that is also irreplaceable by mechanised means.
How tragic that instead of investing in this potential we are seeking to destroy it.
If we remove the protection and incentives for handloom weavers to continue weaving their traditional products and saris, we would suddenly be bereft of our past. Each weave has a cultural tradition and a story, each one links us to our social and cultural roots. We would literally be naked without them.
Handloom lovers, it's time to raise your voice.
Noah Seelam/AFP
All over social media these days, people are making 100 Sari pacts to wear the elegant garment at least 100 times this year. It's a curious sad irony that, just as so many women seem to be rediscovering the sari, the government seems bent on putting an end to its handloom incarnation.
A move is on to repeal The Handloom Reservation Act, which since 1985 has been protecting traditional handloom weaves, especially saris, from being copied by their machine-made and powerloom competitors. It was a small but important protection for handloom weavers, who otherwise struggle to survive. Their yarn, their designs and their markets are under attack.
Now the powerful powerloom lobby is agitating to have this Act withdrawn. Meetings and consultations have been held, largely without the inclusion of handloom-sector representatives, and our representations and queries have gone unanswered.
One powerloom lobbyist at the meeting allegedly said that "we have progressed from the firewood chula to gas and electric stoves. If we need to hang on to technologies from our grandparents times, it is a mark of regression. Our children will laugh at us." Another claimed that "the customer prefers cheaper powerloom sari".
We need to challenge the statement that handloom is not viable in the market. This ignores the facts. Obviously the market has shifted from rural to urban, but it is a growing one, and we have figures to support that. This despite problems faced by weavers in yarn procurement and market access. Over the last five years the sale of handlooms has actually increased. Huge sales and eager footfalls at exhibitions organised by Dastkar, Sanatkada, and the Crafts Councils bear witness. Globally too, as understanding of the ecological properties and design virtuosity of hand-spun and hand-woven textiles grows, more and more international buyers look to India as a source. How tragic that instead of investing in this potential we are seeking to destroy it.
So why not powerloom, the lay person may ask. Isn't it cheaper, quicker and less laborious to weave?
To say that because we have powerlooms, we don't need handlooms is really so silly. To take the chula analogy, it's like saying because we have microwave ovens we don't need tandoors. Each serves its own unique purpose, and it's the Indian tandoor that creates our unique Indian cuisine and draws tourists and foodies. The handloom can create thousands of distinctive regional weaves and designs that no powerlooms can replicate, plus a tactile wonderful drape that is also irreplaceable by mechanised means.
How tragic that instead of investing in this potential we are seeking to destroy it.
If we remove the protection and incentives for handloom weavers to continue weaving their traditional products and saris, we would suddenly be bereft of our past. Each weave has a cultural tradition and a story, each one links us to our social and cultural roots. We would literally be naked without them.
Handloom lovers, it's time to raise your voice.
Earthen Tunes – The Vision,
Issue #10, 2023 ISSN: 2581- 9410 Although we are a team of transportation designers we ventured into the world of footwear due to the realization of design’s transformative power. Prior to establishing Earthen Tunes, our trio collaborated on a highly successful wheelchair project during our graduation thesis and this experience enlightened us to the immense potential of design thinking to positively impact the lives of Indians. Our exploration revealed a dearth of authentically Indian designs, as much of what we encounter is influenced by the West. This prompted us to question whether we could create something entirely new, unencumbered by external influences, to address the specific challenges faced by Indians. Following the success with the wheelchair project, the founders Santosh Kocherlakota, Nakul Lathkar and Vidyadhar Bhandare met in 2018 with a newfound purpose: to make a difference in rural India. While footwear for farmers was not an immediate decision, we embraced the essence of design thinking, which urged us to immerse ourselves in rural India, rather than merely analysing articles from the comfort of our homes. SEEDHE CARS SE CHAPPAL?- Why Earthen Tunes?
At Earthen Tunes, we understood that true innovation stems from first-hand experiences and empathy. and we ventured into the heart of rural India to grasp the nuances of everyday life, the challenges faced by our fellow countrymen and the essence of their unique identity.
The next sections talk about our journey of how we were able to create these farmer shoes from a traditional craft
BHAI BOHOT PROBLEM HAIN - RURAL INDIA JOURNEY (SUMMER 2018)
In the first part of our journey we delved into the intricate world of the farmer-to-food supply chain i.e. we tried to understand the complete farming supply chain from sowing to until the food ends up on our plate.
We started off our journey, from Nandad, Nakul’s ’ hometown and proceeded further into rural Maharashtra to places such as Wardha, Baramati
Immersed in the field, we sought to grasp the challenges faced by farmers, particularly during the scorching summer months.
Conversations flowed freely as we engaged with them, without any set agenda other than understanding their experiences. To gain deeper insights, we even tried our hand at activities such as operating tractors, experiencing first-hand the nuances and difficulties faced by these dedicated individuals.
Throughout our six to seven-month journey, we encountered remarkable individuals engaged in even more transformative initiatives. One such person was Mr. Subash Palakar, a leading advocate of natural farming who also advises the Indian government. Attending his sessions broadened our perspective, igniting a spark of inspiration within us.
Another impactful experience was our participation in a run organized by the Paani Foundation, spearheaded by Mr. Aamir Khan. This initiative aimed to combat drought in rural Maharashtra by encouraging villagers to partake in activities that promote rainwater harvesting. Witnessing these endeavours only fueled our determination to create something impactful.
As the harvest season arrived, we explored the subsequent steps of the supply chain, witnessing the intricate economy that unfolds, from grain storage to the Agricultural Produce Marketing Committee (APMC).
The visit to APMC revealed the disparities and exploitation faced by farmers at the hands of middlemen
Our exploration continued into the vast godowns, where we unravelled the logistics involved.
Eye-opening discoveries awaited us, such as the distressing reality of food wastage during storage and the delayed payment farmers endure after delivering their produce.
The warmth and openness of the local communities we encountered along the way were invaluable. Their willingness to share their experiences left a lasting impression, opening our eyes to the realities they face.
Upon returning from this transformative research, we meticulously compiled the problem statements we had gathered. Initially faced with a multitude of challenges, we narrowed our focus to five core issues that embody the essence of Earthen Tunes. These will shape our journey over the next decade, driving us to make a lasting difference in the lives of those who cultivate our sustenance.
BINA CHAPPAL KE?- FOOTWEAR RESEARCH( MONSOON 2018)
Of the shortlisted problems the first one we set out to solve was the issue of farmers walking barefoot. While there may be a romantic notion associated with barefoot walking, claiming a connection to Mother Earth and promoting good health, the reality for farmers today is quite different.
The soil and ecological conditions they encounter actually do more harm than good.
Imagine the common sight in rural areas: cracked and calloused feet, plagued by fungal infections, and even
snake bites. Farming, being a man-made endeavour, creates unique challenges that necessitate protective footwear
The common suggestion to use gum boots or Western-style footwear like Woodland fails to address the specific needs of Indian farmers. Pushing such products into the Indian market proves flawed, as farmers often end
up not wearing anything at all.
To truly understand the predicament, we immersed ourselves in the process, we donned various footwear options available in rural markets, experiencing first-hand the conditions farmers face. From going barefoot
to trying traditional slippers and different types of open sandals, we walked the fields ourselves. This exploration led us to monsoon testing in Kolhapur, known for its challenging black soil, where we encountered the accumulation of mud, a common obstacle for farmers.
The flaws and limitations of existing footwear became apparent. Armed with this knowledge, we compiled a list of crucial considerations, comprising seven to eight essential points that our footwear should address.
Rather than hastily concluding that rubber-based footwear was the solution, we delved into India’s rich repertoire of natural fibres, seeking a sustainable answer.
Our quest became twofold: to develop a footwear solution that protected farmers’ feet while harnessing the potential of indigenous natural fibres.
LOCAL PROBLEM, LOCAL SOLUTION - SEARCH FOR THE RIGHT MATERIAL (WINTER 2018)
In quest for the perfect material our journey began again in Wardha, where we partnered with the NGO Dhara Mithr. Their generous support allowed us to delve into the world of natural fibres and craft our initial footwear prototypes using jute, banana, and cotton fibres. These prototypes showcased intriguing properties but fell short of meeting our stringent criteria for farmer footwear
Undeterred, we pressed on to our next destination—Kerala. Here, we had the privilege of collaborating with the remarkable NGO KIDS, located in the picturesque town of Kottapuram. Operated by a local church, KIDS empowers single and widowed women by providing them with opportunities for skill development.
Working side by side with these talented artisans, we explored unconventional materials such as screw pine, water hyacinth, and coir.
During our time in Kottapuram, we also discovered an enthralling museum that showcased a treasure trove of natural fibres and intricate weaves. Unfortunately, despite the rich heritage and craftsmanship on display, the demand for these woven marvels had waned over time, highlighting the need for greater recognition and support.
Continuing our quest, we collaborated with the Central Coir Research Institute (CCRI) in Allepay. Here, we honed our expertise in coir, while also experimenting with water hyacinth and sisal fibre to make footwear
Although these creations were aesthetically pleasing and offered a delightful wearing experience, they still fell short of meeting our ultimate objective: designing footwear specifically tailored for the needs of farmers
Despite our exhaustive experimentation with approximately 14 to 15 different fibres, it was an encounter in Maharashtra that introduced us to the elusive wool possessing the very properties we had been seeking all along. Intrigued by its potential, we eagerly delved into exploring the wonders this fibre held, paving the way for our next phase of innovation.
DESI MAGIC -THE WOOL JOURNEY (WINTER 2018 - SUMMER 2019)
Among the myriad challenges we faced in our pursuit of natural fibres for footwear, one obstacle stood out prominently: -“water resistance”.
That’s when we stumbled upon a truly fascinating material that repelled water effortlessly. To demonstrate its remarkable properties, we even placed it atop our heads, and poured water over it and to our
surprise the water didn’t pass through.
Curiosity piqued, we delved further into the world of wool, particularly the traditional blankets crafted by certain communities known to endure for 20 to 25 years. Intrigued by this longevity, we embarked on a journey to witness the process first-hand.
During our exploration, we immersed ourselves in wool economy. We discovered the source of the fleece, delved into the quality standards, and uncovered the age-old practices employed in blanket making
The wool economy serves as a vital source of income for pastoral communities across India. These indigenous wool varieties are primarily reared by the Kuruma, Kuruba, Golla and other specific communities residing in the Deccan region, encompassing Karnataka, Telangana, Andhra Pradesh and Maharashtra.
Interestingly, both men and women participate in the wool economy.
For instance, the shearing of wool is entrusted to the skilled katregar community, while women take charge of carding and spinning the fibres within their homes. Subsequently, the men weave the wool into intricate blankets. The entire process typically spans 10 days, with weaving alone requiring four to five days. Notably, every element employed in this craft is eco-friendly, and the looms utilized are among the oldest pit looms in the world
You’ll find the tools used here such as—a hand held spindle for yarn making, a scissor for wool shearing and a brush for applying tamarind kernel paste to reduce coarseness and enhance water resistance.
Sadly, this once-thriving craft faces decline as plastic alternatives replace the coarse wool blankets. What was once a bustling market in Karnataka is dwindling rapidly. Currently, the average age of weavers in this trade is 60 years, and there are no apprentices to carry the craft forward.
In fact, the state of the carding machine pictured here, installed by the government two decades ago, reflects the current state of the craft. With minimal use restricted to three months of the year, neglect has taken its toll.
However, we see a glimmer of hope—a potential synergy between our footwear needs and the demand for this remarkable material. By incorporating this wool into our shoes, we believed we could breathe new life into the craft, benefiting both farmers and the pastoral communities
YEH NAHI BANEGI - SHOE MANUFACTURING
We embarked on the task to transform this wool material into a fully functional shoe. However, we soon encountered a hurdle—finding skilled artisans willing to work with this unconventional fabric. Initial attempts to engage with craftsmen across various markets, including Hyderabad, Mumbai, Ambur, and Chennai, proved fruitless.
Their reluctance stemmed from concerns such as fabric shedding and potential sewing machine malfunctions.
To complicate matters further, we discovered a deep-rooted taboo associated with manufacturing footwear, dissuading many traditional apparel tailors from stitching shoe patterns.
Determined to surmount these obstacles, we took matters into our own hands, purchasing a sewing machine, the team learnt how to stitch, paste and completely build shoe prototypes in house. A few of which are shown here.
Nakul Lathkar, one of the co-founders delved into the realm of crochet, honing his skills to create our very first knitted shoe using Deccani wool. Eventually we developed multiple prototypes to optimize the design. However, we didn’t carry these designs for final production due to the limitation in hand knitting
Eager to explore the potential for large-scale production, we contemplated engaging Women Self-Help Groups (SHGs) as well to bring in an aspect of circularity
Working in partnership with Self-Help Groups (SHGs) in both Chennai and Hyderabad, we encountered a promising revelation. In Chennai, the women of an SHG demonstrated remarkable skill by crafting a pair of our shoes in just one day.
Despite facing language barriers due to our limited fluency in Tamil, we effectively conveyed our design ideas, resulting in a clear understanding of the pattern and by incorporating principles of symmetry, user-friendly marking techniques and necessary tools, we observed the women’s impressive expertise in shoe production.
While this development was encouraging, we recognized the need for further refinement to ensure large-scale production feasibility. This concept remains an integral part of our grand vision, and we aspire to revisit it in the future.
BECH KE DIKHAO-SHOE PILOT TESTING (MONSOON 2019)
As our vision gained momentum, we approached IIT Madras, seeking both financial support and incubation.
Though intrigued by our idea, they were cautiously optimistic, desiring proof of its viability. Their challenge to us was clear: demonstrate market viability by selling a few pairs of our shoes.
If successful, IIT Madras would provide us with the incubation opportunity.
For manufacturing the pilot shoes, we ventured to Ambur, collaborating with a local manufacturer to produce 30 pairs of our shoes (design shown in picture)
For pilot testing we ventured into Maharashtra and various locations in Telangana, where we directly engaged with farmers, seeking their feedback. We opted for a nominal fee structure, ensuring the farmers valued
the product, and explored different types of wool, including 100% wool and blended variations.
The range of conditions we encountered during this pilot phase provided us with invaluable insights.
A few important points were observed -women played a crucial role in the labor force and displayed a fondness for our shoes. Many recognized the material as Gongadi, the beloved wool blanket, enthusiastically encouraging others to embrace our footwear.
TAG CHAHIYE-IIT MADRAS INCUBATION (WINTER -2019 TO PRESENT)
Subsequently, our goal became associating ourselves with IIT and the immense opportunities that would arise from such a partnership.
Fortunately, IIT Madras reviewed our pilot results and agreed to incubate our venture, providing us with a robust platform to showcase our products at various forums. The exposure garnered valuable feedback, enriching our journey further
LIFT OFF - PRODUCT LAUNCH (AUGUST 2021-PRESENT)
After multiple Iterations we have launched YAAR shoes into the market. The YAAR range consists of 2 variants -Himachal wool and Deccani wool. The YAAR shoe is also cross subsidised for the farmers to make it more affordable for them
Earthen Tunes is truly humbled to have received press from multiple platforms prior to its official launch. This Press has helped Earthen Tunes in sales and network. It was able to bring back attention to our indigenous wool and initiate conversations about pastoralism and Livelihood
Our shoes have also been supported by Hon Minister KTR garu of Telangana Government and Prof. Ashok Jhunjunwala from IIT Madras
Earthen Tunes has impacted to lives of over 2000 farmers and have provided over 6000 hours of employment to about 11 weaving and allied activity clusters
We plan to reach over 10000 farmers by the end of 2023-24 and provide livelihood to about 20 weaving clusters across the Deccan region, Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand
Issue #10, 2023 ISSN: 2581- 9410 Although we are a team of transportation designers we ventured into the world of footwear due to the realization of design’s transformative power. Prior to establishing Earthen Tunes, our trio collaborated on a highly successful wheelchair project during our graduation thesis and this experience enlightened us to the immense potential of design thinking to positively impact the lives of Indians. Our exploration revealed a dearth of authentically Indian designs, as much of what we encounter is influenced by the West. This prompted us to question whether we could create something entirely new, unencumbered by external influences, to address the specific challenges faced by Indians. Following the success with the wheelchair project, the founders Santosh Kocherlakota, Nakul Lathkar and Vidyadhar Bhandare met in 2018 with a newfound purpose: to make a difference in rural India. While footwear for farmers was not an immediate decision, we embraced the essence of design thinking, which urged us to immerse ourselves in rural India, rather than merely analysing articles from the comfort of our homes. SEEDHE CARS SE CHAPPAL?- Why Earthen Tunes?
At Earthen Tunes, we understood that true innovation stems from first-hand experiences and empathy. and we ventured into the heart of rural India to grasp the nuances of everyday life, the challenges faced by our fellow countrymen and the essence of their unique identity.
The next sections talk about our journey of how we were able to create these farmer shoes from a traditional craft
BHAI BOHOT PROBLEM HAIN - RURAL INDIA JOURNEY (SUMMER 2018)
In the first part of our journey we delved into the intricate world of the farmer-to-food supply chain i.e. we tried to understand the complete farming supply chain from sowing to until the food ends up on our plate.
We started off our journey, from Nandad, Nakul’s ’ hometown and proceeded further into rural Maharashtra to places such as Wardha, Baramati
Immersed in the field, we sought to grasp the challenges faced by farmers, particularly during the scorching summer months.
Conversations flowed freely as we engaged with them, without any set agenda other than understanding their experiences. To gain deeper insights, we even tried our hand at activities such as operating tractors, experiencing first-hand the nuances and difficulties faced by these dedicated individuals.
Throughout our six to seven-month journey, we encountered remarkable individuals engaged in even more transformative initiatives. One such person was Mr. Subash Palakar, a leading advocate of natural farming who also advises the Indian government. Attending his sessions broadened our perspective, igniting a spark of inspiration within us.
Another impactful experience was our participation in a run organized by the Paani Foundation, spearheaded by Mr. Aamir Khan. This initiative aimed to combat drought in rural Maharashtra by encouraging villagers to partake in activities that promote rainwater harvesting. Witnessing these endeavours only fueled our determination to create something impactful.
As the harvest season arrived, we explored the subsequent steps of the supply chain, witnessing the intricate economy that unfolds, from grain storage to the Agricultural Produce Marketing Committee (APMC).
The visit to APMC revealed the disparities and exploitation faced by farmers at the hands of middlemen
Our exploration continued into the vast godowns, where we unravelled the logistics involved.
Eye-opening discoveries awaited us, such as the distressing reality of food wastage during storage and the delayed payment farmers endure after delivering their produce.
The warmth and openness of the local communities we encountered along the way were invaluable. Their willingness to share their experiences left a lasting impression, opening our eyes to the realities they face.
Upon returning from this transformative research, we meticulously compiled the problem statements we had gathered. Initially faced with a multitude of challenges, we narrowed our focus to five core issues that embody the essence of Earthen Tunes. These will shape our journey over the next decade, driving us to make a lasting difference in the lives of those who cultivate our sustenance.
BINA CHAPPAL KE?- FOOTWEAR RESEARCH( MONSOON 2018)
Of the shortlisted problems the first one we set out to solve was the issue of farmers walking barefoot. While there may be a romantic notion associated with barefoot walking, claiming a connection to Mother Earth and promoting good health, the reality for farmers today is quite different.
The soil and ecological conditions they encounter actually do more harm than good.
Imagine the common sight in rural areas: cracked and calloused feet, plagued by fungal infections, and even
snake bites. Farming, being a man-made endeavour, creates unique challenges that necessitate protective footwear
The common suggestion to use gum boots or Western-style footwear like Woodland fails to address the specific needs of Indian farmers. Pushing such products into the Indian market proves flawed, as farmers often end
up not wearing anything at all.
To truly understand the predicament, we immersed ourselves in the process, we donned various footwear options available in rural markets, experiencing first-hand the conditions farmers face. From going barefoot
to trying traditional slippers and different types of open sandals, we walked the fields ourselves. This exploration led us to monsoon testing in Kolhapur, known for its challenging black soil, where we encountered the accumulation of mud, a common obstacle for farmers.
The flaws and limitations of existing footwear became apparent. Armed with this knowledge, we compiled a list of crucial considerations, comprising seven to eight essential points that our footwear should address.
Rather than hastily concluding that rubber-based footwear was the solution, we delved into India’s rich repertoire of natural fibres, seeking a sustainable answer.
Our quest became twofold: to develop a footwear solution that protected farmers’ feet while harnessing the potential of indigenous natural fibres.
LOCAL PROBLEM, LOCAL SOLUTION - SEARCH FOR THE RIGHT MATERIAL (WINTER 2018)
In quest for the perfect material our journey began again in Wardha, where we partnered with the NGO Dhara Mithr. Their generous support allowed us to delve into the world of natural fibres and craft our initial footwear prototypes using jute, banana, and cotton fibres. These prototypes showcased intriguing properties but fell short of meeting our stringent criteria for farmer footwear
Undeterred, we pressed on to our next destination—Kerala. Here, we had the privilege of collaborating with the remarkable NGO KIDS, located in the picturesque town of Kottapuram. Operated by a local church, KIDS empowers single and widowed women by providing them with opportunities for skill development.
Working side by side with these talented artisans, we explored unconventional materials such as screw pine, water hyacinth, and coir.
During our time in Kottapuram, we also discovered an enthralling museum that showcased a treasure trove of natural fibres and intricate weaves. Unfortunately, despite the rich heritage and craftsmanship on display, the demand for these woven marvels had waned over time, highlighting the need for greater recognition and support.
Continuing our quest, we collaborated with the Central Coir Research Institute (CCRI) in Allepay. Here, we honed our expertise in coir, while also experimenting with water hyacinth and sisal fibre to make footwear
Although these creations were aesthetically pleasing and offered a delightful wearing experience, they still fell short of meeting our ultimate objective: designing footwear specifically tailored for the needs of farmers
Despite our exhaustive experimentation with approximately 14 to 15 different fibres, it was an encounter in Maharashtra that introduced us to the elusive wool possessing the very properties we had been seeking all along. Intrigued by its potential, we eagerly delved into exploring the wonders this fibre held, paving the way for our next phase of innovation.
DESI MAGIC -THE WOOL JOURNEY (WINTER 2018 - SUMMER 2019)
Among the myriad challenges we faced in our pursuit of natural fibres for footwear, one obstacle stood out prominently: -“water resistance”.
That’s when we stumbled upon a truly fascinating material that repelled water effortlessly. To demonstrate its remarkable properties, we even placed it atop our heads, and poured water over it and to our
surprise the water didn’t pass through.
Curiosity piqued, we delved further into the world of wool, particularly the traditional blankets crafted by certain communities known to endure for 20 to 25 years. Intrigued by this longevity, we embarked on a journey to witness the process first-hand.
During our exploration, we immersed ourselves in wool economy. We discovered the source of the fleece, delved into the quality standards, and uncovered the age-old practices employed in blanket making
The wool economy serves as a vital source of income for pastoral communities across India. These indigenous wool varieties are primarily reared by the Kuruma, Kuruba, Golla and other specific communities residing in the Deccan region, encompassing Karnataka, Telangana, Andhra Pradesh and Maharashtra.
Interestingly, both men and women participate in the wool economy.
For instance, the shearing of wool is entrusted to the skilled katregar community, while women take charge of carding and spinning the fibres within their homes. Subsequently, the men weave the wool into intricate blankets. The entire process typically spans 10 days, with weaving alone requiring four to five days. Notably, every element employed in this craft is eco-friendly, and the looms utilized are among the oldest pit looms in the world
You’ll find the tools used here such as—a hand held spindle for yarn making, a scissor for wool shearing and a brush for applying tamarind kernel paste to reduce coarseness and enhance water resistance.
