One can only rejoice at the release of a new, expanded edition of one of the world’s best books on weaving. “On Weaving” is an absolute masterpiece written by Anni Albers, one of the most talented and creative artists of the 20th century. Printed several times since its first publication in 1965, this new version features full-cover photographs instead of the book’s original black-and-white illustrations, as well as an afterword by Nicholas Fox Weber, executive director of The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation and essays by Manuel Cirauqui and T’ai Smith.
Weber writes in the afterword that Albers “took the art of textiles into realms that are glorious guideposts for all people for all time.” Albers revolutionized the way people looked at textiles, she also gave weavers and designers whose inspiration was stifled a breath of fresh air. She opened new channels of creativity, suggesting unforeseen possibilities, new ways of combining visual and structural work in thread, art and design.
“How do we choose our specific material, our means of communication? Accidentally, something speaks to us, a sound, touch, hardness or softness, it catches us and asks us to be formed. We are finding our language and as we go along we learn to obey its rules and its limits,” Albers once said.
And indeed, Albers found her medium, weaving, by accident. In 1922, at the age of 23, Albers was accepted into Bauhaus, a pioneering school in Germany whose mission was to teach the role of functional art and design to everyone, regardless of wealth and class. Bauhaus provided courses in various specialties, such as woodworking, metal, wall painting and glass. Most women at the time chose to enter the weaving workshop whereas Albers preferred to study the art of glasswork. However, Walter Gropius, who founded Bauhaus, believed that it was not advisable that women work in the heavy crafts areas, such as carpentry and he said: “For this reason, a women’s section has been formed at the Bauhaus (School), which works particularly with textiles, bookbinding and pottery.”
Ambitious and eager to know more about the history of textiles, Albers visited ethnological museums in Berlin and Munich and read “Les Tissus Indiens du Vieux Perou” by Marguerite and Raoul d’Harcourt, which introduced her to the ancient textile art of Peru. She would eventually consider the Peruvian weavers as “her greatest teachers” because nearly all the existing methods of weaving had been used in ancient Peru.
During her early years as an artist, Albers was profoundly influenced by Paul Klee who repeatedly insisted that the ultimate form of an artistic work was not as significant as the process leading to it. Klee also introduced her to his use of formal experimentation and graffiti-like markings, which he believed could nurture the subconscious. Albers adopted this concept and integrated it into her abstract tapestries.
This book takes the reader on a journey of discovery of an ancient craft, one that has remains essentially unchanged to this day. The book’s first chapter, “Weaving, Hand” is in fact the entry about weaving that Albers wrote for Encyclopedia Britannica: “One of the most ancient crafts, hand weaving is a method of forming a pliable plane of threads by interlacing them rectangularly. Invented in a pre-ceramic age, it has remained essentially unchanged to this day. Even the final machinery has not changed the basic principle of weaving.”
Weaving is one of the oldest surviving crafts in the world and goes back to Neolithic times, about 12,000 years ago. “Beginnings are usually more interesting than elaborations and endings. Beginning means explorations, selections, development, a potent vitality not yet limited, not circumscribed by the tried and traditional,” wrote Albers.
The artist used to take her students back in time to understand how it all began. The hides of animals are probably the closest prototype to fabrics. They are flat and versatile and can be used for many purposes. They can protect us from the weather and also shelter us as roofs and walls. Perhaps it all began when someone had the idea of adding a flexible twig to fasten the hides together. This manner of using both a stiff and a soft material was found in the 5,000-year-old mummy wrappings excavated in Paracas, Peru.
The wrappings extracted from the tombs were like “rushes tied together in the manner of twining… stiff materials were connected by means of a softer one to form a mat pliable in one direction, stiff in another,” wrote Albers.
These rushes are closer to basketry than fabrics. In fact baskets made using a similar technique were found in the same burial site. Twining is a method that appears to have evolved into weaving and this, according to Albers, might explain one of the origins of textile techniques.
Knotting, netting and looping resemble twining. Crocheting and knitting are said to have been invented by the Arabs. The oldest specimens have been located in Egyptian tombs from the seventh or eighth century.
Tapestry weaving is a form of weaving that dates back to the earliest beginnings of thread interlacing. One of the earliest pictorial works was found in a tomb located in northern Peru. Along with cave paintings, threads were the earliest transmitters of meaning, according to the book.
Albers developed “pictorial weaving” between the 1930s and 1960s. Her woven pictures are unique works of art in which colors, sounds, abstract forms and pictures are embedded in the fabric. Thanks to a unique and sophisticated technique combining history and innovation, an unbridled imagination and unrestrained energy, Albers weaved masterpieces. Her tapestries celebrate not only the wonder and dynamism of fiber, but also the beauty and mystery of life itself.
Book Review: Unraveling the history of weaving
Book Review: Unraveling the history of weaving
Book Review: ‘Keep the Memories, Lose the Stuff’
If you are someone who adopts a new year, new me mindset every Dec. 31, then Matt Paxton’s 2022 book “Keep the Memories, Lose the Stuff: Declutter, Downsize, and Move Forward with Your Life,” written with Jordan Michael Smith, is worth picking up.
In the process of reading it, I found myself filling four bags with items to donate.
Paxton’s approach is notably different from Marie Kondo’s once-ubiquitous Japanese tidying method, which asks readers to pile all their possessions into one part of the room, hold each item up and ask whether it sparks joy.
While Kondo’s philosophy sounds appealing on paper — thanking objects and dedicating an entire weekend to the process — it is not realistic for everyday life. Paxton’s method feels more practical and gentler.
Paxton knows the emotional terrain of clutter well. For more than 20 years he has helped people declutter and downsize. He was a featured cleaner on the reality show “Hoarders” and later hosted the Emmy-nominated “Legacy List with Matt Paxton” on PBS.
Through this work, Paxton gained insight into why people hold on to things and what makes letting go difficult even of what seemingly looks useless.
What works especially well is how personal the book feels from the outset.
He opens by explaining his anxiety-inducing decision to move to a different US state with his three children, and all of their stuff, to live with his new wife and all of her stuff.
Together, they would be raising seven children — very Brady Bunch style — but with slightly more practical life considerations.
He also talks about how he got into this line of work. When he was in his 20s, his father died and he had to help clear out his belongings. He found that process to be cathartic and special. And he was good at it.
Soon after, short on cash, he accepted a job from someone in his small, close-knit community to help organize her home — likely hired out of pity more than anything else.
That slow process of sifting through items and learning the stories behind each one — directly from the owner of those objects — sparked plenty of joy. He was hooked.
Throughout the book, Paxton makes the case for consistency. His advice is manageable. He encourages readers to dedicate just 10 minutes a day to decluttering to form a habit. We all can spare that.
Paxton also stresses the importance of communication.
Talk to your loved ones about what you want done with your belongings when you are no longer around, and just as importantly, listen to what they want done with theirs, he urges. He offers practical guidance on having these conversations with parents, partners and children.
One critique of this book is that Paxton dedicates a large portion to physical photographs. While this is relevant for many older readers, it may feel less urgent going forward, particularly for Gen Z and younger, whose clutter is more likely to be solely digital.
Ultimately, “Keep the Memories, Lose the Stuff” is less about getting rid of things than about making space; by speaking about objects, sharing their stories and allowing them — and each of us — to move on.
