weaving something, like “perebory”, and then reach a point where I can’t stand to look at them anymore. At that point, I switch to something else. I can’t imagine weaving the same thing over and over.
[M.K.] Where do you find inspiration? [E.M.] I find inspiration everywhere. Sometimes I go through old photos of textiles, bedspreads, and patterns that I captured with my first camera phone back in 2006. Back then, I would visit weavers, document their work, and now, years later, I look at those photos and discover new ideas. There are also moments when a particular pattern just catches my eye — I see it and immediately know I want to recreate it on the loom. [M.K.] What are the biggest challenges when weaving “perebory”, and how do you overcome them? [E.M.] The biggest challenge for me is maintaining motivation and pushing myself to work through the middle section of the fabric. The beginning always goes quickly. The end is easy too, because you can already see the results and want to finish. But the middle? That’s when monotony sets in, and you have to force yourself to keep going. Once you get through the middle, it’s smooth sailing. In the beginning, when I was just starting out, I often abandoned “perebory” halfway through. I didn’t have the patience, so I would only weave “perebory” borders and finish the rest with multi-shaft weaving. It wasn’t until I started weaving on commission that I learned persistence. Knowing someone was waiting for the finished piece made me push through to the end. [M.K.] Do you have preferences when it comes to colors and types of yarn? [E.M.] When it comes to colors, I’ve noticed I’m particularly drawn to shades of green. I use them often and try to choose classic combinations like black and white. I enjoy natural, traditional hues that evoke old patterns and fabrics. I’m also inspired by the rich, colorful combinations found in antique bedspreads, al- though I’m sometimes hesitant to use bold colors myself. In terms of patterns, I’m fascinated by older, more graphic designs that resemble zoomorphic motifs — chickens, turkeys, and other animals. They’re intriguing and have a unique quality compared to later, more embroidery-like patterns. For materials, I usually use cotton for the warp because it’s strong and works best for “perebory”. Linen is rarely suitable for the warp — it’s too delicate and easily tears under tension or from rubbing against the boards and strings. However, for the ground weave, I like using linen because it helps maintain the fabric’s width and prevents the finished piece from wavering. I have mixed feelings about wool — mainly because I’m afraid of moths. You put so much effort into weaving, and then moths can destroy it, rendering all that hard work meaningless. [M.K.] What advice would you give to beginners who want to learn the “perebory” technique? [E.M.] The most important advice I can give is the same one my grandmother always told me: You must warp and weave a bedspread. There’s no shortcut — you simply have to push yourself to complete one large project. You might weave that coverlet for a month, two months, or even a year, but once you finish, you’ll become a master of “perebory”. Weaving a large project teaches patience, develops muscle memory, and allows your hands to move automatically. Over time, you stop thinking about what you’re doing — your hands instinctively know how to set the boards and shift the threads. This is something you can’t achieve by working on small samples alone. I remember not weaving *perebory* for two years. When I came back to it, I thought, “How did I do this?” I found myself second-guessing every movement and even called one of my students to remind me of the process. But as soon as I started weaving, my hands found their rhythm again.
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Woven Heritage Interviews
Tkane Dziedzictwo Wywiady
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