Sadly, this once-thriving craft faces decline as plastic alternatives replace the coarse wool blankets. What was once a bustling market in Karnataka is dwindling rapidly. Currently, the average age of weavers in this trade is 60 years, and there are no apprentices to carry the craft forward.
In fact, the state of the carding machine pictured here, installed by the government two decades ago, reflects the current state of the craft. With minimal use restricted to three months of the year, neglect has taken its toll.
However, we see a glimmer of hope—a potential synergy between our footwear needs and the demand for this remarkable material. By incorporating this wool into our shoes, we believed we could breathe new life into the craft, benefiting both farmers and the pastoral communities
YEH NAHI BANEGI - SHOE MANUFACTURING
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Eager to explore the potential for large-scale production, we contemplated engaging Women Self-Help Groups (SHGs) as well to bring in an aspect of circularity
Working in partnership with Self-Help Groups (SHGs) in both Chennai and Hyderabad, we encountered a promising revelation. In Chennai, the women of an SHG demonstrated remarkable skill by crafting a pair of our shoes in just one day.
Despite facing language barriers due to our limited fluency in Tamil, we effectively conveyed our design ideas, resulting in a clear understanding of the pattern and by incorporating principles of symmetry, user-friendly marking techniques and necessary tools, we observed the women’s impressive expertise in shoe production.
While this development was encouraging, we recognized the need for further refinement to ensure large-scale production feasibility. This concept remains an integral part of our grand vision, and we aspire to revisit it in the future.
BECH KE DIKHAO-SHOE PILOT TESTING (MONSOON 2019)
As our vision gained momentum, we approached IIT Madras, seeking both financial support and incubation.
Though intrigued by our idea, they were cautiously optimistic, desiring proof of its viability. Their challenge to us was clear: demonstrate market viability by selling a few pairs of our shoes.
If successful, IIT Madras would provide us with the incubation opportunity.
For manufacturing the pilot shoes, we ventured to Ambur, collaborating with a local manufacturer to produce 30 pairs of our shoes (design shown in picture)
 |
 |
Subsequently, our goal became associating ourselves with IIT and the immense opportunities that would arise from such a partnership.
Fortunately, IIT Madras reviewed our pilot results and agreed to incubate our venture, providing us with a robust platform to showcase our products at various forums. The exposure garnered valuable feedback, enriching our journey further
LIFT OFF - PRODUCT LAUNCH (AUGUST 2021-PRESENT)
 |
 |
 |
 |
After multiple Iterations we have launched YAAR shoes into the market. The YAAR range consists of 2 variants -Himachal wool and Deccani wool. The YAAR shoe is also cross subsidised for the farmers to make it more affordable for them
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Our shoes have also been supported by Hon Minister KTR garu of Telangana Government and Prof. Ashok Jhunjunwala from IIT Madras
Earthen Tunes has impacted to lives of over 2000 farmers and have provided over 6000 hours of employment to about 11 weaving and allied activity clusters
We plan to reach over 10000 farmers by the end of 2023-24 and provide livelihood to about 20 weaving clusters across the Deccan region, Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand
Ecology and Design, Lessons from the Bamboo Culture
The Contemporary Significance of Bamboo
Bamboo is being rediscovered by mankind in the age of the information revolution, environmental consciousness and space exploration. As a potential renewable resource and an inexhaustible raw material, if properly managed, bamboo could transform the way we think about and use man-made objects to improve the quality of life. In many economically deprived countries bamboo could provide the answer to the distressing problems of employment generation and of providing basic shelter and amenities in an affordable and dignified manner. It also holds promise of the spawning of a host of new industries that are ecologically responsible while providing for the manufactured artefacts for a new age. An agro-industrial infrastructure could well bridge the urban-rural divide in many regions of the world. Can this promise be realised?Notwithstanding the complexity and magnitude of these assumptions it seems appropriate that these propositions need to be addressed with all seriousness and a multi-disciplinary approach be developed to realise this latent potential. The design disciplines that have emerged in this century have been increasingly drawing on the systems metaphor to cope with the complexity in the real world of resource identification and problem solving. It is here that the lessons from the Bamboo Culture could provide a direction to mankind. Above all the subtle messages embedded in the Bamboo Culture can be re-articulated by mankind today with the aid of some of our very powerful analytical and conceptual tools available to us in this age. Never before has mankind been so fortunate to be in the possession of such a vast and widely networked information base along with the capacity to process this knowledge base for the benefit of all mankind.Last year, I was fortunate to be a member of an editorial group that met at Singapore to assemble an annotated bibliography on the engineering and structural properties and applications of bamboo. The group led by Dr Jules Janssen of the Eindhoven University of Technology worked for four days at the IDRC office (International Development Research Centre, Canada) accessing satellite databases and team contributions to complete the editorial task which is now in production. IDRC's massive investments in bamboo research around the globe are indicative of the resurgent interest in bamboo. These researches however, need to be given a larger framework to make the individual research efforts more meaningful and to enable us to pattern these contributions in a holistic perspective. Hence I shall use this opportunity to elaborate the ideas that I had barely sketched out in my contribution to that editorial effort. Further, I shall try and link these to the deeper concerns that have grown over the years as a design teacher at India's premier design institution while grappling with the immense problems faced in India's developmental efforts along with the conviction that design as a discipline has a pivotal role to play in alleviating some of these seemingly insoluble problems of immense complexity.Bamboo: A Personal Journey
My own interest has been in the structural use of bamboo which extends from large structures including houses and bridges, that is structures of an architectural scale, as well as the application of bamboo in furniture and small craft products. Being an industrial designer interested in the use of bamboo, particularly with reference to its conversion into useable products of everyday value, I have been focussing on the way bamboo has been used by local communities in India, particularly with reference to the northeastern states of India. I have surveyed the bamboo growing regions of India intensively with my colleagues at the National Institute of Design and the results of this research have been published in our book titled Bamboo and Cane Crafts of Northeast India.Bamboo is found in most parts of India and has been traditionally used to solve a variety of structural and constructional problems in the Indian subcontinent. A very interesting observation that we have made in the course of our studies is the nexus between the form of bamboo structures and a set of influencing parameters. These include the variety in types of local bamboo species, its distribution and variability over climatic zones, the availability of particular species and its translation into products and structures for local application. These factors have all had an overriding cultural connotation particularly in the detailing and formal expressions that are chosen by local communities in solving their structural and constructional problems. Product variability in form and structure seems to be quite independent of product function and dominated by considerations of cultural differentiation expressing a need for an unique identity at the community level. Properties of material and structure, and their appropriate interpretation in product detailing are a high-point of almost every traditional product that has emerged from a very long process of cultural evolution. These findings have convinced me that we need to understand this material at many levels simultaneously to be able to use it effectively.We have followed up our field research work with several attempts dealing with the design of contemporary products and structures using bamboo. Through these experiences we have further confirmed the need for a very precise understanding of the physical and mechanical properties of bamboo. However, I would also like to stress that in order to ensure its successful utilisation over diverse climatic and cultural zones these physical and mechanical properties need to be carefully juxtaposed with cultural and formal practices that are evident in the expressions of local communities. In order to bring about a simultaneous correlation between the various types of information that would be required by any engineer, designer or local craftsman to utilise this raw material in situations such as ours it would perhaps be important at some stage to reorient and enlarge the scope of the ongoing research and development work to include several aspects relating to the cultural dimensions in the use and conversion of bamboo into useable products and structures.The purpose of the International Bamboo Culture Forum at Oita Japan as stated by Dr. Shin'ichi Takemura is to develop an agenda for the setting up and providing a focus for the development of design activities that are ecologically responsive and humanely sensitive. This conference in Oita which is one of a series of efforts planned to set up the agenda for the proposed Asian Design Centre gives me the unique opportunity to connect and reflect on two of my favourite topics, that is, Bamboo and Design. Firstly I shall spell out the issues and messages that map out the boundaries of the Bamboo Culture after which we can explore the various dimensions of the new awareness relating to the use of the systems metaphor in design and their mutual interdependence.
Knowledge Base of the Bamboo Culture
The manner in which bamboo has been traditionally used by the people in India, China, Japan and several other Asian countries demonstrates a very deep understanding of the workings of ecological principles and the subtle connections between human endeavour and the environment. In our search for sophistication we seem to have lost our tenuous links with the life sustaining processes on earth and seem to be madly accelerating both socially and technologically in an impossible to sustain direction. Total replacement of products of a throw-away culture is unfortunately preferred to the repair and continuous maintenance that is practised in the Bamboo Culture. This has resulted in massive garbage heaps accumulating in our backyards and the creation of museums of garbage. Can we afford to head in this direction? The advanced industrial nations of the West and unfortunately Japan as well seem to be leading the way to self destruction by the materialist and irresponsible consumerist practices and aspirations that are being driven by systematic propaganda in an information rich world. In India too, we have the educated elite aping these practices and aspiring for similar lifestyles quite unperturbed by the ecological consequences and, seeing their behaviour, our disadvantaged rural brethren too aspire to similar unattainable life goals. It is here that I feel we need to rethink our directions and draw on the lessons of the Bamboo Culture. I am not advocating a return to the past. On the contrary I am very much at ease with the computers and other products of human genius including the conceptual tools of our age. I see hope in trying to bridge these seemingly opposing positions in finding a sustainable direction for the future of man on this planet.
Man's use of bamboo in the development of human civilization perhaps predates the Stone Age and the Iron Age as a study by G Gregory Pope seems to suggest. Pope's thesis based on the study of fossil records of the distribution of animal species when juxtaposed with the occurrence of traces of human settlements over the globe along with other indirect evidence suggests that the Asian regions housed the origin and flowering of human civilizations rooted in the availability of bamboo. If this is so, history will be rewritten to give bamboo a catalytic role in the cradle of human civilization which was overlooked due to lack of any subterranean traces caused by the biodegradable nature of bamboo. The theory is quite plausible and it provides some clues on the prehistoric origins and development of man and shifts the focal point to our region of the world.
These regions of Asia have had an undisturbed association with bamboo and in many inaccessible parts of India and most of other East Asian countries this link survives in the lives and practices of its people even today. These need to be systematically and sympathetically studied by contemporary man to distil the essence of the millennia old wisdom that even today resides in these local associations with bamboo. These proposed studies are not merely aimed at the conservation of archaic practices for the sake of some romantic or sentimental mood. They should be aimed at discovering the larger patterns that lie embedded in the details of each product, practice or ceremony associated with the use of bamboo.
Bamboo: The Tasks Ahead
Keeping this pattern discovering task as the focus of the study and as the overarching objective the other areas of knowledge need to be correlated and systematically interwoven to map the boundaries of the knowledge base that I prefer to call the New Bamboo Culture. Some of these are listed below, and would naturally be elaborated with the intervention of others from a variety of special disciplines.
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Economic Impact of Artisans and Their Crafts, An Up-Date
When enumerators from the national Economic Census 2012 knock on your door later this year, give them a special welcome. Census 2012 is going to be hugely significant for CCI and all crafts activist in the country --- and you may well be part of the preparation the enumerators will have gone through in order to do their job. That job is linked to CCI’s “Craft Economics & Impact Study” (CIES) which was completed last year (see Learning Together, Newsletter February 2012). The February Newsletter attempted to keep members informed of developments that have followed the submission of the CEIS to Government, soon after the Study was shared at the Business Meet last August. The Study and its recommendations were then reviewed by a partnership group which came together at the Crafts Museum in New Delhi in September. That was when members of the CEIS team (Raghav Rajagopalan, Gita Ram, Manju Nirula, Shikha Mukherji and I) met with key officials in the Planning Commission and at the Office of the Development Commissioner. CEIS had an impact. Early in March, the Commission called a series of meetings bringing together activists from civil society and a range of Ministries and Departments at the Centre who are (or should be!) concerned with the wellbeing of artisans and their crafts. Those discussions on the CEIS and related experience have proved hugely significant. The CEIS premise (which echoed concerns expressed earlier in discussions with stakeholders leading up to the 12th Five-Year Plan) was accepted that national data currently available on the sector is dangerously inadequate. It does not reflect in any way the size and scale of the contribution which artisans make to the national economy. It was also accepted that unless this foundation of facts is rectified, policies and schemes as well as investment in the craft sector will continue to miss the bus. At the Planning Commission, two decisions were taken that will have far-reaching effect. One was to include crafts and artisans in the 6th Economic Census 2012. Another was to follow the Census with a ‘Satellite Account’ specific to the sector, which will provide details which cannot be captured in the Census 2012 focus on ‘commercial establishments’. Following these decisions, the Central Statistical Organization (CSO) and the Development Commissioner (Handicrafts) have looked at CCI for support on next steps. These have included the framing of guidelines and key questions to be used by field enumerators to correctly identify craft activities and artisans, development of tools and materials to be used in the Census process (including in the training of enumerators and their supervisors), a listing of activities and processes involved in 40 selected crafts identified by the DC(H), and linking these to established statistical codes used to classify commercial activities for Census purposes. The materials developed for the Census include generic and state-specific illustrated maps (developed by CCI with a team of researchers coordinated by Vidya and Gita), bringing together available information with the 560 crafts analysed in “Handmade in India” (Aditi and MP Ranjan, NID), using that publication as a key resource. PPTs are also being prepared to use field examples that can sensitise Census staff on the processes and activities involved in craft production, and the numbers/levels of artisans that need to be included in the understanding of ‘artisans’ and craft production. This has been a huge task, carried out by a small team at the CCI office in Chennai, with support from Manju and the Delhi Crafts Council office. The Census 2012 surveys commercial establishments, i.e. of products and services exchanged in the marketplace. The Census will provide broad indicators of the size and contribution of the craft/artisanal sector to the economy. It will include as ‘commercial establishments’ those who produce for market sale and where the activity of respondents represents more than 180 workdays in the year ---- thus excluding many activities in the sector that are beyond these limitations, such as seasonal work that does not extend over 180 days. These exclusions can be of critical importance to craft activists, as well as other details such as the contribution of women artisans, the invisible half of the sector. These important aspects will be covered by the more detailed analysis of the sector to be made through the ‘Satellite Account’ that is to follow the broad outlines revealed by the Census 2012. Hopefully, data from the Census will be enough to provide a wake-up call to the nation on the importance of crafts and artisans, and begin the process of reforming national policies and programmes. The crunching of data emerging from the Census 2012 will take time (60-100 days after the Census’ field process is completed). Therefore there will be ample opportunity to understand and use the data as it emerges so as to influence the Satellite Account process. Studies may be needed in preparation for the Satellite Account, and CCI intends to be an active partner in these preparations. Raghav, Manju and Gulshanji represented CCI at a May 4 meeting at the Planning Commission, where progress on Census/Satellite Account was reviewed. Of particular importance were two issues. One was the understanding that handloom production would be integrated with the Census’ understanding of ‘craft’. Another was the ‘guideline’ that has finally emerged to help describe the sector:
When enumerators from the national Economic Census 2012 knock on your door later this year, give them a special welcome. Census 2012 is going to be hugely significant for CCI and all crafts activist in the country --- and you may well be part of the preparation the enumerators will have gone through in order to do their job. That job is linked to CCI’s “Craft Economics & Impact Study” (CIES) which was completed last year (see Learning Together, Newsletter February 2012). The February Newsletter attempted to keep members informed of developments that have followed the submission of the CEIS to Government, soon after the Study was shared at the Business Meet last August. The Study and its recommendations were then reviewed by a partnership group which came together at the Crafts Museum in New Delhi in September. That was when members of the CEIS team (Raghav Rajagopalan, Gita Ram, Manju Nirula, Shikha Mukherji and I) met with key officials in the Planning Commission and at the Office of the Development Commissioner. CEIS had an impact. Early in March, the Commission called a series of meetings bringing together activists from civil society and a range of Ministries and Departments at the Centre who are (or should be!) concerned with the wellbeing of artisans and their crafts. Those discussions on the CEIS and related experience have proved hugely significant. The CEIS premise (which echoed concerns expressed earlier in discussions with stakeholders leading up to the 12th Five-Year Plan) was accepted that national data currently available on the sector is dangerously inadequate. It does not reflect in any way the size and scale of the contribution which artisans make to the national economy. It was also accepted that unless this foundation of facts is rectified, policies and schemes as well as investment in the craft sector will continue to miss the bus. At the Planning Commission, two decisions were taken that will have far-reaching effect. One was to include crafts and artisans in the 6th Economic Census 2012. Another was to follow the Census with a ‘Satellite Account’ specific to the sector, which will provide details which cannot be captured in the Census 2012 focus on ‘commercial establishments’. Following these decisions, the Central Statistical Organization (CSO) and the Development Commissioner (Handicrafts) have looked at CCI for support on next steps. These have included the framing of guidelines and key questions to be used by field enumerators to correctly identify craft activities and artisans, development of tools and materials to be used in the Census process (including in the training of enumerators and their supervisors), a listing of activities and processes involved in 40 selected crafts identified by the DC(H), and linking these to established statistical codes used to classify commercial activities for Census purposes. The materials developed for the Census include generic and state-specific illustrated maps (developed by CCI with a team of researchers coordinated by Vidya and Gita), bringing together available information with the 560 crafts analysed in “Handmade in India” (Aditi and MP Ranjan, NID), using that publication as a key resource. PPTs are also being prepared to use field examples that can sensitise Census staff on the processes and activities involved in craft production, and the numbers/levels of artisans that need to be included in the understanding of ‘artisans’ and craft production. This has been a huge task, carried out by a small team at the CCI office in Chennai, with support from Manju and the Delhi Crafts Council office. The Census 2012 surveys commercial establishments, i.e. of products and services exchanged in the marketplace. The Census will provide broad indicators of the size and contribution of the craft/artisanal sector to the economy. It will include as ‘commercial establishments’ those who produce for market sale and where the activity of respondents represents more than 180 workdays in the year ---- thus excluding many activities in the sector that are beyond these limitations, such as seasonal work that does not extend over 180 days. These exclusions can be of critical importance to craft activists, as well as other details such as the contribution of women artisans, the invisible half of the sector. These important aspects will be covered by the more detailed analysis of the sector to be made through the ‘Satellite Account’ that is to follow the broad outlines revealed by the Census 2012. Hopefully, data from the Census will be enough to provide a wake-up call to the nation on the importance of crafts and artisans, and begin the process of reforming national policies and programmes. The crunching of data emerging from the Census 2012 will take time (60-100 days after the Census’ field process is completed). Therefore there will be ample opportunity to understand and use the data as it emerges so as to influence the Satellite Account process. Studies may be needed in preparation for the Satellite Account, and CCI intends to be an active partner in these preparations. Raghav, Manju and Gulshanji represented CCI at a May 4 meeting at the Planning Commission, where progress on Census/Satellite Account was reviewed. Of particular importance were two issues. One was the understanding that handloom production would be integrated with the Census’ understanding of ‘craft’. Another was the ‘guideline’ that has finally emerged to help describe the sector:
“Handicrafts are items made by hand, mostly using simple tools. While they are predominantly made by hand, some machinery may also be used in the process. Skills are normally involved in such items/activities, but the extent thereof may vary from activity to activity. These items can be functional, artistic and/or traditional in nature”.
The challenge of ‘defining’ crafts and artisans has been a major one. A workable definition had emerged years ago at the time of the 8th Five Year Plan. The CEIS suggested a definition based on it. Things got complicated when the Supreme Court issued its own definition --- one that was directed at resolving export legalities, not at national data requirements! A ‘guideline’ was needed to address a concern within the Planning Commission and the Ministry of Statistics on distinguishing between crafts and other handmade products (papads, pickles, bricks, bidis etc) that Government does not want to include in its understanding of crafts/artisans. The matter came up again at a June 1 meeting at the CSO, attended by Gita, where the Census 2012 time-table was worked out. Field work will begins after the rains in October, continuing till August 2013. The important issue for CCI is to assist the training that will soon begin throughout the country to sensitise enumerators and supervisors to their field tasks. Details of the training process will emerge from a meeting in New Delhi in late June. Meanwhile, CCI has been asked to assist by identifying resource persons in every region who can be associated with the training process, sharing their knowledge of local crafts in the local language. The support of State Councils and other partners will thus be critical as so much now depends on successfully and quickly sensitizing and ‘educating’ enumerators and their supervisors to the sector. By the time this Newsletter appears, several readers will have been contacted and involved. The range of materials being developed in the course of these efforts will also be of great use and benefit to all craft activists. These can help ensure that future planning and field action are more focused. In addition, the Planning Commission is considering research studies that can support the proposed Satellite Account. It has also expressed its concern to better understand the problems and aspirations that are driving artisans today, most particularly those of the younger generation. Here again are opportunities for advocacy, and for the changes we have all felt so necessary in the way official agencies reach out (or fail to reach out) to artisans through existing schemes --- as well as on changes needed within the NGO sector. That, in a nutshell, is where we are today. So keep in mind all that is at stake when Census 2012 comes knocking at your door!
Education and Identity for Indigenous Oaxacan Artisans,
Issue #006, Autumn, 2020 ISSN: 2581- 9410 There are many ways in which education can support the personal and creative development of traditional artisans. In this article, we will focus on how these experiences can expand an artist’s view of himself in the world and the possibilities for innovation and self-expression. Education can remove perceptual limits created by limited knowledge of what exists beyond the village and imposed by outsiders’ ideas about indigenous artisans and how to define and evaluate their work. Oaxaca is known around the world as a center of folk art and craft. The state’s sixteen indigenous ethnic groups make up a significant portion of the population and the majority of traditional artisans. The three artisans whose stories we will examine here are all Zapotec and come from traditional villages. In Oaxaca, it is common for villages to be known for a specific craft, and in these villages one can find hundreds or even thousands of individuals who work in the medium and style for which the village is known. While there are subtle differences in the use of color and motif among the artisans of a village, the primary differences between artisans are found in the quality and subtlety of their work, rather than the use of dramatically different materials, techniques or motifs. A relatively small number of artisans have made the decision to innovate in ways that significantly and often dramatically distinguish their work from that of their neighbors. Based on the stories of our three artisans, I propose that access to education and direct interaction with artisans and buyers from outside the local environment can open the eyes of traditional artists to innovation that defines their personal styles. All three were trained in the basics of their craft by their parents and other elders of their communities. The work they produce today, while clearly based in the traditions and aesthetics of their communities, stands out from that of their neighbors in both quality and creativity. They have found ways to successfully develop a personal style and expression in their work, while remaining firmly rooted in the life and traditions of their communities. And they attribute this growth and development, at least in part, to participation in workshops and education programs outside their communities. Before we look at our three artisans and their work, it is important to set the context. In addition to the work created by traditional village artisans, Oaxaca is also known for graphics, painting and other “fine arts” and has produced such world-renowned artists as Rufino Tamayo, Francisco Toledo and Rodolfo Morales. We can understand the way different creative pursuits are viewed by looking at the language used to discuss them. Painting and graphic arts are referred to with the word “arte,” meaning art, while work in pottery, textiles, and other traditional media are called “artesania,” meaning crafts or “the work of artisans.” Historically, “arte” described objects that were purely decorative, while “artesania” described useful objects that were made by hand, originally for local use. However, under colonization, usage developed to reflect not a pure, logical distinction, but a division based also on the history of the artform and the people most associated with it. So “arte” expresses the European tradition of fine arts while “artesania” is seen as the continuation of local, indigenous traditions. Thus, even though the vast majority of work currently created by village artisans is purely decorative and produced only for an outside market, it is considered “artesania” rather than arte, and is viewed and evaluated accordingly. Most people see fine art and traditional craft differently. In fine arts, the focus is on the individual style of the creator and artistic innovation. No matter how competent one’s technique, one cannot become a great painter or sculptor without developing a personal style and aesthetic. In artesania/folk art/traditional craft, on the other hand, the focus is on the connection to tradition. What is important is that the creator is part of a community where others make similar items from similar materials, using similar techniques and motifs. The focus is on conserving cultural and artistic traditions, rather than on self-expression and innovation But how do we interpret this in the Oaxacan context, where the most appreciated and sought after folk art, while tied to earlier local traditions, is made purely for sale outside the community, was developed for export and in many cases involves objects developed in the second half of the 20th Century? While there have been weavers in Teotitlán for thousands of years, for centuries they wove simple blankets and serapes for the local market. Only in the mid-20th century did the Teotitecos start to weave brightly colored rugs and tapestries for sale in Mexico City, the US and beyond. The designs based on the stonework of the ruins of Mitla now considered “traditional” for weaving from Teotitlán were an innovation by the weaver Arnulfo Mendoza in the 1970’s. Today, local rugs and tapestries are rarely used in the village homes, even by those who make their livelihood producing them. Similarly, the highly ornamented black ceramic pieces for which the village of San Bartolo is known represent a tradition developed in the 1950’s in order to create a product attractive to tourists. Before that, local potters used the same clay to create pieces with a matte gray finish used to store consumable liquids. The focus was on making pieces that were durable and would not leak. Today, most pieces created in the workshops of the village will not hold water and are created for purely decorative use by outsiders. There is only a single potter in San Bartolo who routinely makes “apaztles” (large open bowls) for serving Tejate; ollas for storing water; bottles for storing mezcal and colanders for separating corn from its husk when preparing tortillas. So, why do people talk about these items as if they represent ancient traditions and why do those who have set themselves up as arbiters see innovation as a problem, rather than a strength? Based on conversations with curators, funders and other self-appointed “specialists” in Oaxacan craft or folk art, it seems that a major factor is that these people, most of whom come from outside Oaxaca and virtually all of whom are of predominantly European descent, look at art and craft created by indigenous people though a strongly colonial lens that intentionally supports what is perceived as perpetuating tradition and hinders or devalues what is seen as breaking tradition. When I told the director of a group based in America that supports exhibitions of “traditional” Oaxacan folk art, that I was curating an exhibit focusing on innovation in Oaxacan folk art, she said, “Innovation can be a slippery slope.” When I asked why, she answered, “Because the artists don’t always know where to stop.” I wondered why she thought she had the right to decide how much innovation was too much and to believe that traditional artisans are not able to make that decision for themselves. It seems that that well-educated, middle- and upper-class people of European descent from Mexico, the United States and elsewhere have a vested interest in supporting the manufacture of items that they believe are representative of ancient traditions. They want to believe that the indigenous communities in which folk art and craft are made somehow represent an earlier period in human development and that by visiting these communities they can experience something about their own past. This creates a value system that promotes connections to community and past and censors “too much” individual style or self-expression – the very things that are most valued among artists of European descent and those who work in the media and styles derived from European fine arts. The individuals who support this perspective say that their goal is to keep ancient traditions alive. Unfortunately, they either do not realize that many of the traditions they are supporting are relatively recent innovations developed purely in response to outside markets, or perhaps they simply adjust reality to fit what they want to believe. And they never seem to ask why or for whom traditions should be preserved? They say they want to “help the (poor) artisans,” but rarely actually ask artisans what they want or what would be helpful to them and their communities. They seem to think that artisans can make beautiful things but cannot determine what they want and need, what fits within the boundaries of their traditions, or when it is appropriate for them to work outside those boundaries. The creativity of indigenous people is lauded and coveted, but it is assumed that they are somehow less thoughtful or rational and thus unable to determine what serves them. This perspective also wants to believe that while European culture developed, indigenous people are somehow frozen in time. The reality is that in living traditions, innovation and tradition are two sides of a single coin. The traditions create the framework that defines what is possible while innovation allows each maker to respond to changes in the availability of materials, changes in the market and fashion, personal taste and choice, and other factors that are ever changing. And the only valid arbiters of the appropriate boundaries for a living tradition are those who work in that tradition and members of their communities. I believe that the colonial perspective on indigenous art and craft has been a major damper on the development of truly innovative work as those who are drawn to innovation and personal expression have had to fight to get their work seen and promoted. This is finally changing as Oaxacan artists are finding markets for their work among buyers who value the creative, but with most exhibits and publications on Oaxacan art still focusing on what they understand as traditional, this is an ongoing challenge. Now let’s consider our three artisans and the role education played in their professional development. Moises Martinez Velasquez grew up in San Pedro Cajonos, one of the few Oaxacan villages where the tradition of raising silkworms and processing the silk they produce has been kept alive. Moises learned the basics of the process from his elders and is now the leader of a 13-member family cooperative. When Moises was learning to produce silk textiles, the only natural dyes used in the village were Mexican Marigold and Cochineal. All the garments were woven with undyed yarn and some garments were dyed red when they were removed from the loom. At first, the work done by Moises and his family closely resembled that made by other producers in the region.
Moises Martinez Velasquez Huipil. Handspun silk dyed with indigo
Then Moises was invited to a natural dye workshop, hosted by the Textile Museum of Oaxaca and everything changed. The workshop was taught by a traditional dyer from another Oaxacan village, who not only demonstrated how to achieve a wide range of tones with Cochineal by varying the ph of the dye bath, but also demonstrated the use of Indigo, which added blue, purple and green to Moises’ range. Because the workshop focused on wool, Moises had to adapt the recipes he learned to work on silk. After extensive experimentation, he developed a palette that includes many shades of blue, a wide range of pinks, fuchsias, and reds made with cochineal, golden yellows made with Mexican Marigold, and a range of greens and purples created by dyeing with indigo over shades created with cochineal and marigold. The new colors and increased variety led to an immediate increase in sales of the family’s work. From this, Moises learned that providing options beyond those that were considered traditional expanded the market and provided opportunities for increased income. Because Moises took the time and effort to experiment and find the best ways to create a wide range of rich colors on silk, the family’s work stands out from other silk textiles made in the region, whose color range is more limited and less saturated. During this period, Moises also came to see himself as a dyer and to develop pride in his ability to produce colors that were not seen elsewhere.
Moises Martinez Velasquez, Scarf. Handspun silk. Warp ikat dyed with cochineal
Moises Martinez Velasquez, Huipil. Silk dyed with Mexican marigold, indigo and cochineal
Moises Martinez Velasquez, Huipil. Silk dyed with Mexican marigold, indigo and cochineal
Over several years, Moises also learned to experiment with different ways of applying the dyes in order to create pattern. He saw how dyeing yarn prior to weaving allowed for the creation of multi-colored garments and started experimenting with stripes and plaids in various color combinations. He also participated in ikat workshops at the Textile Museum and learned to adapt the techniques he learned to his family’s work and market. From the first experiments with ikat, he found that while the pieces take longer to produce, they sell very quickly, even at a higher price. Now, most pieces produced by the family are still dyed a single color, but they routinely produce pieces with yarn-dyed stripes and more complex patterns, created with ikat. This expanded range has caught the eye of buyers and collectors not only in Oaxaca, but also at national craft fairs in Mexico and international events in the US. The work created by Moises and his family is now considered by most experts to be the most interesting and highest quality silk created in Oaxaca.
Juan Carlos Contreras Sosa grew up in a textile producing family in Teotitlán del Valle. Like most weavers in the village, he first learned to weave rugs when he was quite young. Juan Carlos grew up during a period when natural dyeing was quite limited in Teotitlán, so he was not initially impressed by the options the traditional natural dyes offered and was not particularly interested in working with dyes.
Juan Carlos Contreras Sosa, Scarves. Merino and silk dyed with indigo
Juan Carlos Contreras Sosa, Scarf. 100% merino wool dyed with indigo and cochineal.
When Juan Carlos joined a textile collective in the village, he was invited to participate in a workshop on natural dyes, led by a teacher from outside Mexico. This workshop opened his eyes to the range of colors and shades that can be created with a limited number of dyes and got him more excited about the possibilities. He participated in a workshop on growing dye plants that included discussions of how to pick seeds, prepare the earth, plant the seeds, tend to the plants and harvest the dye material. The workshop also included excursions outside Oaxaca to the Museo del Agua in the state of Puebla and an Eco Reserve in the state of Veracruz. Participation in this workshop gave Juan Carlos a vision of possibilities he had never considered. As he relates, most people in the village complete no more than an elementary school education and do not travel far from the village, so their vision is somewhat limited. After participation in these workshops, Juan Carlos began to grow dye plants on his property in the village and also did extensive experimentation with both the dyes that can be collected locally and with Indigo and Cochineal, which he buys in Oaxaca. As he grew more adept in working with the dyes, the range and subtlety of Juan Carlos’ palette grew, along with his interest in working with the dyes. Within a couple of years, he was doing all the dyeing not only for his own weaving, but also for the weaving done by other members of his family.
Juan Carlos Contreras Sosa, Scarves. Merino dyed with indigo and cochineal and undyed alpaca
Juan Carlos Contreras Sosa, Scarves. Merino, alpaca and silk dyed with Mexican marigold, cochineal and indigo
In addition to workshops on dyes and dye techniques, Juan Carlos participated in a number of workshops on design, which he says expanded his vision of both how to combine colors and patterns and how to think about design as part of a project. He started working with 4-harness looms that allow for more complex patterns to be woven without the need for the counting of warp threads or the manipulation of the weft. Through experimentation, he became adept at working with finer yarns and creating cloth that is an appropriate weight for scarves, shawls and other garments. He also developed designs for a laptop bag and other items no one else was making locally. Juan Carlos’ experimentation with natural dyes allows him to use a wide range of rich tones and his experimentation with design has led to a plethora of color combinations, stripes and patterns, thus making his work unique in the village. When he realized that buyers from outside Oaxaca were put off by the texture of the wool available on the local market, he started to seek out yarns made from softer, higher quality wool and has also worked with combinations of wool with alpaca and or silk. At first, he was concerned that the high cost of the raw materials would make these items hard to sell, but he found that he could successfully price the higher quality items to cover his material costs and still pay himself more for his work. The combination of his use of color and design along with the high quality of the materials he is using has placed his work in a category of its own.
Carlomagno, The Drunks
Carlomagno, Death’s Cart
Carlomagno Pedro Martinez grew up in a family of potters in San Bartolo Coyotepéc. His parents taught him and his siblings to work with clay when they were quite young. At 18, Carlomagno went to study at the Taller Rufino Tamayo in the city of Oaxaca. The curriculum of the Taller intentionally blurs the boundaries between “art” and “craft” and teaches the students that whatever their medium, they can use their creativity to expand boundaries and express themselves. Once Carlomagno began to conceive of himself as an artist and his work as art, everything changed. He moved away from making the vessels traditionally created by potters in the village and started creating figurative and narrative pieces based on prehispanic myths and legends and local Zapotec culture, often with social and political messages. When he first moved in this direction, some thought Carlomagno was abandoning the tradition, but others recognized that his work, which still used the local clay and traditional methods of working and firing, was simply the latest in many innovations that had already taken place in the village. Carlomagno quickly got the attention of galleries and museums around Mexico and beyond. This led to opportunities for travel to Mexico City, the US and Europe where he saw his work exhibited alongside that of other artists and came to truly accept his role. He says that this travel not only cemented his identity as an artist, but also allowed him exposure to important works of art from many traditions and cultures and from many time periods, thus expanding his vision of what is possible
Carlomagno, The Dandy
Carlomagno, Tribute to my Dog Courage
In addition to pursuing his own career as an artist, Carlomagno has served for many years as director of the Museo Estatal de Arte Popular de Oaxaca (The State Folk Art Museum of Oaxaca.) In his role as museum director, he has organized many exhibits that show the range of work currently coming from the workshops of Oaxaca, the most innovative as well as the most traditional, and has also offered a range of workshops to help local artists and artisans expand their vision, learn new techniques and explore artistic possibilities. In this way, he shares his own expanded vision of what indigenous artists from Oaxaca can attain and supports the development of new generations of artists and craftsmen.
These three examples demonstrate how education can help indigenous artisans to explore options they may not see in their villages and to determine the direction they want to take with their work, based on their own inspiration, desires and values. Education took these artists beyond the limited normative colonial rhetoric that seeks to define and limit what is appropriate for indigenous people to create.
Photo Credits
All photos are by the artists
Issue #006, Autumn, 2020 ISSN: 2581- 9410 There are many ways in which education can support the personal and creative development of traditional artisans. In this article, we will focus on how these experiences can expand an artist’s view of himself in the world and the possibilities for innovation and self-expression. Education can remove perceptual limits created by limited knowledge of what exists beyond the village and imposed by outsiders’ ideas about indigenous artisans and how to define and evaluate their work. Oaxaca is known around the world as a center of folk art and craft. The state’s sixteen indigenous ethnic groups make up a significant portion of the population and the majority of traditional artisans. The three artisans whose stories we will examine here are all Zapotec and come from traditional villages. In Oaxaca, it is common for villages to be known for a specific craft, and in these villages one can find hundreds or even thousands of individuals who work in the medium and style for which the village is known. While there are subtle differences in the use of color and motif among the artisans of a village, the primary differences between artisans are found in the quality and subtlety of their work, rather than the use of dramatically different materials, techniques or motifs. A relatively small number of artisans have made the decision to innovate in ways that significantly and often dramatically distinguish their work from that of their neighbors. Based on the stories of our three artisans, I propose that access to education and direct interaction with artisans and buyers from outside the local environment can open the eyes of traditional artists to innovation that defines their personal styles. All three were trained in the basics of their craft by their parents and other elders of their communities. The work they produce today, while clearly based in the traditions and aesthetics of their communities, stands out from that of their neighbors in both quality and creativity. They have found ways to successfully develop a personal style and expression in their work, while remaining firmly rooted in the life and traditions of their communities. And they attribute this growth and development, at least in part, to participation in workshops and education programs outside their communities. Before we look at our three artisans and their work, it is important to set the context. In addition to the work created by traditional village artisans, Oaxaca is also known for graphics, painting and other “fine arts” and has produced such world-renowned artists as Rufino Tamayo, Francisco Toledo and Rodolfo Morales. We can understand the way different creative pursuits are viewed by looking at the language used to discuss them. Painting and graphic arts are referred to with the word “arte,” meaning art, while work in pottery, textiles, and other traditional media are called “artesania,” meaning crafts or “the work of artisans.” Historically, “arte” described objects that were purely decorative, while “artesania” described useful objects that were made by hand, originally for local use. However, under colonization, usage developed to reflect not a pure, logical distinction, but a division based also on the history of the artform and the people most associated with it. So “arte” expresses the European tradition of fine arts while “artesania” is seen as the continuation of local, indigenous traditions. Thus, even though the vast majority of work currently created by village artisans is purely decorative and produced only for an outside market, it is considered “artesania” rather than arte, and is viewed and evaluated accordingly. Most people see fine art and traditional craft differently. In fine arts, the focus is on the individual style of the creator and artistic innovation. No matter how competent one’s technique, one cannot become a great painter or sculptor without developing a personal style and aesthetic. In artesania/folk art/traditional craft, on the other hand, the focus is on the connection to tradition. What is important is that the creator is part of a community where others make similar items from similar materials, using similar techniques and motifs. The focus is on conserving cultural and artistic traditions, rather than on self-expression and innovation But how do we interpret this in the Oaxacan context, where the most appreciated and sought after folk art, while tied to earlier local traditions, is made purely for sale outside the community, was developed for export and in many cases involves objects developed in the second half of the 20th Century? While there have been weavers in Teotitlán for thousands of years, for centuries they wove simple blankets and serapes for the local market. Only in the mid-20th century did the Teotitecos start to weave brightly colored rugs and tapestries for sale in Mexico City, the US and beyond. The designs based on the stonework of the ruins of Mitla now considered “traditional” for weaving from Teotitlán were an innovation by the weaver Arnulfo Mendoza in the 1970’s. Today, local rugs and tapestries are rarely used in the village homes, even by those who make their livelihood producing them. Similarly, the highly ornamented black ceramic pieces for which the village of San Bartolo is known represent a tradition developed in the 1950’s in order to create a product attractive to tourists. Before that, local potters used the same clay to create pieces with a matte gray finish used to store consumable liquids. The focus was on making pieces that were durable and would not leak. Today, most pieces created in the workshops of the village will not hold water and are created for purely decorative use by outsiders. There is only a single potter in San Bartolo who routinely makes “apaztles” (large open bowls) for serving Tejate; ollas for storing water; bottles for storing mezcal and colanders for separating corn from its husk when preparing tortillas. So, why do people talk about these items as if they represent ancient traditions and why do those who have set themselves up as arbiters see innovation as a problem, rather than a strength? Based on conversations with curators, funders and other self-appointed “specialists” in Oaxacan craft or folk art, it seems that a major factor is that these people, most of whom come from outside Oaxaca and virtually all of whom are of predominantly European descent, look at art and craft created by indigenous people though a strongly colonial lens that intentionally supports what is perceived as perpetuating tradition and hinders or devalues what is seen as breaking tradition. When I told the director of a group based in America that supports exhibitions of “traditional” Oaxacan folk art, that I was curating an exhibit focusing on innovation in Oaxacan folk art, she said, “Innovation can be a slippery slope.” When I asked why, she answered, “Because the artists don’t always know where to stop.” I wondered why she thought she had the right to decide how much innovation was too much and to believe that traditional artisans are not able to make that decision for themselves. It seems that that well-educated, middle- and upper-class people of European descent from Mexico, the United States and elsewhere have a vested interest in supporting the manufacture of items that they believe are representative of ancient traditions. They want to believe that the indigenous communities in which folk art and craft are made somehow represent an earlier period in human development and that by visiting these communities they can experience something about their own past. This creates a value system that promotes connections to community and past and censors “too much” individual style or self-expression – the very things that are most valued among artists of European descent and those who work in the media and styles derived from European fine arts. The individuals who support this perspective say that their goal is to keep ancient traditions alive. Unfortunately, they either do not realize that many of the traditions they are supporting are relatively recent innovations developed purely in response to outside markets, or perhaps they simply adjust reality to fit what they want to believe. And they never seem to ask why or for whom traditions should be preserved? They say they want to “help the (poor) artisans,” but rarely actually ask artisans what they want or what would be helpful to them and their communities. They seem to think that artisans can make beautiful things but cannot determine what they want and need, what fits within the boundaries of their traditions, or when it is appropriate for them to work outside those boundaries. The creativity of indigenous people is lauded and coveted, but it is assumed that they are somehow less thoughtful or rational and thus unable to determine what serves them. This perspective also wants to believe that while European culture developed, indigenous people are somehow frozen in time. The reality is that in living traditions, innovation and tradition are two sides of a single coin. The traditions create the framework that defines what is possible while innovation allows each maker to respond to changes in the availability of materials, changes in the market and fashion, personal taste and choice, and other factors that are ever changing. And the only valid arbiters of the appropriate boundaries for a living tradition are those who work in that tradition and members of their communities. I believe that the colonial perspective on indigenous art and craft has been a major damper on the development of truly innovative work as those who are drawn to innovation and personal expression have had to fight to get their work seen and promoted. This is finally changing as Oaxacan artists are finding markets for their work among buyers who value the creative, but with most exhibits and publications on Oaxacan art still focusing on what they understand as traditional, this is an ongoing challenge. Now let’s consider our three artisans and the role education played in their professional development. Moises Martinez Velasquez grew up in San Pedro Cajonos, one of the few Oaxacan villages where the tradition of raising silkworms and processing the silk they produce has been kept alive. Moises learned the basics of the process from his elders and is now the leader of a 13-member family cooperative. When Moises was learning to produce silk textiles, the only natural dyes used in the village were Mexican Marigold and Cochineal. All the garments were woven with undyed yarn and some garments were dyed red when they were removed from the loom. At first, the work done by Moises and his family closely resembled that made by other producers in the region.
Moises Martinez Velasquez Huipil. Handspun silk dyed with indigo
Then Moises was invited to a natural dye workshop, hosted by the Textile Museum of Oaxaca and everything changed. The workshop was taught by a traditional dyer from another Oaxacan village, who not only demonstrated how to achieve a wide range of tones with Cochineal by varying the ph of the dye bath, but also demonstrated the use of Indigo, which added blue, purple and green to Moises’ range. Because the workshop focused on wool, Moises had to adapt the recipes he learned to work on silk. After extensive experimentation, he developed a palette that includes many shades of blue, a wide range of pinks, fuchsias, and reds made with cochineal, golden yellows made with Mexican Marigold, and a range of greens and purples created by dyeing with indigo over shades created with cochineal and marigold. The new colors and increased variety led to an immediate increase in sales of the family’s work. From this, Moises learned that providing options beyond those that were considered traditional expanded the market and provided opportunities for increased income. Because Moises took the time and effort to experiment and find the best ways to create a wide range of rich colors on silk, the family’s work stands out from other silk textiles made in the region, whose color range is more limited and less saturated. During this period, Moises also came to see himself as a dyer and to develop pride in his ability to produce colors that were not seen elsewhere.
Moises Martinez Velasquez, Scarf. Handspun silk. Warp ikat dyed with cochineal
Moises Martinez Velasquez, Huipil. Silk dyed with Mexican marigold, indigo and cochineal
Moises Martinez Velasquez, Huipil. Silk dyed with Mexican marigold, indigo and cochineal
Over several years, Moises also learned to experiment with different ways of applying the dyes in order to create pattern. He saw how dyeing yarn prior to weaving allowed for the creation of multi-colored garments and started experimenting with stripes and plaids in various color combinations. He also participated in ikat workshops at the Textile Museum and learned to adapt the techniques he learned to his family’s work and market. From the first experiments with ikat, he found that while the pieces take longer to produce, they sell very quickly, even at a higher price. Now, most pieces produced by the family are still dyed a single color, but they routinely produce pieces with yarn-dyed stripes and more complex patterns, created with ikat. This expanded range has caught the eye of buyers and collectors not only in Oaxaca, but also at national craft fairs in Mexico and international events in the US. The work created by Moises and his family is now considered by most experts to be the most interesting and highest quality silk created in Oaxaca.
Juan Carlos Contreras Sosa grew up in a textile producing family in Teotitlán del Valle. Like most weavers in the village, he first learned to weave rugs when he was quite young. Juan Carlos grew up during a period when natural dyeing was quite limited in Teotitlán, so he was not initially impressed by the options the traditional natural dyes offered and was not particularly interested in working with dyes.
Juan Carlos Contreras Sosa, Scarves. Merino and silk dyed with indigo
Juan Carlos Contreras Sosa, Scarf. 100% merino wool dyed with indigo and cochineal.
When Juan Carlos joined a textile collective in the village, he was invited to participate in a workshop on natural dyes, led by a teacher from outside Mexico. This workshop opened his eyes to the range of colors and shades that can be created with a limited number of dyes and got him more excited about the possibilities. He participated in a workshop on growing dye plants that included discussions of how to pick seeds, prepare the earth, plant the seeds, tend to the plants and harvest the dye material. The workshop also included excursions outside Oaxaca to the Museo del Agua in the state of Puebla and an Eco Reserve in the state of Veracruz. Participation in this workshop gave Juan Carlos a vision of possibilities he had never considered. As he relates, most people in the village complete no more than an elementary school education and do not travel far from the village, so their vision is somewhat limited. After participation in these workshops, Juan Carlos began to grow dye plants on his property in the village and also did extensive experimentation with both the dyes that can be collected locally and with Indigo and Cochineal, which he buys in Oaxaca. As he grew more adept in working with the dyes, the range and subtlety of Juan Carlos’ palette grew, along with his interest in working with the dyes. Within a couple of years, he was doing all the dyeing not only for his own weaving, but also for the weaving done by other members of his family.
Juan Carlos Contreras Sosa, Scarves. Merino dyed with indigo and cochineal and undyed alpaca
Juan Carlos Contreras Sosa, Scarves. Merino, alpaca and silk dyed with Mexican marigold, cochineal and indigo
In addition to workshops on dyes and dye techniques, Juan Carlos participated in a number of workshops on design, which he says expanded his vision of both how to combine colors and patterns and how to think about design as part of a project. He started working with 4-harness looms that allow for more complex patterns to be woven without the need for the counting of warp threads or the manipulation of the weft. Through experimentation, he became adept at working with finer yarns and creating cloth that is an appropriate weight for scarves, shawls and other garments. He also developed designs for a laptop bag and other items no one else was making locally. Juan Carlos’ experimentation with natural dyes allows him to use a wide range of rich tones and his experimentation with design has led to a plethora of color combinations, stripes and patterns, thus making his work unique in the village. When he realized that buyers from outside Oaxaca were put off by the texture of the wool available on the local market, he started to seek out yarns made from softer, higher quality wool and has also worked with combinations of wool with alpaca and or silk. At first, he was concerned that the high cost of the raw materials would make these items hard to sell, but he found that he could successfully price the higher quality items to cover his material costs and still pay himself more for his work. The combination of his use of color and design along with the high quality of the materials he is using has placed his work in a category of its own.
Carlomagno, The Drunks
Carlomagno, Death’s Cart
Carlomagno Pedro Martinez grew up in a family of potters in San Bartolo Coyotepéc. His parents taught him and his siblings to work with clay when they were quite young. At 18, Carlomagno went to study at the Taller Rufino Tamayo in the city of Oaxaca. The curriculum of the Taller intentionally blurs the boundaries between “art” and “craft” and teaches the students that whatever their medium, they can use their creativity to expand boundaries and express themselves. Once Carlomagno began to conceive of himself as an artist and his work as art, everything changed. He moved away from making the vessels traditionally created by potters in the village and started creating figurative and narrative pieces based on prehispanic myths and legends and local Zapotec culture, often with social and political messages. When he first moved in this direction, some thought Carlomagno was abandoning the tradition, but others recognized that his work, which still used the local clay and traditional methods of working and firing, was simply the latest in many innovations that had already taken place in the village. Carlomagno quickly got the attention of galleries and museums around Mexico and beyond. This led to opportunities for travel to Mexico City, the US and Europe where he saw his work exhibited alongside that of other artists and came to truly accept his role. He says that this travel not only cemented his identity as an artist, but also allowed him exposure to important works of art from many traditions and cultures and from many time periods, thus expanding his vision of what is possible
Carlomagno, The Dandy
Carlomagno, Tribute to my Dog Courage
In addition to pursuing his own career as an artist, Carlomagno has served for many years as director of the Museo Estatal de Arte Popular de Oaxaca (The State Folk Art Museum of Oaxaca.) In his role as museum director, he has organized many exhibits that show the range of work currently coming from the workshops of Oaxaca, the most innovative as well as the most traditional, and has also offered a range of workshops to help local artists and artisans expand their vision, learn new techniques and explore artistic possibilities. In this way, he shares his own expanded vision of what indigenous artists from Oaxaca can attain and supports the development of new generations of artists and craftsmen.
These three examples demonstrate how education can help indigenous artisans to explore options they may not see in their villages and to determine the direction they want to take with their work, based on their own inspiration, desires and values. Education took these artists beyond the limited normative colonial rhetoric that seeks to define and limit what is appropriate for indigenous people to create.
Photo Credits
All photos are by the artists
Education for Artisans: Re-Visioning Handloom in an Industrial World,
What's wrong with this picture? This is a game we played as children in American elementary school. It teaches observation and analysis. On the train to Bagalkot, Karnataka, I suddenly noticed that my white cotton/polyester bed sheet was proudly labeled with a "Handloom" tag… and I wondered, what's wrong with this picture? I am relatively new to handloom, though I have spent decades working with textiles in India. After one decade of working with hand embroidery artisans of Kutch, I began a design education program for artisans. That is when I expanded to hand weaving and printing. And after directing that program for eight years, I expanded it to share what we had learned and achieved with artisans in regions less exposed than Kutch. Kutch is in many ways a fortunate island. Many hand weavers there today earn a viable living, and those who have graduated from our design education program have excelled in the better urban markets in India and abroad. In Karnataka, the picture of the majority of hand weavers in India became clearer. Here, I saw men working for minimal wages under "Master Weavers," from whom they had borrowed more than they would ever be able to pay back at those wages. Ilkal sari weavers were being convinced to leave their traditional handlooms and use jacquard looms to make copies of Varanasi textiles. Many had power looms back to back with their handlooms as well. In some villages it was hard to find even one handloom. And that loom was devoted to plain white cotton/polyester yardage destined to be government school uniforms. What is wrong with this picture? I wondered again. It seemed that in this industrial age handloom was understood as an inferior means of production, which could only survive if propped up with subsidy and mandated orders for railway sheets and school uniform yardage. If we instead understand hand craft as cultural heritage, a unique creation, art rather than industry, another approach emerges. That is the basis of the design education program I began. In six intense two-week courses spread over a year, we teach weavers along with printers and dyers to know and appreciate the design of their traditions, and to recognize aspects of their traditions that make them unique. Then we teach them to innovate. Today, the program is operated by Somaiya Kala Vidya, an institute of education for artisans. Its strengths are local orientation and sustained input. We teach in local languages, drawing from local traditions. Schedules accommodate cultural practices. We make it possible for artisans to attend courses, and easy for them to understand the material. Courses are taught by visiting faculty- professional design educators, in tandem with Somaiya Kala Vidya faculty who are artisans who have graduated from the program. Between courses, the SKV faculty members visit students individually in their homes to insure that they have understood course material and can implement it in practical homework assignments. The year-long duration of the course insures that students learn, retain and use what is taught. Artisan students learn that there are unlimited ways to innovate within their traditions, and to find their own unique interpretations. They look beyond technique to using technique in visual language. Impressive, among 145 design graduates, there has been virtually no duplication. After operating the design course for eight years, I realized that to reap full economic benefit, a bit of business was also needed. So in 2014, I started a course in Business and Management for Artisans. The key outcomes of that year-long course are ownership, and dramatically increased capacity. Both courses end in public events. A fashion show held in Kutch compels the public to value craft and artisans in other ways. Student- planned and implemented exhibitions in prestigious venues in metro cities provide immediate confirmation of increased value. The proof of the impact of education for artisans is in the lives of the artisans. 100% of graduates assert that their confidence has increased. Artisan designers have increased their incomes from 10 to 600%. They have also enjoyed new opportunities, such as teaching workshops. Significantly, when asked when they felt their craft was most valued, several artisans responded, "When we are teaching." In the pre-industrial age, handloom was the only means of making cloth. Today, we have powerlooms and textile mills. These were invented to serve the need for industrial production of cloth, for masses of people, for everyday use, for functional fabrics such as plain white cotton polyester yardage for school uniforms and bed sheets for the railways. And in terms of massive scale needs, handlooms are inferior means of production. But handloom has capabilities and qualities that can serve other markets. There is a growing market for textiles that satisfy more than basic needs. A study of craft markets done by the Craft Council of England in 2010 found, first, that in England craft consumption is significant. 63% of the population consumes £913m/ of craft a year. English consumers value craft in terms of authenticity, quality, workmanship, and personal touch. Defining cultural consumption, the report indicates that consumer demand has shifted towards value-centered products that meet emotional as well as functional needs. Although the report details consumers in England, it can be conjectured that a similar motivation drives an equally significant consumption of craft in the urban metros of India. People buy craft as a unique and also ethical route for consuming objects. They consider craft buying as an experience, and even a new way of signaling connoisseurship. Handloom that can recognize the motivation of this market and meet it can succeed without trying to compete with industrial weaving. When our design and business education programs had clearly succeeded in Kutch, we began Artisan to Artisan outreach, engaging our graduates to mentor and co-design with artisans in less exposed regions. In our pilot project, Bhujodi to Bagalkot, nine weavers have gone from indentured job workers to independent entrepreneurs in just three years. Over a two year period, they completed a compressed version of our design course curriculum, and they have successfully sold saris in good markets in Mumbai, Delhi, Chennai and Bangalore. A few days ago, we reviewed the current Business and Management for Artisans students' final samples. Rajeshbhai, a weaver from Bhujodi, showed his collection and production plan. He detailed the number of warps he would devote to stoles. "But," he clarified, "I'm not going to do one warp all the same; each stole will have a variation." He has understood the essence and the value of hand work. And, he has learned to use design. Any element of his tradition can be varied in unlimited ways to make an innovation. But only the artisan knows in his or her heart whether the innovation retains the essential character of that tradition. That is why artisans designing is critical not only to re-valuing handloom but also to the preservation of traditions.
What's wrong with this picture? This is a game we played as children in American elementary school. It teaches observation and analysis. On the train to Bagalkot, Karnataka, I suddenly noticed that my white cotton/polyester bed sheet was proudly labeled with a "Handloom" tag… and I wondered, what's wrong with this picture? I am relatively new to handloom, though I have spent decades working with textiles in India. After one decade of working with hand embroidery artisans of Kutch, I began a design education program for artisans. That is when I expanded to hand weaving and printing. And after directing that program for eight years, I expanded it to share what we had learned and achieved with artisans in regions less exposed than Kutch. Kutch is in many ways a fortunate island. Many hand weavers there today earn a viable living, and those who have graduated from our design education program have excelled in the better urban markets in India and abroad. In Karnataka, the picture of the majority of hand weavers in India became clearer. Here, I saw men working for minimal wages under "Master Weavers," from whom they had borrowed more than they would ever be able to pay back at those wages. Ilkal sari weavers were being convinced to leave their traditional handlooms and use jacquard looms to make copies of Varanasi textiles. Many had power looms back to back with their handlooms as well. In some villages it was hard to find even one handloom. And that loom was devoted to plain white cotton/polyester yardage destined to be government school uniforms. What is wrong with this picture? I wondered again. It seemed that in this industrial age handloom was understood as an inferior means of production, which could only survive if propped up with subsidy and mandated orders for railway sheets and school uniform yardage. If we instead understand hand craft as cultural heritage, a unique creation, art rather than industry, another approach emerges. That is the basis of the design education program I began. In six intense two-week courses spread over a year, we teach weavers along with printers and dyers to know and appreciate the design of their traditions, and to recognize aspects of their traditions that make them unique. Then we teach them to innovate. Today, the program is operated by Somaiya Kala Vidya, an institute of education for artisans. Its strengths are local orientation and sustained input. We teach in local languages, drawing from local traditions. Schedules accommodate cultural practices. We make it possible for artisans to attend courses, and easy for them to understand the material. Courses are taught by visiting faculty- professional design educators, in tandem with Somaiya Kala Vidya faculty who are artisans who have graduated from the program. Between courses, the SKV faculty members visit students individually in their homes to insure that they have understood course material and can implement it in practical homework assignments. The year-long duration of the course insures that students learn, retain and use what is taught. Artisan students learn that there are unlimited ways to innovate within their traditions, and to find their own unique interpretations. They look beyond technique to using technique in visual language. Impressive, among 145 design graduates, there has been virtually no duplication. After operating the design course for eight years, I realized that to reap full economic benefit, a bit of business was also needed. So in 2014, I started a course in Business and Management for Artisans. The key outcomes of that year-long course are ownership, and dramatically increased capacity. Both courses end in public events. A fashion show held in Kutch compels the public to value craft and artisans in other ways. Student- planned and implemented exhibitions in prestigious venues in metro cities provide immediate confirmation of increased value. The proof of the impact of education for artisans is in the lives of the artisans. 100% of graduates assert that their confidence has increased. Artisan designers have increased their incomes from 10 to 600%. They have also enjoyed new opportunities, such as teaching workshops. Significantly, when asked when they felt their craft was most valued, several artisans responded, "When we are teaching." In the pre-industrial age, handloom was the only means of making cloth. Today, we have powerlooms and textile mills. These were invented to serve the need for industrial production of cloth, for masses of people, for everyday use, for functional fabrics such as plain white cotton polyester yardage for school uniforms and bed sheets for the railways. And in terms of massive scale needs, handlooms are inferior means of production. But handloom has capabilities and qualities that can serve other markets. There is a growing market for textiles that satisfy more than basic needs. A study of craft markets done by the Craft Council of England in 2010 found, first, that in England craft consumption is significant. 63% of the population consumes £913m/ of craft a year. English consumers value craft in terms of authenticity, quality, workmanship, and personal touch. Defining cultural consumption, the report indicates that consumer demand has shifted towards value-centered products that meet emotional as well as functional needs. Although the report details consumers in England, it can be conjectured that a similar motivation drives an equally significant consumption of craft in the urban metros of India. People buy craft as a unique and also ethical route for consuming objects. They consider craft buying as an experience, and even a new way of signaling connoisseurship. Handloom that can recognize the motivation of this market and meet it can succeed without trying to compete with industrial weaving. When our design and business education programs had clearly succeeded in Kutch, we began Artisan to Artisan outreach, engaging our graduates to mentor and co-design with artisans in less exposed regions. In our pilot project, Bhujodi to Bagalkot, nine weavers have gone from indentured job workers to independent entrepreneurs in just three years. Over a two year period, they completed a compressed version of our design course curriculum, and they have successfully sold saris in good markets in Mumbai, Delhi, Chennai and Bangalore. A few days ago, we reviewed the current Business and Management for Artisans students' final samples. Rajeshbhai, a weaver from Bhujodi, showed his collection and production plan. He detailed the number of warps he would devote to stoles. "But," he clarified, "I'm not going to do one warp all the same; each stole will have a variation." He has understood the essence and the value of hand work. And, he has learned to use design. Any element of his tradition can be varied in unlimited ways to make an innovation. But only the artisan knows in his or her heart whether the innovation retains the essential character of that tradition. That is why artisans designing is critical not only to re-valuing handloom but also to the preservation of traditions.
Embracing the Past, Weaving the Future, A Journey of Upcycling and Sustainability through Fibres
Issue #10, 2023 ISSN: 2581- 9410 As a passionate practitioner in the world of textiles, I have always been captivated by the transformative power of fibres. To me, they are not merely the building blocks of fabric; they represent the essence of creation. Without the basic raw material – the fibre – no tangible product can ever come to life. It is through this lens that I have explored the realm of upcycling, turning scrap fabrics into fashion and utility items with a purpose.
In the mainstream, the term "fibre" has been narrowly defined, often restricted to materials like cotton, wool, silk, and others. However, its true definition is far more profound. Beyond the physical attributes, a fibre signifies a material that helps build a space from scratch, enabling the creation of something beautiful and meaningful.
The stories of practitioners like me who have embraced upcycling are filled with a certain ethos and ideology that goes beyond mere aesthetics. Our journey involves reimagining the potential of fibres and textiles, infusing them with a socio-economic and ecological framework.
The fashion industry is currently ensnared in a worrisome fever – the unending loop of buying and selling. As consumers, we often work tirelessly to make money, only to spend it on fashion items that perpetuate this cycle. Amidst this relentless pursuit, we rarely find the space to breathe or contemplate the impact of our choices.
Upcycling becomes our answer to making waste visible, acknowledging the disconnect with our environment and each other. It is a powerful tool for healing, instilling a collective confidence of identity and repairing the trust we share as a community.
At the same time, the craft sector faces mounting pressure from hyper industrialization. Artisans are coerced into producing faster and cheaper items, often at the expense of skill, indigenous knowledge, and overall quality of life. To combat this, we must embrace alternative practices that prioritize environmental sustainability and conscious craftspersonship.
One pressing concern is the increasing reliance on poly-based raw materials. While the act of crafting may remain carbon neutral due to raw material supplementation, the finished product itself poses harm to the environment. Take, for example, Polyester yarn hand-woven into textiles, the antithesis to the principles of ethical, fair-trade, and sustainability movements.
Through weaving from waste, I not only narrate the story of my day and age but also envision the future I aspire to create and live in. I believe this story urgently needs to be told, serving as a catalyst for healing and transformation.
Working with leftovers holds immense importance for me as it embodies my commitment to preserving cultural identity and integrity. Each piece I create is a testament to the vibrant heritage and rich history that weaves itself into the fabric.
To weave from waste, we source textile waste from various clusters and industries. Our efforts involve collecting offcuts from garment factories, other brands, and used garments. We meticulously cut these offcuts into tiny scraps, tediously sewing them back together to form a liner yarn. This liner yarn then becomes the foundation upon which we hand weave our fabric.
The process may be time-consuming and challenging, but it is precisely what makes our creations beautifully unique and gentle to the planet. We are on a mission to not only reduce waste but also replace poly-based raw materials in craft practices while continuing to celebrate our cultural identity.
To further our impact, we have collaborated with 20 other organizations, collectively upcycling approximately 15,000 kg of waste and saving about 260 tonnes of CO2 from entering the atmosphere generating work for 20 artisans over the period of 6 years. These collaborations serve as a testament to the power of unity in achieving sustainable goals.
In our quest for a better tomorrow, we have embraced ancient Indian pattern-cutting techniques to design zero waste or minimal waste patterns. Additionally, we have explored multi-functionality in all our garments, empowering our muse with creations that can be used in diverse ways.
Our muse embodies consciousness and compassion. Before making any purchase, she contemplates whether she contributes to litter or embraces sustainable alternatives. Her choices reflect a commitment to weaving a brighter future for our planet and all its inhabitants.
As we venture forward, our textiles of today communicate a story of transformation and hope. Through upcycling and weaving from waste, we pledge to be on the right side of history. Our creations not only adorn the world but also carry a narrative that speaks of sustainability, responsibility, and the beauty of reimagining what fibres can be. Let us embrace this journey together, weaving a legacy of love and sustainability for generations to come.
Issue #10, 2023 ISSN: 2581- 9410 As a passionate practitioner in the world of textiles, I have always been captivated by the transformative power of fibres. To me, they are not merely the building blocks of fabric; they represent the essence of creation. Without the basic raw material – the fibre – no tangible product can ever come to life. It is through this lens that I have explored the realm of upcycling, turning scrap fabrics into fashion and utility items with a purpose.
In the mainstream, the term "fibre" has been narrowly defined, often restricted to materials like cotton, wool, silk, and others. However, its true definition is far more profound. Beyond the physical attributes, a fibre signifies a material that helps build a space from scratch, enabling the creation of something beautiful and meaningful.
The stories of practitioners like me who have embraced upcycling are filled with a certain ethos and ideology that goes beyond mere aesthetics. Our journey involves reimagining the potential of fibres and textiles, infusing them with a socio-economic and ecological framework.
The fashion industry is currently ensnared in a worrisome fever – the unending loop of buying and selling. As consumers, we often work tirelessly to make money, only to spend it on fashion items that perpetuate this cycle. Amidst this relentless pursuit, we rarely find the space to breathe or contemplate the impact of our choices.
Upcycling becomes our answer to making waste visible, acknowledging the disconnect with our environment and each other. It is a powerful tool for healing, instilling a collective confidence of identity and repairing the trust we share as a community.
At the same time, the craft sector faces mounting pressure from hyper industrialization. Artisans are coerced into producing faster and cheaper items, often at the expense of skill, indigenous knowledge, and overall quality of life. To combat this, we must embrace alternative practices that prioritize environmental sustainability and conscious craftspersonship.
One pressing concern is the increasing reliance on poly-based raw materials. While the act of crafting may remain carbon neutral due to raw material supplementation, the finished product itself poses harm to the environment. Take, for example, Polyester yarn hand-woven into textiles, the antithesis to the principles of ethical, fair-trade, and sustainability movements.
Through weaving from waste, I not only narrate the story of my day and age but also envision the future I aspire to create and live in. I believe this story urgently needs to be told, serving as a catalyst for healing and transformation.
Working with leftovers holds immense importance for me as it embodies my commitment to preserving cultural identity and integrity. Each piece I create is a testament to the vibrant heritage and rich history that weaves itself into the fabric.
To weave from waste, we source textile waste from various clusters and industries. Our efforts involve collecting offcuts from garment factories, other brands, and used garments. We meticulously cut these offcuts into tiny scraps, tediously sewing them back together to form a liner yarn. This liner yarn then becomes the foundation upon which we hand weave our fabric.
The process may be time-consuming and challenging, but it is precisely what makes our creations beautifully unique and gentle to the planet. We are on a mission to not only reduce waste but also replace poly-based raw materials in craft practices while continuing to celebrate our cultural identity.
To further our impact, we have collaborated with 20 other organizations, collectively upcycling approximately 15,000 kg of waste and saving about 260 tonnes of CO2 from entering the atmosphere generating work for 20 artisans over the period of 6 years. These collaborations serve as a testament to the power of unity in achieving sustainable goals.
In our quest for a better tomorrow, we have embraced ancient Indian pattern-cutting techniques to design zero waste or minimal waste patterns. Additionally, we have explored multi-functionality in all our garments, empowering our muse with creations that can be used in diverse ways.
Our muse embodies consciousness and compassion. Before making any purchase, she contemplates whether she contributes to litter or embraces sustainable alternatives. Her choices reflect a commitment to weaving a brighter future for our planet and all its inhabitants.
As we venture forward, our textiles of today communicate a story of transformation and hope. Through upcycling and weaving from waste, we pledge to be on the right side of history. Our creations not only adorn the world but also carry a narrative that speaks of sustainability, responsibility, and the beauty of reimagining what fibres can be. Let us embrace this journey together, weaving a legacy of love and sustainability for generations to come.
Embroidery, The Vanishing Heritage of the Nomadic Rabaris
Issue 1, Summer 2019 ISSN: 2581 - 9410
The nomadic Rabaris of Kutch have produced some of the most spectacular embroidery of the Indian sub-continent. Inspection reveals a distinctive and coherent visual vocabulary expressed with great skill. It is a marker of their identity and plays such an important role in their traditional way of life that it has now seen as a barrier to change and is subject to a ban, which is rigorously enforced.
A glimpse of the dramatic attire of the Rabari, predominantly black wool for the women and white cotton for the men, impacts on the eye in sharp contrast to the dun-coloured landscape of the village or the kaleidoscopic hues of the bazaar. Closer inspection reveals a distinctive and coherent visual vocabulary expressed in supremely skilful embroidery.
However, in the last year, a radical piece of self-legislation has been introduced by the samaj, or community council of two of the three sub-groups in Kutch. A wholesale ban on the use of embroidery has been decreed by the Dhebaria and Vagaria samaj and an accompanying severe reduction in the amount of ornamentation to be worn. Only the Kachhi Rabaris remain aloof from the new austerity.
While the rules of the Rabari community are not recognised by the Indian legal system and are, therefore, not enforceable under national jurisdiction, they are rigorously implemented and fastidiously observed. A comprehensive system of penalties has been drawn up and transgression of the new codes of dress, for example, in both Dhebaria and Vagaria communities, incurs a fine of 5000 rupees (approximately GB£100) for a single offence.
Within days of the samaj’s edict last year, the women had stripped themselves of their jewellery and all the embroideries were stored away. No dissent was voiced and observance was total.
Reasons for Change What has prompted such drastic action? Two things: the need to modernise and, more importantly, the need to speed-up the whole procedure of marriage.
The idea of ‘modernising’ is generally expressed by the men rather than the women. They have greater exposure to the urban and metropolitan areas and are more conscious of the way others perceive them: anachronistic, quaint, tribal. Officially, they are classified as Socially and Educationally Backward Classes (SEBCs). The desire to shed the more obvious markers of membership of a so-called backward community when in regular contact with groups of higher estate is understandable. Driven by the stigma of low status in class and caste conscious India, most of the men shed ‘traditional’ or ‘ethnic’ dress in favour of shirts and slacks. In broader terms, ‘modernisation’ is signified by the acquisition of consumer goods – a TV, a Hero Honda motorbike, a ghettoblaster, or the construction of a larger house. Modernisation and provision of community amenities such as education (for females as well as males); primary health care and an easily accessible, potable water supply are thought of by few and remain neglected.
Marriage cements the fabric of caste, community and society at large. Life without marriage is no life at all, unless it is part of religious devotion, and the unmarried are looked upon with pity. For the Rabari women certainly, preparation for it has been a feature of their daily labours. So comprehensive were a woman’s dowry requirements, after all they were supposed to meet her needs for life, that a woman could still be embroidering well into her 30s and full residence in her husband’s village might not be taken up until all was complete.
In tandem with the burden of dowry for the women, the requirements of the bride price had become impossibly onerous for the men. Bride price was usually paid in instalments as a combination of cash and jewellery over a number of years. However, the total cost of a Dhebaria or Vagaria bride (the case is different for the Kachhis) escalated in the last few years to between 1 and 2 lakh rupees (approximately GB£2000 – 4000), an astronomical amount for a pastoral migrant. Consequently, marriage arrangements were protracted in the extreme placed ridiculous demands upon the parties involved and sometimes did not unite the couple until their mid to late 30s, when a woman’s fertility starts to decline.
Thus, marriage rather than acting as a cohesive system within the community was contributing to the causes of its decline. Unsurprisingly, the answer seemed to lie in dismantling the offending elements of both dowry and bride price. However, what is surprising is the uncompromisingly radical policy adopted to achieve this and the swiftness of its implementation. Where a gradual reduction of the amounts of embroidered goods and ornaments might have been anticipated – such is the enduring pride of the female community in these tokens of membership – there has been no such moderation and minimalism now prevails where formerly densely embroidered narratives flourished.
Heritage for Sale A few months on from the initial implementation in numerous villages the accumulated dowry of several generations is being put up for sale.
There has been a trade in Gujarati and Rajasthani folk embroideries for two to three decades, now spurred-on by the rise in tourism. The sale of dowry items has become a source of income for members of most of the rural groups, either by selling directly to visitors or, as is more often the case, by selling to middlemen and dealers. As a source of income, the money realised is generally meagre, sporadic and finite. These textiles and embroideries were not made as commodities for trade. At the most utilitarian level they served as the domestic and personal items required by a woman and her family either at home in the village or, as with Rabaris, for use with the dang (the migratory group). In fact, dowry items rarely were simply utilitarian and were a great showcase for the Rabaris’ characteristic aesthetic, Stitched embellishment on clothing and household items became a marker of group identity, marital status, function (of the item itself and also a testament to the skill of the maker.
Until lately, in the Rabari community, embroidered-clothing played an integral role in the twin systems of dowry and bride price. Blouses, veil cloths, quilts and bags in particular were important inclusions in the series of gift exchanges enacted as part of the whole system of betrothal and marriage. Alongside utility and their function in nuptial arrangements, the embroideries give evocative accounts of Rabari life. Stitched details reveal aspects of daily existence: stylised women carrying water pots, ranks of flowers, parrots and peacocks compete for space with camels. The primary activity of fetching water for desert people and the flora and fauna encountered by the nomad are described stitch by stitch. The religious and symbolic are recorded and the celestial and the mundane jostle together in a single piece. A small repeated triangle is a thorn, a larger triangle a temple; flowers and a temple combine to-form a semi-abstract elephant design. The exuberant whole gives expression to a profound and devout Hinduism.
Adapting to Survive? The Rabaris came to Gujarat from Rajasthan where they were originally camel-herders serving the Rajput courts. The demand for camels declined and, adapting to survive, the Rabaris became primarily herders of sheep, goats or cattle.
The pattern of pastoral nomadism is changing yet again, eroded if not yet eradicated by the rapid urbanisation of modern India. The Rabaris have had to respond to these changes. While many are still pastoralists, there is widespread sedentarisation of all sub-groups. The Kachhis, who inhabit the central and western parts of Kutch, are now heavily involved in farming. The Dhebaria and Vagaria in the east and north-east of the district have retained a certain aloofness from farming, but are becoming involved in sedentary occupations such as agricultural labour, working in the salt industry, and trucking.
The impact of these experiences upon their lives is profound and assails the integrity of their traditions as no earlier upheavals have. The shedding of obvious markers of group membership, such as embroidery and ornamentation, is an expression of this far-reaching change. With the public declaration of ‘Rabariness’ gone, a significant surrender of ethnic identity is announced. For the scholar and textile enthusiast, research has lately been transformed from the documentation of a vibrant tradition to writing the epitaph for an abandoned aesthetic.
Further Reading J. Frater. ‘Threads of Identity: Embroidery and Adornment of the Nomadic Rabaris.’ Mapin Publishing, Ahmedabad, 1995.
Embroidery Matters,
Embroideries by women in Asia have in the last decades been increasingly seen as a subject of study by cultural historians, anthropologists, and women studies scholars. These domestic embroideries, whether for daily use or as part of a trousseau, constitute a visual language, embedded with meanings that served as cultural markers of identity. An orally transmitted tradition, embroidery embodies the cultural pollinations that influence societies and play a dominant role in women's lives.
Embroideries by women in Asia have in the last decades been increasingly seen as a subject of study by cultural historians, anthropologists, and women studies scholars. These domestic embroideries, whether for daily use or as part of a trousseau, constitute a visual language, embedded with meanings that served as cultural markers of identity. An orally transmitted tradition, embroidery embodies the cultural pollinations that influence societies and play a dominant role in women's lives.
It can be reasonably inferred that sewing skills have existed since the origin of the cultivation and weaving of cotton cloth. Though no extant tangible evidence of embroidered pieces are available in the Indian sub-continent prior to the late fifteenth century, archaeological finds in the ancient cities of the Indus Valley have unearthed bronze needles, indicating the existence of sewing skills as early as c 2000 BC. Furthermore, literary references, paintings and the plastic arts suggest that advanced and sophisticated techniques existed for embellishing woven cloth, leading to the conclusion that embroideries have been practiced in the Indian subcontinent for several millennia.
The cultural landscape of Asia has been bound together by a history of trade, migration and conquest, fostering cultural interactions that influenced and enriched embroidery styles. Fresh influxes of craft skills, motifs and symbolism were brought to various parts of Asia with the spread of religions - Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam and Christianity. Along the ancient trade routes, whether overland or maritime, all manner of goods were sold and purchased, among them sacred and secular textiles and embroideries. Thus disseminated across Asia, embroidery styles arrived in alien lands, intermingling with indigenous material cultures to create new vocabularies of technique and form. Examples of such cultural interaction may be evidenced in the Chikankari embroidery of Lucknow, the convent embroideries of Tamil Nadu, the tankha embroideries of the Buddhists and the Parsi Zoroastrian embroideries.
Chikankari embroidery, executed on the finest white muslin using white thread, is reputed to have been introduced into India during the reign of the Mughal emperor Jehangir (1605-27) by his wife Noor Jehan, the daughter of a Persian nobleman. Its floral motifs continue to be embroidered by women in and around Lucknow to this day. The cutwork embroideries of Tamil Nadu, termed as convent embroideries, were brought to India by the Christian missionaries who came into India with the East India Company, but the tradition has been strengthened and indigenized over the past hundred years. Sewn in luminous colours, the embroidered Buddhist tankhas can be seen in monasteries across Asia, from Sikkim in India to Mongolia, China and Tibet. An eclectic mix of cultural influences from Persia, China, India and Britain have combined with Zoroastrian symbolism to form the hallmark of the sophisticated Parsi embroideries reflected in the resplendent garas (saris), jhablas (jackets), and kors (borders). Cultural influences and embroideries originating in one culture and transferred to another took on a different meaning with modified motifs, color and placements, adapted according to suit the cultural receptivity of their new homelands.
Running parallel to the development of professionally embroidered goods for commerce and embroideries created in the karkhana workshops for the princely courts was the quiet, ongoing development of domestic embroideries. Almost always created by women in their homes for their own or for that of their families, for gifts and as part of their trousseaus, these embroidered objects were functional, even utilitarian, but always beautiful. Customised to individual choice, personal requirements and taste, even the smallest, most insignificant pieces were embroidered with a sophistication of design and pattern that reflected the experiences, values and economic circumstances of the embroiderers. They spoke of a culture and place and of a traditional visual language and technique, of diversity and commonalities within and among communities.
The importance of embroidery as a repository of the oral traditions of communities and as a link to unwritten histories is ably demonstrated in the extant traditions of several Asian communities where, in the absence of a written language, women used embroidery to record their experiences. The embroideries of the women of the remote and relatively isolated Li ethnic community in the Hainan Province of China are just one example where a rich, unbroken history can be traced back to the pre-Qin dynasty. Passed on through generations of women, their use of motifs and patterns provide insights into Li traditions and serve as the primary means of documenting their past. This oral transmission over generations has been maintained and continues in a culture that still has no written script. Indeed, the very uniqueness of the Li identity seems integral and connected to their embroideries and their process of creation. The meaning of the embroidered motif being as important as its ornamental value, the symbolism of an embroidery imbued it with an added dimension of value. As Li embroideries have been exclusively produced by women, they showcase a visual record of women's view of their culture and traditions, and thus provide valuable historical, material and sociological information about their lives.
Often, using designs without any references or samples, yet in accordance with collective cultural memory, women's domestic embroideries express an individual aesthetic within a framework of community tradition. Conforming to cultural expectations and representing generations of accumulated beliefs, the semiotics of the motifs, colours and patterning are clearly understood in different geographies within their region and by others who interact with their culture. Defining communities and tribes and signalling cultural differences, embroideries help individual groups express their identities, and their religious, occupational and group affiliations. In the Suzani embroideries of Uzbekistan for instance, regional differences between the cities of Bokhara, Samarkhand, Nurata, Tashkent, Pskent, Fergana and others were subtly distinguishable through the use of colour and design by the embroiderers, with the variations allowing for identification of the origin of the embroidery. The ethnicity and tribal affiliation of communities such as the Jats, Sodha Rajputs, Rabaris and other herding and farming communities of the Kutch and Saurashtra regions in Gujarat, the adjoining areas of western Rajasthan and the contiguous belt of the Thar Parkar region in Sind, Pakistan, can be read from their dress and embroideries. Likewise, the distinct red, blue and black embroidery on the rough, specially woven, white cotton drape known as puthukuli distinguish the Toda tribals who live in the Nilgiri hills of South India. Similarly, the Li embroideries of Hainan Province establish their group identity while distinct features such as the double faced embroidery of the women of the Run-dialect-speaking community distinguish the five major Li sub-groups.
Women embroider their dreams for a good husband, many healthy, children, fertile harvests, and protection from harm and ill fortune. The iconography not only marks tribal and community affiliations, it reflects the belief that the embroidered motifs are powerful portents and represent more than the embellishment and decorative surface that meets the eye. West Bengal and Bangladesh are renowned for their Kantha embroidery. Originating as a means of reusing and refurbishing of old, cotton saris and dhotis, the running stitch embroidery of Kantha fashions from textiles that are worn out with repeated use layered new quilts, spreads, wraps and small items of everyday use. Motifs imbued with symbols of blessings, protective and talismanic, social and religious, were embroidered on the layered cloth to be used as occasion demanded. In Karnataka, the woven blue-black Chandrakali sari presented to new brides is embellished with Kasuti embroidered auspicious motifs and symbolic blessings. An embroidered toran strung across a doorway in Gujarat does not only serve as a welcome to visitors; the embroidered motifs present powerful auspicious and protective symbols for the home and hearth. Similarly, the nomadic Banjara tribes spread across the geographic swath of Andhra, Maharashtra and Karnataka use mirrored embroidery to deflect the evil eye while in the Parsi Zoroastrian embroidery tradition, the motif of the divine fungus gives protection and symbolizes longevity and immortality.
From the Hainan province in China to remote areas in Laos, across the arid areas of Gujarat and Rajasthan in India to Uzbekistan, women's embroideries have formed an integral part of their trousseau. Embroidery requires time, concentration, skill, commitment, an aesthetic sense and an in-depth understanding of the tradition within which the embroiderer is working - all qualities that are looked for in a prospective bride. Young girls learn the embroidery arts from an early age as preparation for betrothal and marriage. From the Punjab in India comes the Phulkari, a genre that includes the Bagh and the Chope embroideries started by the maternal grandmother and mother on the birth of her child. Wedding embroideries are made to drape the bride, be held as canopies at the wedding and as gifts to the groom's family. The yellow or red Chope are imbued with wishes for prosperity, fertility and a loving union. In a similar vein, the Suzani dowry embroideries of Uzbekistan include awnings for the bride and groom, wall panels, and coverings such as the ruidzho bridal bedcover and other articles, the choice of colour and embroidered motifs of each symbolise fertility, prosperity and marital happiness. The splendid dowry embroideries of the Kutch and Saurashtra region in Gujarat, and the adjoining areas of western Rajasthan are well documented. In fact, embroidering for a dowry had become such an elaborate and time-consuming process that village elders of the Dhebaria Rabaris in Kutch imposed a ban on dowry embroideries to prevent the women from feeling pressured into complying with the rigorous dowry requirements of the community.
The complexity of stories that can be told through embroideries is reflected in domestic pictorial traditions that have been translated into embroideries, narrating folklore, legends and religious stories. The embroidered Chamba Rumals originating in the erstwhile Pahari Kingdoms, now in Himachal Pradesh are a case in point. Used as covers for ritual offerings, for gifts on ceremonial occasions and as wall hangings, the rumals depict images from the great epics of the Ramayana and Mahabharata, and the Krishna Leela. These sophisticated embroideries executed in a refined colour palette were sewn by upper class women from the princely courts. The illustrations were outlined in charcoal and were often even marked with suggestions on the colour scheme by skilled miniature artists who were associated with the court. Using skeins of untwisted floss silk on a cotton base with running stitch for the outline and darn stitch for the filling, the vividly picturised embroidered scenes appear exactly the same on both side of the fabric. Outside the courts of Chamba where local women did not have access to the skill of miniature artists, the rumals existed as a folk tradition in which mythological events were embroidered on hand-spun cotton in bold colours that had a vibrancy and spontaneity in their narration of the legends and mythic stories. Over the last two decades the contemporary pictorial Sujnis' of Bihar, embroidered for commercial markets, are narrations that do not tell religious stories as much as attempt to address issues of everyday existence. The embroideries tapping into the creativity of the women teem with narrative vigour, energy and minute detailing expressing surprisingly liberated images and thought. The significance of these embroideries lies in these stories that they tell of their lives from the problems of dowry to the importance of using condoms to prevent AIDS.
As communities have grown and changed, the spread of education for girls, exposure to media, increased connectivity and availability of all manner of goods has led to economic and social transformations leading to an increasing commercialization of embroideries that were earlier done only for domestic purposes. The recognition of the embroidery skills of women by marketers and development agencies and their subsequent harnessing has created a significant commercial product both for the domestic and overseas markets.
The work of organizations with the Meghwal, Suthar, Jat, Rabari and other communities in Barmer, Rajasthan and Kutch, Gujarat and the commercialisation of the distinct embroideries of the Lambadis, the nomadic Banjara community, the Sujani of Bihar and the Kantha embroideries of West Bengal and Bangladesh is just a small part of a story replicated across many cultures. Domestic embroideries have achieved the status of a readily marketable product - providing employment, income and thus empowerment to women embroiderers.
This commercialisation of production called for a modification in design and product range to suit the market. Adapting to changing trends has generated incomes for the embroiders, thereby assisting in the economic advancement of the women of these communities, and by extension, in granting them increased confidence and self esteem. The shift in the embroiderer's conception of their craft - as a labour of love fashioning familiar objects of everyday use for themselves and their families, to a marketable skill, used to create products intended for the use of unknown customers in distant markets - has taken its toll on the craft form. Design content is often standardised, dictated by pricing structures and wages. It may be argued that this phenomenon has reduced creativity or resulted in a loss of authenticity but it is equally true that when handled sensitively, the mutation of traditional craft into an item of global consumption has enabled its continuity and the empowerment of its practitioners.
First published in "Sui Dhaga - Crossing Boundaries through Needle and Thread (Wisdon Tree).
Embroidery Unbound,
What do archaeological finds in a five millennia old city of the Harrapan civilisation have in common with Toda tribes, Banjara gypsies, Noor Jehan, haute couture, exports and the big Indian wedding? The answer in brief is the humble needle. Unearthed needles excavated in ancient Harrapan sites have led scholars to infer that embroidery skills have been practiced in an unbroken continuity on the Indian subcontinent for several millennia. The creative ongoing mutation of this traditional craft with its diverse sophisticated techniques of embellishment into an item of global consumption has enabled its continuity and the empowerment of its practitioners across the cultural landscape of India. Skills, motifs, patterning, stitches and the symbolism that enriched the diversity of embroidery styles continue to be handmade within the tradition of professionally embroidered goods created in karkhana/workshops and in individual ateliers. Chikankari, reputed to have been introduced in the 16thcentury by Noor Jehan, wife of the Mughal emperor Jehangir continues to be resurgent several centuries on, its delicate white thread-work continuing to be executed on the finest white muslins. The floral and geometric motifs embroidered by women are to be found not only in and around the city of of its origin but in stores across India and in couture ateliers across the globe. It is estimated that there are anywhere between 5 to 6 lakh people involved with the trade with an approximate turnover of Rs.1000 crores per year. The cutwork Convent embroideries of Tamil Nadu, brought to India by the Christian missionaries in the 18th century have been absorbed and adapted to suit local requirements by the women embroiderers. While the luminous colours of embroidered and appliquéd Buddhist Tankhas carefully made in Sikkim, Darjeeling, Himachal and Mussorie are to be seen in monasteries the world over. Similarly the eclectic mix of cultural influences from Persia and China combined with Zoroastrian symbolism to form the hallmark of the sophisticated Parsi embroideries that were reflected in the resplendent garas (saris), jhablas(jackets), and kors (borders) are now embroidered again to appeal to a wider audience. Likewise the Danke-ka-Kaam of Udaipur that uses small diamond shaped concave cut pieces of gold and silver plated sheet metals that are hand-stitched on to luxury fabrics by the Bohra Muslim community who migrated to this area in the 16th Century is another such example of an embroidery form that continues to be made in India. The Kashikdari of Kashmir, the Pipli appliqué of Odisha, the Khatwa of Bihar, Gota-work of Rajasthan are all success stories of tradition that has adapted to contemporary needs and modern lives while not losing touch with its roots and communities – a truly indigenous solution. The widespread pan-India success of Zardozi embroideries have made it a must have at any Indian wedding. Designers who are now household names have built their reputations with their Zardozi trousseau collections.This craft practice is reputed to employ more than 10 lakh embroiderers across Delhi, Bengal, Punjab, Uttar Pradesh, Chennai, Maharashtra, Madhya Pradesh - in fact it is a rare city that doesn’t have a Zardozi workshop. But what is relatively less known is the Zardozi embroidery that is handmade for crests for aristocratic families and ceremonial badges for uniforms including those for the armed forces across the globe. In addition Zardozi is embroidered for specially commissioned vestments worn by priests. Running in parallel to the revival, growth and contemporisation of these professionally embroidered goods has been the ongoing development of domestic embroideries that in the past were created by women for their own use or for that of their families. Now harnessed as a commercial skill it has lead to economic and social transformations for the embroiderers while creating a significant product for the domestic and overseas markets. Orally transmitted from mother to daughter within communities and over generations the symbolism inherent in an embroidery imbued it with an added dimension of value. These domestic embroideries constituted a visual language that served as cultural markers of identity, with their design and patterning speaking of a culture and a place. Domestic embroideries range across many diverse styles. From the subtly distinguishable colour and design embroidery of the Meghwal, Suthar, Jat, Rabari, Sodha Rajputs and other herding and farming communities of the Kutch and Saurashtra regions in Gujarat and the contiguous belt of western Rajasthan. To the distinct red and black embroidery executed on the rough, specially woven, white cotton drape known as puthukuli that has distinguished the group identity of the Toda tribal’s who live in the Nilgiri hills. The Bengal Kantha embroidery that originated as a means of upcycling and reusing worn out saris and dhotis remains renowned. The running stitch layered into quilts, spreads and wraps with motifs that were imbued with protective and talismanic symbols, with social commentary and floral and figurative imagery now transformed by more than 50,000 home-based embroiderers on to products for urban India. In the same way the Tankha and other embroideries of Rajasthan and other states that provides home-based work to many women across towns and villages is changing lives and adding many more into the economic mainstream of the nation. Similarly, the mirrored embroidery that deflected the evil eye of the nomadic Banjara tribes who are spread across the geographic swath of Andhra, Telengana, Maharashtra and Karnataka can now be seen on products of the everyday. Across India domestic embroideries have formed an integral part of the trousseau made to drape the bride, be held as canopies at the wedding ceremony, as coverlets for offerings, as gifts to the groom’s family and the many other reasons. From the Punjab comes the Phulkari, a genre that includes the Bagh and the Chope embroideries started by the maternal grandmother and mother on the birth of a daughter that are now translated on to mode wear by professional embroiderers for their many customers. In a similar vein in Karnataka, the woven blue-black Chandrakali sari presented to new brides is embellished with Kasuti embroidered auspicious motifs and symbolic blessings. An embroidered toran strung across a doorway in Gujarat does not only serve as a welcome to visitors as its motifs present powerful auspicious and protective symbols for the home and hearth is now been made accessible to home owners in urban India.. The complexity of stories that can be told through embroideries is reflected in domestic pictorial traditions translated into embroideries that narrate folklore, legends and religious stories. The embroidered Chamba Rumals originating in the erstwhile Pahari Kingdoms, is a case in point. These sophisticated embroideries were sewn by upper class women of the princely courts with the illustrations often outlined by skilled miniature artists attached to the court.The revived tradition flourishes in Chamba with the embroideries used as covers for ritual offerings, for gifts on ceremonial occasions and as wall hangings. The rumals depict images from the great epics of the Ramayana and Mahabharata, the Krishna-Leela, to more contemporary themes. Over the last two decades the pictorial Sujnis of Bihar, embroidered for commercial markets, are narrations that do not tell religious stories as much as attempt to address issues of everyday existence. The embroideries tapping into the creativity of the women teem with narrative vigour, energy and minute detailing expressing surprisingly liberated images and thought. The significance of these embroideries lies in these stories that they tell of their lives from the problems of dowry to the importance of using condoms to prevent AIDS have all found a world-wide market. This is just a small part of a story replicated across many domestic embroidery traditions that have achieved the status of a readily marketable product – providing employment, income and thus empowerment to women embroiderers. As they moved from fashioning objects of use for themselves and their families to a marketable skill some have decried this shift. Arguing that commercialization has reduced creativity or resulted in a loss of authenticity as embroiderers create products intended for the use of unknown customers in distant markets. However it is equally true that when handled sensitively the mutation of traditional craft into an item of global consumption has enabled its continuity, with many more embroiderers - mainly women joining practice of this home-based productive wage force. Beyond the domestic sphere the skill of Indian embroiderers continues to be in demand similar to its ancient past when embroideries were a valuable trade good that traversed the ancient overland and maritime trade routes. Multiplied manifold times this trend continues today with year on year increase. Export figures for 2015-16 reveal that embroideries formed 1/4th of the value of India’s handicraft exports, a value of USD 449 million, an increase of 13 % over the past financial year. This valuation did not include Zari and Zardozi embroideries that formed a separate category and were exported to the tune of USD 17.4 million, registering an increase of 24% over the past year. Remarkable numbers that are not to be scoffed at. Beyond embroidered textiles the embellishing of footwear has also been a long tradition that adapted the basic precepts of textile embroidery to suit the material on hand. From wrapping embroidered fabric onto a hardier base material and stitching it into place to embroidering directly on to the material itself using appropriate needles and threads has formed a genre by itself with the embroiderers specialising in the technology of handcrafting footwear. Among the diverse varieties and styles are the slip-on close-toed tilla juttis and mojaris of Punjab, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh and Rajasthan. Here the customization of the uppers and insoles with hand-embroidered metallic yarns of gold and silver - the tilla and other colored threads that are patterned with fine dense trellis, wave and rhombus, check, paisley or other patterns. Worn by adults and the young, by men and women this footwear have been distinguishable by distinct regional styles. Crafted for occasion or to specially customized styles these embroidery skills are now being put to use for footwear for domestic and overseas high-street markets and for the cat walk. Acknowledging the skill of the Indian embroiderers’ haute couture houses in the fashion capitals of the world are giving recognition to their innate ability to handle the sophisticated techniques of high-end embellishment. The made in India label has resonance in their rich embroideries and fashion pieces demanded by luxury clients be it in home furnishings, in dress embellishment, shoe decoration or in accessory design. While many unsung embroideries still need to be rediscovered and explored much has been achieved. The future of Indian embroideries continues to lie in the skill of its practitioners and their ability to push boundaries while remaining true to tradition. First published in Conde Nast Traveller.
What do archaeological finds in a five millennia old city of the Harrapan civilisation have in common with Toda tribes, Banjara gypsies, Noor Jehan, haute couture, exports and the big Indian wedding? The answer in brief is the humble needle. Unearthed needles excavated in ancient Harrapan sites have led scholars to infer that embroidery skills have been practiced in an unbroken continuity on the Indian subcontinent for several millennia. The creative ongoing mutation of this traditional craft with its diverse sophisticated techniques of embellishment into an item of global consumption has enabled its continuity and the empowerment of its practitioners across the cultural landscape of India. Skills, motifs, patterning, stitches and the symbolism that enriched the diversity of embroidery styles continue to be handmade within the tradition of professionally embroidered goods created in karkhana/workshops and in individual ateliers. Chikankari, reputed to have been introduced in the 16thcentury by Noor Jehan, wife of the Mughal emperor Jehangir continues to be resurgent several centuries on, its delicate white thread-work continuing to be executed on the finest white muslins. The floral and geometric motifs embroidered by women are to be found not only in and around the city of of its origin but in stores across India and in couture ateliers across the globe. It is estimated that there are anywhere between 5 to 6 lakh people involved with the trade with an approximate turnover of Rs.1000 crores per year. The cutwork Convent embroideries of Tamil Nadu, brought to India by the Christian missionaries in the 18th century have been absorbed and adapted to suit local requirements by the women embroiderers. While the luminous colours of embroidered and appliquéd Buddhist Tankhas carefully made in Sikkim, Darjeeling, Himachal and Mussorie are to be seen in monasteries the world over. Similarly the eclectic mix of cultural influences from Persia and China combined with Zoroastrian symbolism to form the hallmark of the sophisticated Parsi embroideries that were reflected in the resplendent garas (saris), jhablas(jackets), and kors (borders) are now embroidered again to appeal to a wider audience. Likewise the Danke-ka-Kaam of Udaipur that uses small diamond shaped concave cut pieces of gold and silver plated sheet metals that are hand-stitched on to luxury fabrics by the Bohra Muslim community who migrated to this area in the 16th Century is another such example of an embroidery form that continues to be made in India. The Kashikdari of Kashmir, the Pipli appliqué of Odisha, the Khatwa of Bihar, Gota-work of Rajasthan are all success stories of tradition that has adapted to contemporary needs and modern lives while not losing touch with its roots and communities – a truly indigenous solution. The widespread pan-India success of Zardozi embroideries have made it a must have at any Indian wedding. Designers who are now household names have built their reputations with their Zardozi trousseau collections.This craft practice is reputed to employ more than 10 lakh embroiderers across Delhi, Bengal, Punjab, Uttar Pradesh, Chennai, Maharashtra, Madhya Pradesh - in fact it is a rare city that doesn’t have a Zardozi workshop. But what is relatively less known is the Zardozi embroidery that is handmade for crests for aristocratic families and ceremonial badges for uniforms including those for the armed forces across the globe. In addition Zardozi is embroidered for specially commissioned vestments worn by priests. Running in parallel to the revival, growth and contemporisation of these professionally embroidered goods has been the ongoing development of domestic embroideries that in the past were created by women for their own use or for that of their families. Now harnessed as a commercial skill it has lead to economic and social transformations for the embroiderers while creating a significant product for the domestic and overseas markets. Orally transmitted from mother to daughter within communities and over generations the symbolism inherent in an embroidery imbued it with an added dimension of value. These domestic embroideries constituted a visual language that served as cultural markers of identity, with their design and patterning speaking of a culture and a place. Domestic embroideries range across many diverse styles. From the subtly distinguishable colour and design embroidery of the Meghwal, Suthar, Jat, Rabari, Sodha Rajputs and other herding and farming communities of the Kutch and Saurashtra regions in Gujarat and the contiguous belt of western Rajasthan. To the distinct red and black embroidery executed on the rough, specially woven, white cotton drape known as puthukuli that has distinguished the group identity of the Toda tribal’s who live in the Nilgiri hills. The Bengal Kantha embroidery that originated as a means of upcycling and reusing worn out saris and dhotis remains renowned. The running stitch layered into quilts, spreads and wraps with motifs that were imbued with protective and talismanic symbols, with social commentary and floral and figurative imagery now transformed by more than 50,000 home-based embroiderers on to products for urban India. In the same way the Tankha and other embroideries of Rajasthan and other states that provides home-based work to many women across towns and villages is changing lives and adding many more into the economic mainstream of the nation. Similarly, the mirrored embroidery that deflected the evil eye of the nomadic Banjara tribes who are spread across the geographic swath of Andhra, Telengana, Maharashtra and Karnataka can now be seen on products of the everyday. Across India domestic embroideries have formed an integral part of the trousseau made to drape the bride, be held as canopies at the wedding ceremony, as coverlets for offerings, as gifts to the groom’s family and the many other reasons. From the Punjab comes the Phulkari, a genre that includes the Bagh and the Chope embroideries started by the maternal grandmother and mother on the birth of a daughter that are now translated on to mode wear by professional embroiderers for their many customers. In a similar vein in Karnataka, the woven blue-black Chandrakali sari presented to new brides is embellished with Kasuti embroidered auspicious motifs and symbolic blessings. An embroidered toran strung across a doorway in Gujarat does not only serve as a welcome to visitors as its motifs present powerful auspicious and protective symbols for the home and hearth is now been made accessible to home owners in urban India.. The complexity of stories that can be told through embroideries is reflected in domestic pictorial traditions translated into embroideries that narrate folklore, legends and religious stories. The embroidered Chamba Rumals originating in the erstwhile Pahari Kingdoms, is a case in point. These sophisticated embroideries were sewn by upper class women of the princely courts with the illustrations often outlined by skilled miniature artists attached to the court.The revived tradition flourishes in Chamba with the embroideries used as covers for ritual offerings, for gifts on ceremonial occasions and as wall hangings. The rumals depict images from the great epics of the Ramayana and Mahabharata, the Krishna-Leela, to more contemporary themes. Over the last two decades the pictorial Sujnis of Bihar, embroidered for commercial markets, are narrations that do not tell religious stories as much as attempt to address issues of everyday existence. The embroideries tapping into the creativity of the women teem with narrative vigour, energy and minute detailing expressing surprisingly liberated images and thought. The significance of these embroideries lies in these stories that they tell of their lives from the problems of dowry to the importance of using condoms to prevent AIDS have all found a world-wide market. This is just a small part of a story replicated across many domestic embroidery traditions that have achieved the status of a readily marketable product – providing employment, income and thus empowerment to women embroiderers. As they moved from fashioning objects of use for themselves and their families to a marketable skill some have decried this shift. Arguing that commercialization has reduced creativity or resulted in a loss of authenticity as embroiderers create products intended for the use of unknown customers in distant markets. However it is equally true that when handled sensitively the mutation of traditional craft into an item of global consumption has enabled its continuity, with many more embroiderers - mainly women joining practice of this home-based productive wage force. Beyond the domestic sphere the skill of Indian embroiderers continues to be in demand similar to its ancient past when embroideries were a valuable trade good that traversed the ancient overland and maritime trade routes. Multiplied manifold times this trend continues today with year on year increase. Export figures for 2015-16 reveal that embroideries formed 1/4th of the value of India’s handicraft exports, a value of USD 449 million, an increase of 13 % over the past financial year. This valuation did not include Zari and Zardozi embroideries that formed a separate category and were exported to the tune of USD 17.4 million, registering an increase of 24% over the past year. Remarkable numbers that are not to be scoffed at. Beyond embroidered textiles the embellishing of footwear has also been a long tradition that adapted the basic precepts of textile embroidery to suit the material on hand. From wrapping embroidered fabric onto a hardier base material and stitching it into place to embroidering directly on to the material itself using appropriate needles and threads has formed a genre by itself with the embroiderers specialising in the technology of handcrafting footwear. Among the diverse varieties and styles are the slip-on close-toed tilla juttis and mojaris of Punjab, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh and Rajasthan. Here the customization of the uppers and insoles with hand-embroidered metallic yarns of gold and silver - the tilla and other colored threads that are patterned with fine dense trellis, wave and rhombus, check, paisley or other patterns. Worn by adults and the young, by men and women this footwear have been distinguishable by distinct regional styles. Crafted for occasion or to specially customized styles these embroidery skills are now being put to use for footwear for domestic and overseas high-street markets and for the cat walk. Acknowledging the skill of the Indian embroiderers’ haute couture houses in the fashion capitals of the world are giving recognition to their innate ability to handle the sophisticated techniques of high-end embellishment. The made in India label has resonance in their rich embroideries and fashion pieces demanded by luxury clients be it in home furnishings, in dress embellishment, shoe decoration or in accessory design. While many unsung embroideries still need to be rediscovered and explored much has been achieved. The future of Indian embroideries continues to lie in the skill of its practitioners and their ability to push boundaries while remaining true to tradition. First published in Conde Nast Traveller.
Employment in the Craft Sector,
| A section of India believes that we are on the move and that opportunity for employment and enterprise in all spheres are growing. However another vast section in rural areas, particularly in certain regions and states and among certain communities, has been left frozen and immobile with no vision or hope of any change. These include artisan communities with low skills but no alternative options. Literacy figures are rising rapidly in some areas such as the north-east, and very slowly, particularly among women, in the traditionally backward states. Growth in employment has practically stopped in the public sector and but has grown in the services sector. Figures are quantifiable in formal industries and hardly available with any sense of accuracy in the unorganised sector. Uncertainties in assessing migrant labour, land ownership patterns, part time farming activity, artisan work closely related to farming or fishing, seasonal and full time employment in traditional cultural activity , result in only notional figures relating to employment being available for what is broadly called the craft sector. For many years governments have attempted to assess accurately the numbers employed in handicraft and handloom activity. Difficulties in arriving at exact figures stem not only from faulty census methodology but from insecure conditions faced by traditionally skilled and semi-skilled workers in this sector. For example, a handloom weaver’s family could consist of the head of the household who earns from his labours, a wife who assists him almost full time in pre and post loom work, but is not a wage earner, and children and elders who may also assist from time to time for no wage. If the wage-earner should die, often the woman takes over the work of weaving. She is a skilled worker but would most likely not be counted separately in any artisan census. A semi-skilled weaver may find he is unemployed if his master weaver cannot obtain orders for the season. He may be forced to go into manual labour or practice some other low-level skill, despite being a traditional handloom weaver. Unless he is actively on the loom he may not be counted in the census. Many weavers have migrated in larger numbers to larger towns and cities to find alternative work. Some may absorbed by textile manufacturing units on a temporary or permanent basis while others may get lost in the ocean of impoverished daily wage earners attached to construction or other such activity. In Varanasi we have the strange situation of 40% of the handlooms closed for lack of orders and work, while for much of the remaining looms business is brisk. A national handloom census carried out just 6 years ago gives the number of weavers employed in handlooms at around 75 lakh persons, yet officials informally admit that the figures could be almost double. It also means that five times this number depend on weaving for sustenance. Census gatherers do not identify part time or unemployed weavers who have moved from their traditional areas of work. In the unorganised sector, much of the work has that ‘now-you-see-them-now-you-don’t’ quality because it gets activated only on a seasonal or need basis. Actual workers can be counted but significantly, persons with knowledge of craft skills which are underutilized or redundant fall between the gaps. A documenter of crafts for many years would know that among other things, the most fascinating aspect of the crafts sector is the ability of certain crafts people to appear to be flourishing one day and almost disappear from sight the next, only to reappear in another form the day after. A small intervention by technicians, designers, NGOs, local governments or just a sporadic market demand can resuscitate an old skill or create new occupations almost overnight. They may disappear just as easily if demand disappears. It is against such misty and ephemeral factors that one must consider the potential for employment in the crafts sector. Exports may give employment a thrust but keep individual wages low and lead to sudden collapse if products lose their appeal or cannot be competitive. The history of crafts in the past 100 years would show a decline in those crafts which were part of earlier courtly lifestyles or were crushed for offering competition to British goods. Wherever industrial goods competed with local ones the latter died out and crafts people turned to other occupations. Also, wherever the world’s urban trends dictated changed life style, and old cultural practices gave way to new more ‘modern’ attitudes, the craftsman was often left by the wayside. However, the traditional potter, the blacksmith, the grass mat and basket weaver continued to make items for simple rural needs and survived because of this. The caste system also held traditional occupations in place. When India became a free country despite the many vicissitudes that crafts people had to face, they could still be found in large numbers, and a strong spirit of nationalism encouraged serious efforts by the government to resuscitate and revive their crafts. One flaw in its pattern of development was the categorisation of crafts themselves. The word handicrafts was meant to describe the more ornamental, decorative objects that may also be utilitarian but actually served the upper echelons of Indian society, whereas common potters, weavers and others who made non artistic crafts were categorised as mere village industry, serving villagers. Naturally, with the same hierarchies being reflected in the bureaucracy and upper middle class society, the latter were practically neglected in terms of development, financial support or marketing. It was left to the village markets to absorb and deal with these, while the elaborate and finer skills were noticed and admired by cosmopolitan society. For these reasons, the common categories were never quantified while the upper section received government attention. Despite this imbalance, India’s official policies and the schemes formulated to channel funds for the development of the craft sector are probably the most widespread and supportive in their intentions than in any other country. It is also arguable that India has the greatest number of skills in the craft and handmade textile sector in the world and therefore it is only natural this should be reflected in government policy. Government policies cover marketing through crafts bazaars and exhibitions, product design and technical training workshops, export development programmes, promotion through publications such as posters and catalogues, cluster development and buyer-seller meets, support to state organisation, apex co-operative bodies or NGOs to set up retail showrooms, and for state governments to set up haats (marketplaces) in urban areas to provide infrastructure to crafts persons for short periods of time. On paper they are well laid out and cover almost every development requirement. However, in reality, processes to implement them are mired in corruption and red tape and at times too inflexible to serve a sector full of disparate needs and tenuous results. Most often, what is really needed is commitment and passion, flexible modes of operation, complete integrity and considerable ‘hand-holding’ before a group of crafts men or women can confidently steer their own destinies in the commercial world of quality and competition. The most crucial component to ensure employment, i.e., sustainable livelihoods in craft occupations, is the market. Without this there can be no security. If the crafts person is sure of selling his/her goods, the motivation and confidence needed to access raw material, give time to ensure a fine quality finish, seek funds through loans to fulfil orders and finally, to pass on skills to the next generation , comes automatically. For far too long, the focus was on inputs, rather than opportunities to sell the output. It may be a chicken-and-egg situation but in the long run experience has shown us that if a market is available, or even indicated in the horizon, the artisan will make efforts to obtain the inputs needed to find a respectable space in the marketplace. In recent years globalization has been a big issue facing development activists who work at grass root levels. In some cases traditional occupations have been hit hard. Some years ago small fisher folk in Kerala were impoverished when big trawlers began to encroach on their spaces in the seas and the women who made packing material for the fish and sleeping mats out of screw pine leaves to supplement meagre family incomes found that they were the sole bread earners of the family. Financial burdens imposed by local loan sharks and unfair marketing practices which gave low returns resulted in desperate women committing suicide. It took many years of struggle, in which I was personally involved, major organisational efforts by dedicated trade unionists and some determined weaver women to stabilize their lives and their incomes. In another part of Kerala, traditional potters lost their markets for earthen cooking vessels because of competition from industrial substitutes. Women in these families turned to prostitution until another major intervention by the Dastkari Haat Samiti along with a designer and funds from government sources brought them back to making more contemporary and relevant products and out of prostitution. It was the loss of markets that caused their miseries, and even while they have excellent marketable products now such as terracotta murals and large garden pots and urns, it is largely private initiatives and not the government that sustains them. Life may have improved but the future is still precarious unless the connecting links between village production and sophisticated urban demands is kept firm by those involved in sustaining the livelihoods of such people. Positive stories in the craft sector abound in the current environment of enterprise, literacy, internet technology and cheaper travel. There is a quantum leap in the world’s interest in India’s special qualities. Crafts and handmade textiles are India’s greatest cultural resources that can be converted into economic wealth. Unlike ten years ago, crafts people who have had exposure to urban marketing events and state invitations abroad to demonstrate their skills at trade fairs and other ‘India shows’ have now printed business cards. Some have e-mail addresses and communicate via the internet through literate friends or even type Hindi words in English themselves. Their sons and daughters are now encouraged to be part of their enterprises since earnings and dignity in pursuing such professions has improved. Fifteen years ago most crafts people spoke with a sense of apathy and despondency, but today they know they can contact buyers through the internet or tourists will visit their village and buy their wares at their doorstep. Places like Dilli Haat have opened up major marketing opportunities where they learn confidence in selling to urban customers. In Uttaranchal small NGOs work with women’s groups in villages to convert local grasses and bamboo into basketry and rope or multiple utilitarian and artistic uses. These products are shown at crafts bazaars at places like Dilli Haat. Small entrepreneurs have developed into exporters confident of getting orders for contemporary, well-designed and well-presented handicrafts. In the district of Bhadohi a project initiated by the Dastkari Haat Samiti with help from Sandhi Craft Foundation, (an initiative of the ICICI Bank), enabled hundreds of women to have a vision of steady earnings from their traditional skill of basket making, which had never been produced for the market. Since they made them only for personal use, they had escaped the attention of institutional bodies. The women were either not earning from basketry or were earning a pittance in carpet weaving. After being motivated to convert their skill into earnings, getting guidance in colours and new product types, they realized that good orders could bring them a four figure income every month if they were industrious. In this instance, employment potential has been created among women in Bhadohi where none existed, within a year of focussed work carried out by the organisers. This example demonstrates the huge scope that exists for creating employment in the crafts sector. The basic requirements are, a) the ability to search for and recognise craft skills and their potential for development, b) provide necessary improvements to make them marketable, c) target and provide access to specific markets, d) provide temporary support to enable crafts people to form organisational bodies and access micro credit and other loans, e) assist them at a later stage in setting up a business enterprise with a proper business plan. The private sector and the government can work with established NGOs, design institutions, exporters and sundry marketing bodies to create the groundwork and bring crafts persons and their products out to the vast marketplace. Corporate social responsibilities can be fulfilled by ensuring that corporate gifts and some kinds of office equipment is accessed only from this sector. It benefits everyone to create purchasing power in rural areas, since industrial products would then be in demand, and encourage livelihood generation in a sector that is employment friendly, eco-friendly and, as a bonus, demonstrates the excellence of India’s traditional skills and multi-cultural traditions. 11th September ‘07 First Published Oct 2007, One India One People Reprinted March 2008, The Other Side |
Empowering Adivasi Communities through Handmade Banana Paper, The Inspiring Journey of the Establishment of a Social development enterprise - Koraj Crafts at the Adivasi Academy, Tejgadh
Issue #10, 2023 ISSN: 2581- 9410 Introduction Paper, a very ordinary yet powerful surface, always made me curious about all its aspects. Since childhood, I have been wanting to explore paper to its fullest capacity. The Adivasi Academy under Bhasha Research and Publication Centre, Vadodara has acted like a launch-pad for my flight Amid the second wave of the COVID-19 pandemic in April 2021 I-Ravi Raj, a craft design student, embarked on a transformative journey that would lead to the creation of a successful social development enterprise. This article delves into my journey from being a craft design student to a social development entrepreneur. Simultaneously, it explores the sustainable process of developing handmade banana paper and the establishment of Koraj Crafts in the Adivasi area of Chhota Udepur, Gujarat.
The Genesis of Handmade Banana Paper Project
I was a final year post-graduate student at the prestigious Indian Institute of Crafts and Design in Jaipur, Rajasthan. Fueled by a passion for sustainable design and a desire to make a positive impact, I decided to focus on developing colorful handmade paper and packaging designs from banana fibre. To gain the necessary expertise, I underwent a one-week training in handmade paper making at the Kumarappa National Handmade Paper Institute in Sanganer, Jaipur in Rajasthan. Equipped with this knowledge, I arrived at the Adivasi Academy under the Bhasha Research and Publication Centre, Vadodara in the first week of April to commence work on crafting handmade paper. Over a span of six to seven months, I successfully developed a range of handmade papers and packaging using banana fibre and other natural materials like corn husk, grass, bamboo, and mahua.
Further, I set out to establish a fully equipped paper research and development unit at the Adivasi Academy with the support of a one-year fellowship awarded by Bhasha Research and Publication Centre. While working on the project the support I got from the mentors was extremely helpful. I am especially thankful to Dr. Madan Meena, the director of the Adivasi Academy for helping in the initiation of the project and for providing his support thereon. Prof. Om Damani, Sri Ramesh Shah, Sri Amitabh Pandey, Dr. Ritesh Kumar, Dr. Suman Pandey, Dr. Shalu Rastugi, Sri Ved Arya, Sri Girish Agrawal have mentored me at every level of this project.
Wealth Out of Waste: Transforming Banana Stems
Colourful handmade paper from banana fibre, which is considered as a waste material, is taking the Indian paper industry towards a new direction. The consumption and use of paper is done on a large scale all over the world and especially in India. From the invention of paper to its modern revolutionary experiments and uses, paper has become essential in one’s daily life. Since we meet this need from nature, we need to make sure that the impact it has on the environment is eco-friendly. The production process and execution process of paper should therefore be sustainable and environment friendly. With this idea in mind, I began my post-graduation project at the Adivasi Academy in April 2021.
As a part of the project, I had to study, research, develop and document different types of paper making techniques from natural fibres and product making techniques from handmade paper. I successfully developed colourful handmade paper from banana fibre using natural dye.
The Adivasi Academy is situated in the Chhota Udepur district of Gujarat. Chotta Udepur is a tribal dominated area with farming as the major occupation. The farmers of this region cultivate many varieties of trees and plants and must throw away the waste from the field after the harvest. This also included waste from banana plantations. This made me think that instead of throwing away these waste materials if they are used for making paper, then the tribal farmers living in this area could benefit more, it would be a sustainable practice and would also provide employment.
Banana fibre possesses several properties that make it suitable for paper making. Firstly, it is abundant and easily available as a byproduct of banana cultivation, making it a sustainable and cost-effective option. Secondly, banana fibre has high tensile strength, which contributes to the durability and longevity of the paper. It also has good flexibility, allowing for easy processing and handling during paper production. Additionally, the fibre has excellent moisture absorption and heat resistance properties, which helps to maintain the stability and quality of the paper. Lastly, banana fibre is naturally rich in lignin and cellulose, essential components for paper formation, making it an ideal choice for eco-friendly and sustainable paper manufacturing.
Koraj Crafts: A Social Development Enterprise
From the seeds of the Wealth Out of Waste (WOW) Project, Koraj Crafts blossomed into a successful social development enterprise after working for over a year. The design studio, based in Chhota Udepur, Gujarat, currently employs over 10 talented local tribal artisans who work with passion and joy. We take pride in respecting the individuality of each of our employees rather than considering them as mere labourers. This approach has led to inspiring success stories, such as that of Kajal Rathva, one of the skilled workers who excelled in painting. On realising Kajal’s talent, we encouraged her to pursue her further studies in fine arts. Soon, she cracked the all-India examination conducted by the Faculty of Fine Arts, M.S. University, Vadodara, opening doors for higher studies in the field of fine arts. Such initiatives serve as motivation for other workers, fostering a culture of excellence and growth within the enterprise.
Empowering the Adivasi Communities
Koraj Crafts goes beyond mere paper production; it strives to uplift the Adivasi communities residing in the area. The establishment of a workshop and training centre at the Adivasi Academy provides a space to train local communities. By imparting skills in paper manufacturing, product packaging, and other related areas, the project creates new avenues of livelihood for the unemployed tribal population, thus bolstering the local economy.
Support from the Buddha Fellowship
This successful journey of developing handmade paper from banana fibre in collaboration with Adivasi communities impressed the Buddha Fellowship Program. Koraj Crafts was awarded the Buddha Fellowship in November 2022, a prestigious program that nurtures and supports aspiring social entrepreneurs. This fellowship played a pivotal role in providing the necessary resources, guidance, and networking opportunities, which fueled the growth and success of Koraj Crafts.
Eco-Friendly Practices and Regional Resources
One of the core principles of Koraj Crafts is its commitment to eco-friendly practices. By using minimal chemicals and relying on natural fibres and resources abundant in the region, the project upholds sustainable and environmentally conscious manufacturing practices. This approach not only minimises harm to the environment but also ensures the production of eco-friendly products that resonate with environment conscious consumers.
Product Development
Koraj Crafts has showcased its creativity and innovation through the development of unique products. The handmade banana paper serves as the foundation for a diverse range of items like handmade papers, diaries, notebooks and journals, packaging materials such as paper bags, stationery, and art prints. The enterprise constantly explores new avenues for product diversification, ensuring a sustainable and scalable business model.
Challenges
While the project has achieved remarkable success, challenges lie ahead, such as marketing the products effectively, ensuring sustainability, and scaling up production. However, the unwavering determination of the employees and the support received from the Adivasi Academy and the Buddha Fellowship helps us carry our vision forward. Nevertheless, we understand that strategic planning, partnerships with like-minded organizations, and continuous community engagement is necessary to overcome the challenges to build a self-sustaining future for the community.
Looking Ahead: The Future of the Project
The future of Koraj Crafts appears bright and promising. The project holds tremendous promise for the Adivasi communities and the region as a whole. The expansion of the enterprise, coupled with ongoing training programs, promises to provide employment opportunities for the Adivasi youth. Presently, we are scaling up the project to expand production near the banana farm outside the Adivasi Academy. We believe that nurturing local talent and leveraging regional resources would uplift communities and drive socio-economic growth in the region to tackle forced migration and unemployment.
Conclusion
Our story reflects the commitment to sustainability, empowerment, and community development. By creating handmade banana paper from discarded banana stems, Koraj Crafts not only contributes to environmental conservation but also provides employment opportunities and economic growth for the Adivasi communities of Chhota Udepur, Gujarat. I believe that as the project continues to evolve, it would create an immensely positive impact on the lives of more people and communities.
Issue #10, 2023 ISSN: 2581- 9410 Introduction Paper, a very ordinary yet powerful surface, always made me curious about all its aspects. Since childhood, I have been wanting to explore paper to its fullest capacity. The Adivasi Academy under Bhasha Research and Publication Centre, Vadodara has acted like a launch-pad for my flight Amid the second wave of the COVID-19 pandemic in April 2021 I-Ravi Raj, a craft design student, embarked on a transformative journey that would lead to the creation of a successful social development enterprise. This article delves into my journey from being a craft design student to a social development entrepreneur. Simultaneously, it explores the sustainable process of developing handmade banana paper and the establishment of Koraj Crafts in the Adivasi area of Chhota Udepur, Gujarat.
The Genesis of Handmade Banana Paper Project
I was a final year post-graduate student at the prestigious Indian Institute of Crafts and Design in Jaipur, Rajasthan. Fueled by a passion for sustainable design and a desire to make a positive impact, I decided to focus on developing colorful handmade paper and packaging designs from banana fibre. To gain the necessary expertise, I underwent a one-week training in handmade paper making at the Kumarappa National Handmade Paper Institute in Sanganer, Jaipur in Rajasthan. Equipped with this knowledge, I arrived at the Adivasi Academy under the Bhasha Research and Publication Centre, Vadodara in the first week of April to commence work on crafting handmade paper. Over a span of six to seven months, I successfully developed a range of handmade papers and packaging using banana fibre and other natural materials like corn husk, grass, bamboo, and mahua.
Further, I set out to establish a fully equipped paper research and development unit at the Adivasi Academy with the support of a one-year fellowship awarded by Bhasha Research and Publication Centre. While working on the project the support I got from the mentors was extremely helpful. I am especially thankful to Dr. Madan Meena, the director of the Adivasi Academy for helping in the initiation of the project and for providing his support thereon. Prof. Om Damani, Sri Ramesh Shah, Sri Amitabh Pandey, Dr. Ritesh Kumar, Dr. Suman Pandey, Dr. Shalu Rastugi, Sri Ved Arya, Sri Girish Agrawal have mentored me at every level of this project.
Wealth Out of Waste: Transforming Banana Stems
Colourful handmade paper from banana fibre, which is considered as a waste material, is taking the Indian paper industry towards a new direction. The consumption and use of paper is done on a large scale all over the world and especially in India. From the invention of paper to its modern revolutionary experiments and uses, paper has become essential in one’s daily life. Since we meet this need from nature, we need to make sure that the impact it has on the environment is eco-friendly. The production process and execution process of paper should therefore be sustainable and environment friendly. With this idea in mind, I began my post-graduation project at the Adivasi Academy in April 2021.
As a part of the project, I had to study, research, develop and document different types of paper making techniques from natural fibres and product making techniques from handmade paper. I successfully developed colourful handmade paper from banana fibre using natural dye.
The Adivasi Academy is situated in the Chhota Udepur district of Gujarat. Chotta Udepur is a tribal dominated area with farming as the major occupation. The farmers of this region cultivate many varieties of trees and plants and must throw away the waste from the field after the harvest. This also included waste from banana plantations. This made me think that instead of throwing away these waste materials if they are used for making paper, then the tribal farmers living in this area could benefit more, it would be a sustainable practice and would also provide employment.
Banana fibre possesses several properties that make it suitable for paper making. Firstly, it is abundant and easily available as a byproduct of banana cultivation, making it a sustainable and cost-effective option. Secondly, banana fibre has high tensile strength, which contributes to the durability and longevity of the paper. It also has good flexibility, allowing for easy processing and handling during paper production. Additionally, the fibre has excellent moisture absorption and heat resistance properties, which helps to maintain the stability and quality of the paper. Lastly, banana fibre is naturally rich in lignin and cellulose, essential components for paper formation, making it an ideal choice for eco-friendly and sustainable paper manufacturing.
Koraj Crafts: A Social Development Enterprise
From the seeds of the Wealth Out of Waste (WOW) Project, Koraj Crafts blossomed into a successful social development enterprise after working for over a year. The design studio, based in Chhota Udepur, Gujarat, currently employs over 10 talented local tribal artisans who work with passion and joy. We take pride in respecting the individuality of each of our employees rather than considering them as mere labourers. This approach has led to inspiring success stories, such as that of Kajal Rathva, one of the skilled workers who excelled in painting. On realising Kajal’s talent, we encouraged her to pursue her further studies in fine arts. Soon, she cracked the all-India examination conducted by the Faculty of Fine Arts, M.S. University, Vadodara, opening doors for higher studies in the field of fine arts. Such initiatives serve as motivation for other workers, fostering a culture of excellence and growth within the enterprise.
Empowering the Adivasi Communities
Koraj Crafts goes beyond mere paper production; it strives to uplift the Adivasi communities residing in the area. The establishment of a workshop and training centre at the Adivasi Academy provides a space to train local communities. By imparting skills in paper manufacturing, product packaging, and other related areas, the project creates new avenues of livelihood for the unemployed tribal population, thus bolstering the local economy.
Support from the Buddha Fellowship
This successful journey of developing handmade paper from banana fibre in collaboration with Adivasi communities impressed the Buddha Fellowship Program. Koraj Crafts was awarded the Buddha Fellowship in November 2022, a prestigious program that nurtures and supports aspiring social entrepreneurs. This fellowship played a pivotal role in providing the necessary resources, guidance, and networking opportunities, which fueled the growth and success of Koraj Crafts.
Eco-Friendly Practices and Regional Resources
One of the core principles of Koraj Crafts is its commitment to eco-friendly practices. By using minimal chemicals and relying on natural fibres and resources abundant in the region, the project upholds sustainable and environmentally conscious manufacturing practices. This approach not only minimises harm to the environment but also ensures the production of eco-friendly products that resonate with environment conscious consumers.
Product Development
Koraj Crafts has showcased its creativity and innovation through the development of unique products. The handmade banana paper serves as the foundation for a diverse range of items like handmade papers, diaries, notebooks and journals, packaging materials such as paper bags, stationery, and art prints. The enterprise constantly explores new avenues for product diversification, ensuring a sustainable and scalable business model.
Challenges
While the project has achieved remarkable success, challenges lie ahead, such as marketing the products effectively, ensuring sustainability, and scaling up production. However, the unwavering determination of the employees and the support received from the Adivasi Academy and the Buddha Fellowship helps us carry our vision forward. Nevertheless, we understand that strategic planning, partnerships with like-minded organizations, and continuous community engagement is necessary to overcome the challenges to build a self-sustaining future for the community.
Looking Ahead: The Future of the Project
The future of Koraj Crafts appears bright and promising. The project holds tremendous promise for the Adivasi communities and the region as a whole. The expansion of the enterprise, coupled with ongoing training programs, promises to provide employment opportunities for the Adivasi youth. Presently, we are scaling up the project to expand production near the banana farm outside the Adivasi Academy. We believe that nurturing local talent and leveraging regional resources would uplift communities and drive socio-economic growth in the region to tackle forced migration and unemployment.
Conclusion
Our story reflects the commitment to sustainability, empowerment, and community development. By creating handmade banana paper from discarded banana stems, Koraj Crafts not only contributes to environmental conservation but also provides employment opportunities and economic growth for the Adivasi communities of Chhota Udepur, Gujarat. I believe that as the project continues to evolve, it would create an immensely positive impact on the lives of more people and communities.
Enchanting Copper coated Iron (Metal) Bells of Gujarat, India,
In January 2010 I formally begin my final year diploma project for craft and design with KHAMIR (Kachchh Heritage, Arts and Craft, Music and Integrated Resources) a registered organization and craft resource center situated in Kachchh, Gujarat, India. . During this trip, I was able to visit and learn about a variety of Gujarat’s craft process, techniques and tradition. I studied and enjoyed my experience with one specific product of craft – that is Metal bells. I have a faint memory of my childhood when my grandfather used to take me to the village, where I heard music while the cow’s walked on the road, now it make sense to me it was nothing other than the bell tied around their neck.
As metal craft jargon is complicated, I will attempt to present it in a way that is easy to use and handy for the reader, potential buyer, marketers, and student of crafts and more specifically for the bell metal makers. Bell metal is my core focus area for specialization for my diploma project funded by Khamir and supported by Indian Institute of Craft and Design, Jaipur. This research talks about pros and cons and opportunity within the bell metal market; moreover it also focus on some of the sensitive issue within the industry.
BELL METALBrief History Many people know that Metal craft originated in Kachchh however it is believed that it is originated in Sindh (Now in Pakistan after the Indo-Pak partition in 1947). Currently, most of the Metal bell making work is done in two Villages – Nirona and Zura, in Gujarat by the Lohars of the Muslim community, their families have been making bells for as far back as they can trace their ancestry. The entire family often involved in the process, however I found women and children are involved in the less technical work. Women’s work is to prepare or to make basic material for instance, mud paste which can eventually provide finishing to the bell. Use of Bell Metal These bells are used to recognize cattle. They are tied around the cattle’s neck so the owner would know of their whereabouts. It is also used at entrance to home and as a decorative musical product, somewhat likes chimes, all the more since their tonal quality is scrupulously crafted. Craft designer and NGO’s are constantly in process to market bell metal product with innovative design and rhythm. When I returned to Australia, I found bell metal products in one of the local store in the form of key chain and a bell with a heart with pearls surrounding it. Some designers are one step ahead! Indian designer need to develop new cost effective design which also attract attention from the target market instead of increasing production of the same product with only minor change. Making of Bell Metal There are fourteen sizes of bells and that are customized for different animals. Size 0 is the smallest and size 13 the largest. The bell is made of iron and coated primarily with copper/Tamba and Brass/Pital, along with a few other metals. They are made from scrap iron sheets which are repeatedly compressed to join together and to give them the requisite shape. The metal parts are neatly joined by expert hands by a locking system without any kind of welding. Then they are coated with powdered copper with the help of mud paste and then heated in a furnace to fix the powdered copper on the surface of the bells. Once cooled and ready, a wooden piece or gong is attached to the centre of the bell for that characteristic sound which is beautifully sonorous. The sound that emanate from each bell depends on the artisan’s skill and three factors: (1) the size and shape of the bell’s body; (2) the size and shape of the wooden strip hanging within the bell and (3) the shape and curve of the bell’s bottom rim. Denting of the bell to get the perfect pitch is also done by hand, by repeated thrashing with a hammer. Bell making in Kutch is a wonderfully sustainable craft as the raw material is metal scrap which is purchased from junk yards and the only use of energy is in the furnace for preparing them. Even the waste generated is miniscule, comprising of small metal scrap and burnt mud. Who make it and who sell it? Please note that the views expressed here are from my research and understanding. The prices that have been taken into consideration are based on a comparative analysis based on available price information on the sales sites on the internet, selling prices in Australia and by export houses in India. I found it very interesting that NGO’s generating very good money out of the selling of bell metal products because their focus of the business is not on the domestic but however export oriented. Generally speaking, one piece of bell metal product in size 12/13 is being sold at $59 US dollar (Rs.2655 INR Rupees) and on the other side, community or individual person who makes it under the guidance of an NGO or designer charges about 250 INR rupees a day where total process may take up to 2 days that means total 500 INR Rupees labor cost that is equivalent to $11.11 US Dollar. The material cost including sheet metal, cost of coal will be around $14 US dollars if it bought from the wholesale market. There is, generally no cost involved in mud paste as, it requires water, red Clay (sand) (that is freely available in local area – as per the statement given by lohar). So it seems to me that the basic cost of the 12/13 size bell metal is about $25.11 US Dollar where the selling price is approximately, $59 US Dollar. Some people would argue that there may be other cost, for example GST, VAT however it is now well known that this cost paid by the customer on the top of the amount so basic margin of the seller (NGO’s, Business Organization) will be about $33.89 US dollar that means 57.44% marginal profit. This is one of the few segments where big companies do not want to enter and it has great potential. What about other - the Lohar’s side? There is other side of this business that is the maker - the Lohar who are not getting paid enough. I am of the opinion, that due to lack of marketing and educational skills, they are unable to target their market, consequently intermediary like NGO’s, Organisations, or designers come into the motion and digest most of the profit. NGO’s are meant to support local community however sometimes policy and action plan are different because policy represent compliance with legislation however action plan of the NGO’s and business represent need of growth and profitability. The Lohar has more work available however their quality of life remains unchanged due to decreasing profit. It seems to me that the Lohar makes 18.83% profit whereas Organization makes 57.44%. Craft industry in India is weird as people who have skilled and art in them, get paid less but it is also a responsibility of government to set up training center, export fair and to work in partnership with Lohar directly in order to achieve overall success. Another important point is payment, even if the Lohar makes $11.11 US dollar profit; they do not get their labor payment on time. Moreover material cost is invested by the Lohar whereas they borrow money from the local market to fund their bell metal work. So now when they pay off their interest, eventually they receive $10/$10.50 US Dollars. Unfortunately, Microfinance is still not easily available in rural area where they craft industry setting up for a year of years. In order to remain a part of business, Lohar has to keep invested $150US Dollar at any given time for the huge money making NGO’s, Businesses and designers. Potential of Bell Metal Market To support bell metal production and sell, export is mandatory and handicraft products are always in high demand all over the world however considering the statistic (2008-09) provided by Export Promotion Council for Handicrafts, India (EPCH) It has been noticed that US (27.57%), U.K (10.55%) and Germany (9.10%) are the highest importer of Indian handicraft product. Organization should conduct research in relation to the potential of bell metal products in other country where import of Indian craft still need a push for example Australia (1.32%) it is a country with plenty of craft creativity people and consumer. Business should focus on such a target market. In a Nutshell There are many good organization for instance Khamir who provides service and resource to conduct proper research and development for the welfare of community that engaged in handicraft, bell metal products and for their empowerment. The entire bell metal business system should be internally consistent and mutually supportive that means everybody makes profit while working but no one should aim profit by taking advantage of lack of community and knowledge access of bell metal maker, which is lohar. Below is some photography of bell metal making that I captured during my visit to Nirona. When you percept the cost of the Lohar for making product viewing these photograph you come to know it is a skills investment rather than money however when the product being sold to market it makes good profit but allocation of the profit is inappropriate, which is the current constrained of this industry. All photos are taken by Karnav shah.
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Enforced Isolation, The Remarkable Artistic Response of Sonabai Rajawar
The Poetics and Politics of Indian Folk and Tribal Art
Issue #005, Summer, 2020 ISSN: 2581- 9410
Our entire world is in lock-down. Can you imagine what it would be like if that were to continue for fifteen years? To be alone, truly alone, with only your spouse and infant child as company for a full fifteen years, seeing and being seen by no one else? No radio, no television, no computer, no printed materials, no contact with the outside world? What would your response be? Mine might be desperation and depression. If I were to express myself creatively, as I am wont to do, my art might easily be as dark as my desolate mood. During the current pandemic, when most of us on earth need to socially distance ourselves, to practice self-isolation so as not to catch or spread Covid-19, I remember the phenomenal story of Sonabai Rajawar. Around 1930, Sonabai was born to a poor farming family in a tiny village in Surguja District, an extremely remote part of what was then the Central Provinces of British India. She never knew her exact age or her birth year. Just before Indian independence, when the girl was fifteen, her parents arranged her marriage to someone she had never seen, a custom prevalent in those days. Her new husband, Holi Ram Rajawar, was a far older man, a widower who farmed his own rice paddies and supplemented that meager income by contracting to build local houses on the side. For their first ten years of married life, the two lived in his parents’ home in his village of Puhputra. When Sonabai did not become pregnant, Holi Ram and his family felt ashamed that she appeared to be barren. However, she finally gave birth to their only child, a son, in 1953. Soon after that, Holi Ram decided to build a house far outside his community’s boundaries. Isolated homes are rare in India; societies are dependent upon close-knit communities. Under his guidance, the couple constructed their own mud-wall home in a style common to the region: simple rooms and a barn enclosing an interior courtyard. Since the focus of all household activities was inward, toward the well-lit central courtyard, the exterior walls had no windows and only one door. Once the house was complete, Holi Ram closed and bolted that door. No one was permitted entrance, and Sonabai was not allowed out. For the next fifteen years, she could not speak to anyone but her husband and their child. Her parents, siblings and friends were turned away. Of course, Holi Ram continued to work outside, and when their son Daroga was old enough to attend school, his father would take him out of the house for that purpose and to play with his friends. Sonabai, although not physically bound, was her husband’s prisoner. In many parts of India it is not unusual for women to be secluded from common concourse with men from outside their immediate families. Ancient texts and reports suggest that this practice spread in India only after the first Muslim invasions of the eighth century. Throughout their history, South Asian women have always enjoyed a wide sorority of female friends and family. Each region of the subcontinent has a vibrant subculture of women’s customs, lore, stories, and rituals. Many claim that these legacies are the true foundation of South Asian society. But in her extraordinary situation, Sonabai lacked all human contact, male or female, except with her husband and son. Sonabai reacted to her isolation in a way unique in India’s long history. She invented an original style of art. Her initial purpose was purely practical: She had no access to the market and had no toys for her young son. At first, she constructed dolls for him using bits of cloth, but he was an active little boy and these were not entertaining enough. Then she had an inspiration. Sonabai remembered that while local houses were being constructed and the mud of the walls still wet, the women of her village had sculpted the clay surrounding their doorways into pleasant floral and geometric shapes that they painted with natural ochre pigments. Although trapped inside, this isolated woman still had access to clay. Holi Ram had dug a deep well inside their house. She discovered that its edges and the floors of the courtyard and barn were naturally composed of clay that was perfect for sculpting. Sonabai had no training as an artist but found that she could use her hands to mold simple forms that she left to dry in the sun. Within days, her toddler Daroga had a variety of toys to play with: horses, dogs, tigers, elephants, and soldiers. Although they were brittle and broke often, Sonabai could soak the shards and and have fresh clay to create replacements. Soon she realized that if she reinforced them with a core of bamboo sticks wrapped in straw, the toys lasted longer. Bamboo was plentiful in their home, stored in their barn as part of Holi Ram’s construction business. He did not mind her using scraps or decorating their home as long as she kept the interior of the house clean and their son and him well fed. After a year or two of sculpting toys, Sonabai had a further epiphany. She realized she could apply her sculptures to her walls and transform the interior of her home with bas-reliefs. Within months, she decorated every wall of her home with her art. Her vision was entirely unlike anything that existed in other houses in her region nor, although she did not know it, anywhere else in India. With no one either to instruct her or limit her artistic expression, she experimented with different techniques. She discovered that the only way she could get her sculptures to adhere was by covering the surface first with a fresh layer of mud. To this, she could add rolls and dowels of clay to create foliate forms and trees whose branches held monkeys sculpted in the same technique as the toys. She could fashion dancing men and women, musicians, flights of birds or barnyard animals: anything that caught her fanciful imagination. Confined to her home, Sonabai began to recreate what she longed for: her community, the surrounding forests, and the animals that lived in them. Without access to commercial pigments, Sonabai whitewashed her walls and then decorated her bas-reliefs with the red and yellow ochres that Holi Ram used for his construction jobs. She experimented with making other colors using the limited spices and foods in her kitchen and soon discovered that she could use charcoal for adding black to eyes or beaks. She loved the multidimensionality of her figures and wanted more of their details to stand out from the walls. That was when she realized that if she unwound the hemp used in old rope, she could apply it as hair to her figures of women and as manes and tails to horses, lions, and tigers. Months of each year are broiling hot in Sonabai’s new village of Phuphutra, now part of the Indian State of Chhattisgarh. With no exterior windows and no open doors, Sonabai’s home became almost unbearable. The roofed verandah that encircled the courtyard gave shade, but inadequate ventilation. Sometime in the first several years of her confinement, Sonabai realized that she could draw the wind down into her courtyard with latticework walls. Lattice, called jali in India, had been used in other regions for this purpose for centuries, but never in Sonabai’s district. She was entirely unfamiliar with the concept and, as far as she knew, had invented it. Using a sharp knife, she pared off strips of bamboo, then curled them into circles, binding them with palm fiber. Connecting several circles together, she covered their surfaces with fresh clay, then joined more and more of them to form a large lattice that she stretched between the clay columns that supported her verandah roof. While these lattices were still damp, she added sculptures. Snakes sinuously entwined their way through some of the circles. In others, sculpted human figures played flutes or drums. Sonabai had invented an entirely new way of creating jalis that are unlike any others in India’s long history. Over the years, as her son Daroga grew and ventured further afield and she remained at home, Sonabai continued her artistic transformation of their home. She changed and adapted her bas-reliefs and lattices until she perfected her techniques. Then, after imposing solitude on his wife for fifteen years, Holi Ram opened the outside door and let in the neighbors. By the time I first visited Sonabai, years had passed since her confinement, and Holi Ram was dead. In my subsequent years interviewing her, her family and their neighbors, no one would clearly explain why she had been imprisoned. I can only make assumptions. It may be that her husband was jealous of her youthful beauty and wanted no one else to experience it. Perhaps by the time she had reached her thirtieth birthday, he thought she had lost that appeal. Whatever his reasons for ending her isolation, Sonabai was finally free to come and go. The villagers were naturally curious about what had transpired during those absent years. They confided to me that what they saw when they entered her house astonished them. They were impressed, but in those early years of Indian independence, the country was still impoverished from the devastating effects of British colonialism. Puhputra was in a remote area cut off from mainstream culture. Everyone was too focused on simply feeding their families to give much thought to the creative endeavors of one oddly isolated woman. Sonabai’s natural shyness had increased during her solitary years. Although she could now enter the market and make new friends, she was reluctant to do so. Her natal village, family, and childhood friends were too far away to see often. For sixteen more years years, Sonabai’s life in her remote surroundings continued much as it always had. In 1983, Sonabai’s life irrevocably changed: She was discovered and acclaimed by the outside world. Her state’s capital city, Bhopal, opened a new, innovative museum. Called the Roopankar Gallery, part of the larger Bharat Bhawan, its expressed goal was to exhibit contemporary urban art alongside works created by local folk and tribal artists. Scouts circulated throughout the large state to find good indigenous examples. As they surveyed Surguja District, they heard about Sonabai. One of them told me that when they entered her home, they were dumbfounded. Sonabai’s canvas was the entire interior of her house. Inside she had created a magnificent visual raga of color, form, and whimsy unlike anything they had ever seen. They were determined to take examples back to Bhopal to show their superiors. Sonabai shyly refused their request, stating that the sculptures were her children. Determined, they gave money to Holi Ram, who loaned them a pickaxe to tear down one wall to take with them. Sonabai was crushed but was powerless to stop them. From that day forward, change came quickly. Swaminathan, the museum’s director, was thrilled by his scouts’ discovery. His deputy returned to Puhputra to commission more sculptures and jalis from Sonabai for a solo exhibition to which he invited some of New Delhi’s artistic elite. The director of the National Crafts Museum attended and was so impressed that he nominated Sonabai for the Rashtrapati Purushkar (the President’s Award), the highest honor India can bestow on an artist. When Sonabai reluctantly traveled to Delhi to receive the award, her 31-year-old son, Daroga Ram, accompanied her. The artist received a bronze medal and a check for more money than her family had ever seen. In just two years, she had grown from obscurity to fame. In 1986, Sonabai and Daroga were flown to San Diego, California. With Daroga assisting her, Sonabai spent two months in Mingei International Museum, demonstrating her art as part of an exhibition I co-curated about Indian terra-cotta. Sonabai’s experience in America must have been confusing, so beyond her scope of reference that she entirely blocked it out. When I interviewed her about her it years later, she had retained no memory of America whatsoever, although Daroga had loved the trip and grown through it. Upon their return from the U.S., Sonabai would have preferred to resume her quiet lifestyle. Yet again, her wishes were disregarded. For the rest of her life, the next twenty-three years, her art was in high demand. She was given exhibitions at the National Crafts Museum in Delhi and elsewhere in India, invited to demonstrate her craft at festivals and fairs, and commissioned to create artworks for India’s fashionable wealthy. Although Sonabai longed for anonymity in Puhputra, her husband and family were glad of the substantial boost to their income her fame brought. Daroga was now married with children of his own. This new financial resource extended Holi Ram’s farms and would provide substantial dowries for the couple’s two granddaughters. Sonabai remarked that this was the best part of it all: that her work would ensure that she could find good husbands for these girls. In 1991, the scope of her art expanded when the federal government gave her a stipend to teach her artistic techniques and style to ten local artists. Several of these younger men and women excelled at these skills, developing creative expressions directly inspired by the vision of this modest, talented visionary. Now their work was also in demand for exhibitions and festivals, some of them overseas. The income of their families and the community substantially improved, as did the profile of the entire region. That effect is still being felt today, years after Sonabai’s death. My personal experience of entering Sonabai’s home changed my life. I had already spent decades surveying and documenting folk arts and crafts throughout India. I have developed a deep admiration for the innovation, eloquence, and creative insights of Indian artists and artisans. But suddenly, I encountered an entire environment that expressed one woman’s unique vision. Everywhere I looked, her genius surrounded me. I had met Sonabai many times elsewhere as she demonstrated her art. I thought I knew her work well. I did not. A friend who accompanied me stated: “Sonabai’s house is like entering a cathedral – entirely different and yet equally as magnificent, even holy.” I entered through the barn, the only access to the interior. I was dazzled by a wall directly in front of me covered by a green-leafed tree filled with monkeys picking and eating ripe fruit. It’s humor carried with me as I walked through a dark inner grain storage and grinding room and into the bright space of the home’s interior courtyard. In the foreground was a series of brightly painted and sculpted jalis (lattices) connecting the pillars that supported the shade awning. This passage surrounded the center of household activity. Snakes entwined themselves through the jalis, while musicians played, women danced, and parrots sang: all part of Sonabai’s remarkable dreamworld. Layered behind and alongside these pierced portals were walls alive with bas-reliefs: sculptures that joyfully, whimsically depicted a wide variety of rural life. And each room radiating beyond this central core contained sculptures. I immediately realized that although Sonabai had applied her artwork throughout her home, she was also a master of negative space. Nothing was overcrowded: All had been executed with a highly refined eye. Before that experience, I was a cross-cultural surveyor who compared and contrasted the art of one Indian region with that of another. I had assiduously avoided working with a single artist and had no desire to write a monograph. Sonabai changed all that. I worked closely with her until she died in 2007 at the approximate age of eighty. We developed a mutual respect, perhaps even a friendship, although she was always painfully shy. I interviewed her for a book and a film and, with her encouragement, commissioned her last large installation. Together with her son Daroga Ram and the other local artists she had influenced, we created a major exhibition at the same museum in San Diego in which the mother and son had worked and exhibited twenty-two years earlier. A year before that exhibition opened, Sonabai gently died at home. Her loss deeply saddened me. Daroga Ram and his wife Rajenbai came to California to help install the show, and yet again, the viewing public was ecstatic. Sonabai: Another Way of Seeing remains the most popular exhibition that Mingei International Museum has ever held. At that time, I recognized that Sonabai’s message is universal. Subjected to conditions that might crush another person, she had transformed her life into an uplifting expression of beauty and joy. Now, in 2020, when throughout the world we are told to isolate ourselves and stay at home, I am again drawn to Sonabai’s remarkable creative inspiration. I can resent my confinement and grumble that I am unable to conduct my usual activities — or I can embrace this opportunity to create a new vision of life, another way of seeing.Photo Captions 1) Sonabai Rajawar in 2004 © Stephen P. Huyler 2) Sonabai Rajawar in 2004 © Stephen P. Huyler 3) Holi Ram & Sonabai’s house © Stephen P. Huyler 4) Sonabai created clay toys for her toddler son © Stephen P. Huyler 5) Sonabai painting a clay horse for her son © Stephen P. Huyler 6) Sonabai invented the technique of adding hemp hair to her figures. © Stephen P. Huyler 7) A clay monkey eating fruit © Stephen P. Huyler 8) The entrance into Sonabai’s barn reveals a wall adorned with a tree filled with monkeys. © Stephen P. Huyler 9) Sonabai created latticework by joining circles of bamboo strips surfaced with clay.© Stephen P. Huyler 10) Sonabai created latticework by joining circles of bamboo strips surfaced with clay.© Stephen P. Huyler 11) She placed birds and other figures in her lattices. © Stephen P. Huyler 12) A flute-player, parrot and cobra animate one of her jalis. © Stephen P. Huyler 13) Three green parrots add color and dimension to a lattice wall © Stephen P. Huyler 14) One of the finished walls that surround Sonabai’s courtyard. © Stephen P. Huyler 15) One of the finished walls that surround Sonabai’s courtyard. © Stephen P. Huyler 16) Note the negative space of this wall and doorway. © Stephen P. Huyler 17) As Sonabai aged, she taught her daughter-in-law and granddaughters how to sculpt in her style. Here three generations sculpt together. © Stephen P. Huyler 18) The interior of Sonabai’s house when first viewed by scouts in 1983. © Jyoti Bhatt 19) The interior of Sonabai’s house when first viewed by scouts in 1983. © Jyoti Bhatt 20) Sonabai Rajawar in 1983 © Jyoti Bhatt
Ethical Fashion Show, Paris (9-12 September),
| This fashion show has been the culmination of all efforts and collaboration. The launching collection was shown and the project was presented. Both have received extremely positive feedback and project has been now placed on an international forum due to this exposure. Companies, industry associates and designers have offered to collaborate with the weavers and many people have been moved by the project. We are in touch with the interested individuals and companies. Feedback received has shown us that our weavers now have the potential (with direction from the right creative source) to move beyond their village into the global textile and fashion market.UNESCO, Paris (September) A one day conference was held in UNSECO in Paris, to celebrate the 40th anniversary of establishment of Auroville. The Varanasi Weavers project was presented to a 700 strong audience. This was a great forum to create and spread awareness of the project. Much appreciation and feedback was recieved about the project.The Varanasi Weavers project is funded by Bestseller Foundation, Denmark |  |
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Etikoppaka,
In the first few months with Dastkar in Andhra one of the places I visited was Etikoppaka, a small and remote village in Visakhapatnam district. Chitti Raju, the head of the local landowning family was extremely hospitable. He took a keen interest in the local craft of lathe-turned and lacquered wood, and had often paid from his pocket the fines imposed on the artisans by the forest department because they ‘illegally’ helped themselves to the ‘ponniki’ [Wrightia tinctoria] wood for their craft. The Etikoppaka artisans were at the time of my first visit somewhat shaken by the following incident: An English designer had come to the village some months before and offered to give them some new designs free of cost. The artisans had demanded that she pay for their time and materials to make the samples, to which she did not agree. Instead, she had gone to a neighbouring village and worked with an NGO that according to Chitti Babu had lured away artisans from Etikoppaka. Not only had she got the new designs made, but had got an order for them worth one lakh rupees!
In the first few months with Dastkar in Andhra one of the places I visited was Etikoppaka, a small and remote village in Visakhapatnam district. Chitti Raju, the head of the local landowning family was extremely hospitable. He took a keen interest in the local craft of lathe-turned and lacquered wood, and had often paid from his pocket the fines imposed on the artisans by the forest department because they ‘illegally’ helped themselves to the ‘ponniki’ [Wrightia tinctoria] wood for their craft. The Etikoppaka artisans were at the time of my first visit somewhat shaken by the following incident: An English designer had come to the village some months before and offered to give them some new designs free of cost. The artisans had demanded that she pay for their time and materials to make the samples, to which she did not agree. Instead, she had gone to a neighbouring village and worked with an NGO that according to Chitti Babu had lured away artisans from Etikoppaka. Not only had she got the new designs made, but had got an order for them worth one lakh rupees!
Whoever she was, that woman made things easy for me because the Etikoppaka artisans immediately agreed to make the designs I suggested. I was at that time a consultant to Lepakshi, the State craft shop, and could place orders on their behalf. After that first visit I went to Etikoppaka regularly to place orders, to work out new designs with the craftspeople, and to try and get the artisans to work together as a group. Fortunately all the new designs sold well in Lepakshi though the artisans never really worked together as a group. Chitti Raju was delighted with the success of the new designs. He enthusiastically took up my suggestion to invite our natural dyeing guru Chandramouli to the village, Chandramouli was just as enthusiastic about teaching and that was how natural dyes were re-introduced into lacquered wood craft. Once the craftsmen began to reap the benefits of the new designs, there was no turning back, and several designers and design students have increased the range of products made for urban tastes. Today, seventeen years later, the artisans who use natural dyes are selling their products through craft bazaars and shops all over the country. Black is made from chimney soot, and turmeric yellow has replaced the poisonous titanium dioxide. Annatto seeds soaked overnight produce bright orange and green comes from indigo.
During my early visits old master craftsmen were still living, who used the traditional hand-turned lathe, rather than the motorized lathes used by all the other younger craftsmen. The lathe turner, also an old man, sat on a small stool in front of the craftsman and used a leather strap to turn the lathe at a signal – a grunt – from the craftsman. The co-ordination between the turner and the craftsman who had worked together for years, the master’s fine judgement and highly developed control over the material, much higher with the hand-turned than with the mechanized lathe, were a pleasure to see. The master craftsmen produced bowls of exquisite fineness, but of course economics eventually put an end to hand-turning. Back in Hyderabad I told my civil engineer uncle about the hand-lathes. “Yes”, he said “I saw them used when I was a student in England, at Sheffield, in 1928.”
Though I did not in those days work with handloom weavers I used to try and find out as much as I could about weaving. In Etikoppaka there was only one old weaver and his wife left, and I went to see him. He told me that there used to be 110 weaving families, [in a village population of about 2,000 households] but that they had all given up weaving and left the village a few years before when powerloom cloth began to be sold in local markets, undercutting handloom fabric. He and his wife had not gone with them because he had no children and he himself could not read and write. I mentioned this to Chitti Raju who told me: I was walking on the beach in Visakhapatnam some years ago with my daughter when I heard cries of “Chitti Babu, Chitti Babu,” Who are you, I asked and the men replied “We are weavers from your village”. They had given up weaving and were earning their living as small vendors selling chana and phalli on the Visakhapatnam beach.
During my early visits old master craftsmen were still living, who used the traditional hand-turned lathe, rather than the motorized lathes used by all the other younger craftsmen. The lathe turner, also an old man, sat on a small stool in front of the craftsman and used a leather strap to turn the lathe at a signal – a grunt – from the craftsman. The co-ordination between the turner and the craftsman who had worked together for years, the master’s fine judgement and highly developed control over the material, much higher with the hand-turned than with the mechanized lathe, were a pleasure to see. The master craftsmen produced bowls of exquisite fineness, but of course economics eventually put an end to hand-turning. Back in Hyderabad I told my civil engineer uncle about the hand-lathes. “Yes”, he said “I saw them used when I was a student in England, at Sheffield, in 1928.”
Though I did not in those days work with handloom weavers I used to try and find out as much as I could about weaving. In Etikoppaka there was only one old weaver and his wife left, and I went to see him. He told me that there used to be 110 weaving families, [in a village population of about 2,000 households] but that they had all given up weaving and left the village a few years before when powerloom cloth began to be sold in local markets, undercutting handloom fabric. He and his wife had not gone with them because he had no children and he himself could not read and write. I mentioned this to Chitti Raju who told me: I was walking on the beach in Visakhapatnam some years ago with my daughter when I heard cries of “Chitti Babu, Chitti Babu,” Who are you, I asked and the men replied “We are weavers from your village”. They had given up weaving and were earning their living as small vendors selling chana and phalli on the Visakhapatnam beach.
Evolution in Crafts, Negotiating the Handmade and the Machine-made
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Over the last several years we have seen a significant growth in design experiments internationally, which combine the latest cutting edge technology with traditional hand-processes. As India and other developing countries with evolved hand-craft traditions grapple with more immediate questions of locating a space for them within rapid mechanization, and making available a better quality of life for the craftspeople; the world over, crafts themselves are being redefined through new technologies and individual expressions. This is giving rise to new forms and shapes, aesthetic and textural qualities and at times, to new functional attributes altogether. For most western and developed countries this has been a natural process. With hand-manufacture having died as a mode and means of everyday production, hand-processes have acquired a considerable niche and novel value. This development has resulted in such products fitting into various segments of production, sale and of consumer use - one, through hand-crafted, high-end products of luxury brands and two, as products of antique and ethnic value. Third - and which I bring under discussion here - is the phenomena of such hand-processes having elevated themselves from such ‘everyday manufacture’ value to being art expressions; often seen as, and engaging with sculpture, painting and other fine arts. These are also often sold through art galleries and agents who are otherwise engaged in art trade. Why such craft-technology has not developed in any form in the country shows the complex situations that the country faces with regard to mechanisation, and the search for what belongs to a community and to the individual in the Indian context. Intertwined within such situations, at every stage and level, are questions of choice. And these choices are critical in defining the future of Indian aesthetics and the role of our material culture in participating in societal debate and change. There is on the one hand, the need and value for a new breed of Indian designers and artists, for whom such crafts could be a medium of individual expression. On the other hand, are the fragile contexts within which these crafts have evolved and thereby find their unique place in the international context by strengthening diversity and cultural nuances. There are an increasing number of Indian designers, who have begun to make their inroads into this uncharted territory, most often through specialized educational programmes in international design schools and universities. While on the one hand this is welcome news, there is also a need to pause and enquire into this phenomena. The discussion on the interaction between mechanized and hand technology gives rise to several questions in the Indian context. And the resolution of these questions can inform the very definitions of crafts in the country for their future. They could also help to forge new uniquely Indian aesthetics, showcasing the country’s creativity at its genius best through stimulating traditional-contemporary dialogues. Therein, can also lie India’s most defining opportunity and challenge. Deeply embedded in any such enquiries and experiments must be an understanding of the affordances the mechanized and hand technologies have in the country, which are often socio-economic and cultural; and further which rest on precarious needs and realities of the Indian craftspeople. That crafts in the country must evolve is a valid argument, and indeed they cannot survive if they are to not evolve. But what does evolution mean in the crafts context? Is there one monolithic process of evolution around the world for hand-crafts? And most importantly, what does this evolution enable? One view here can be that the way forward for crafts is to encourage their conversation with mechanized technology. This assumes that within an evolution of manufacture and production, mechanization is an inevitability where mechanized technology interventions are the only natural extensions of these crafts. There is no doubt here that dialogues with such technology can play an important role in articulating newness in product, process, design and expression, which are the constant needs and demands of any time. What is essential to assess here, is the role mechanised technology has played so far, and what its implications can be in the long run on the crafts sector at large. We have seen that in most parts of the country, powerlooms have entered the manufacturing scene by their ability to provide handloom replicas at a much cheaper cost. The mushrooming of powerlooms across the country has rapidly begun to shrink the production, consumer and aesthetic base of handlooms. This brings me to my first concern: that through the process of such technology-craft dialogues, it is possible to provide the crafts sector with alternatives of replication, for doing what it does best through machine processes, thereby affecting its original textural and aesthetic qualities. We have seen the recent crisis in Varanasi with regard to the massive flooding of local markets with cheaper, machine-made replicas of traditional brocades. The Chinese have developed machines which can replicate Kutchi embroideries, and that they are already being imported into the country. Recently, there have been reports of Italian machines having mastered the art of Jamdani, the intricate labour-intensive skill which originally belonged to Bengal. 1Not too long ago, a famous international designer tried screen printing on warps to simulate the Ikat effect… Such mechanisation is not restricted to textile manufacture alone. A trip to the Chawdi Bazaar market in Delhi will show you that even religious statues of Indian Gods and Goddesses are now being manufactured in China, with uncanny precision within a matter of seconds. (It is quite likely that your recent Diwali statue of Laxmi was made in China). Is it only matter of time, when our neighbourhood terracota potters will no longer be seen with their clay pots piled by the dozens in numerous shapes and sizes? Evolution of crafts can also mean, apart from such ‘obvious mechanisation’, an evolution in its consumer and market bases, its uses and functions and in the nature of the economic structures which support it. It could also mean reinstating the relevance of their original forms, examining such qualities and the reasons for their survival. Is it not a matter of enquiry, why in spite of several developments which could have changed the vocabulary of traditional designs, they survive in their original forms in the country? While there is a constant reference to the ever-changing aspects of craft traditions, the Indian example has shown that in spite of such changes, it has been in fact the common non-change which has characterised it more prominently. This shows a deep-rootedness of the Indian culture, which in my view, both defines us as a people and cultural system; and further gives us our special place in the world. It is also this very rootedness which can propel innovation using individual creativity, enabling artistic journeys which use community-knowledges. Within such an argument, those technologies and processes considered most primitive by many present standards - hand-spinning, vegetable and lac dyeing, hand-made felt, and so on, acquire a special space. These ancient technologies give India a unique space, both notionally and materially. While we, within the country might find them stale and retrogressive, their role internationally can be enormous. The second aspect of such craft-technology dialogues is related to the above discussion: How different can such craft-technology experiments be in India? When the tools of mechanised technology remain largely the same throughout the world, what is it that differentiates Indian products on aesthetics in comparison to those in Japan, Scandinavia, in the UK and Vietnam…? There is a common tendency in many attempts to contemporarise crafts in India and elsewhere, to highlight more universal forms, colours and forms to enable them to find space in international markets. The use of traditional motifs, colours, and forms are often seen as too ‘ethnic’ for global audiences. The result has been that very often, products from India may not look different from those made in other countries. Such attempts therefore do not help in finding any unique space for Indian designers, artists and their expressions; in the process they contribute to only heighten those very homogenising influences that crafts are in a position to challenge. The third aspect is the employment imperative. In such arguments it is easy to forget that a big challenge facing most countries at the moment is unemployment; and the role of such creative, skilled manufacture is enormous. The questions to be asked in such light are also on the implications for such experiments - which if introduced on a small-scale today, could take on mass-scale proportions tomorrow. What are the human costs of such displacement - economic, cultural, political - so caused? The beginning of one such success in India, perhaps the first (I, of course will be delighted to know more of such experiments!) of its kind has been shown by the remarkable work done by Jigisha Patel Singh, a fresh graduate of textile design from the National Institute of Design. Her fascination with the crafts of Kutch led her to explore technology-hand process dialogues in felt-making in Gujarat. In this, the intricate skill of hand laying layers of felted wool and dyeing were combined with the more mechanical process of felt-making itself. The result was a range of felted rugs which are rich with hand improvisations and combine the durability and steadiness of machine-made felt. While many such experiments might have been carried out in smaller ways by Indian students, what places this experiment at the vanguard is how it has shown the possibility of an assured revival of the dyeing and felt appliqué processes in Kutch, at the same time an improvement in Indian felt qualities for export and new markets which might not have absorbed hand-made felt. It has also, done away with the more mechanical part of the traditional process by focusing on the affordances of the hand to place, cut, dye and lay in layers with spontaneity and improvisations, thereby retaining those creative parts which offer scope for individuality and personal expression. The challenge before us is manifold, but can be addressed at different levels. For designers and artists, it requires a more careful consideration of the contexts of the traditions they are working under. The question of the individual placed within larger cultural constraints can be an exciting and much-needed discourse. Both hand-processes and machine-processes have their own attributes, their own capabilities and their own unique possibilities. And as much as the phenomena of finding cheaper, mechanized methods of doing labour-intensive work has its own advantages, such intentions must not hamper the chances of an even-playing field for intricate and sophisticated hand crafts. |