Wall of Tears
Wall of Tears is now complete. Click here to watch a video of the cutting off celebration.
Wall of Tears cartoon
Wall of Tears is a collaborative tapestry weaving project. It was born out of two reasons. The first is our attempt to bear witness to the current global, systematic suppression of human rights. The act of weaving a tapestry embodies the quality of positive construction - a miniscule statement against the tragic developments of widespread destruction and oppression so many people are suffering.
The second, and very dear reason for this project, is to gather with friends and colleagues in the simple and beautiful act of sharing a loom. At this (late) time in our lives, it offers a cause to reunite. We are grateful to Maria Luisa and Jacobo Mendoza, weavers from Teotitlan del Valle, Oaxaca. It was their original intention to come to our studio and weave together that inspired us to create this particular project.
The tapestry will eventually be donated to an appropriate organization.
Concept and Design
In what way can tapestry bear witness to the human tragedy of oppression and divisiveness? A thought came to my mind, encapsulated in the analogy of pattern. Pattern in tapestry: “any regularly repeated arrangement, especially a design made from repeated lines, shapes, or colors on a surface” (Cambridge). Pattern in the social context: patterns evident in the tools of repression, for example, the use of fences, walls, barbed wire – which are made in over one hundred designs - and other similar inventions used to control people.
Discussing the idea with Yael, under the working title - Patterns of Oppression - I collected images from newspapers, books, the Internet and personal photographs of the Cave of Hands in Patagonia. I sketched several compositions, heavy in narrative and visually poor. From these preliminary sketches Yael rescued elements with pattern-like qualities. First the barbed wire. Then the wall, the water section, and the hands (outlines of our family’s hands). Each evening we compared our findings, and found that a narrative had started to develop.
Yael focused on one pattern at a time. Each of these patterns became a band across the composition. In the section belonging to the wall we entangled clothing, a partially submerged fabric with diamonds, a universal decoration found in hand-woven textiles. The composition is oriented horizontally, like successive lines of text on a page, or bands of pattern common to indigenous textiles. These lines do not have an actual beginning nor an end; what is represented is immeasurable. Oppression and discrimination are global. The plight of the people suffering this inhuman condition face barbaric walls, dangerous oceans, rivers. Cruelty and indifference.
This process of designing, discussing and refining took over two months. It included woven samples and experimentation with scale and color. Once we identified the height of the first three bands (water, wall, and hands with barbed wire), Yael composed the top section, where bird/hands move across a starry sky.
The final size of the Wall of Tears, based in the golden rectangle format, was adapted to the width of our loom in El Tuito, 80” x 50”. The original full-size cartoon - a black and white drawing - was photographed and reduced to several 16" x 10" inches prints. We experimented with different color palettes, reversing the image for the final enlargement.
The second, and very dear reason for this project, is to gather with friends and colleagues in the simple and beautiful act of sharing a loom. At this (late) time in our lives, it offers a cause to reunite. We are grateful to Maria Luisa and Jacobo Mendoza, weavers from Teotitlan del Valle, Oaxaca. It was their original intention to come to our studio and weave together that inspired us to create this particular project.
The tapestry will eventually be donated to an appropriate organization.
Concept and Design
In what way can tapestry bear witness to the human tragedy of oppression and divisiveness? A thought came to my mind, encapsulated in the analogy of pattern. Pattern in tapestry: “any regularly repeated arrangement, especially a design made from repeated lines, shapes, or colors on a surface” (Cambridge). Pattern in the social context: patterns evident in the tools of repression, for example, the use of fences, walls, barbed wire – which are made in over one hundred designs - and other similar inventions used to control people.
Discussing the idea with Yael, under the working title - Patterns of Oppression - I collected images from newspapers, books, the Internet and personal photographs of the Cave of Hands in Patagonia. I sketched several compositions, heavy in narrative and visually poor. From these preliminary sketches Yael rescued elements with pattern-like qualities. First the barbed wire. Then the wall, the water section, and the hands (outlines of our family’s hands). Each evening we compared our findings, and found that a narrative had started to develop.
Yael focused on one pattern at a time. Each of these patterns became a band across the composition. In the section belonging to the wall we entangled clothing, a partially submerged fabric with diamonds, a universal decoration found in hand-woven textiles. The composition is oriented horizontally, like successive lines of text on a page, or bands of pattern common to indigenous textiles. These lines do not have an actual beginning nor an end; what is represented is immeasurable. Oppression and discrimination are global. The plight of the people suffering this inhuman condition face barbaric walls, dangerous oceans, rivers. Cruelty and indifference.
This process of designing, discussing and refining took over two months. It included woven samples and experimentation with scale and color. Once we identified the height of the first three bands (water, wall, and hands with barbed wire), Yael composed the top section, where bird/hands move across a starry sky.
The final size of the Wall of Tears, based in the golden rectangle format, was adapted to the width of our loom in El Tuito, 80” x 50”. The original full-size cartoon - a black and white drawing - was photographed and reduced to several 16" x 10" inches prints. We experimented with different color palettes, reversing the image for the final enlargement.
Three details from the Wall of Tears maquette
Project Details
The tapestry will be woven from an outlined cartoon measuring 84" x 52." The design will be woven side to side from the back on an Aubusson style low warp loom. The warp is set at 12 ends per inch. The weft is mostly wool, with DMC cotton and silk used in certain areas. Two weavers will work side by side on the tapestry. Jean Pierre Larochette will be joined by seven weavers who will rotate in to spend two weeks in El Tuito, Mexico working on the project.
The Weavers
Sally Williamson
Maria Luisa and Jacobo Mendoza
Mary Lane
Betty Hilton-Nash
Yadin Larochette
Susan Martin Maffei
Read reflections by the participating weavers.
The tapestry will be woven from an outlined cartoon measuring 84" x 52." The design will be woven side to side from the back on an Aubusson style low warp loom. The warp is set at 12 ends per inch. The weft is mostly wool, with DMC cotton and silk used in certain areas. Two weavers will work side by side on the tapestry. Jean Pierre Larochette will be joined by seven weavers who will rotate in to spend two weeks in El Tuito, Mexico working on the project.
The Weavers
Sally Williamson
Maria Luisa and Jacobo Mendoza
Mary Lane
Betty Hilton-Nash
Yadin Larochette
Susan Martin Maffei
Read reflections by the participating weavers.
The Process
Winding the warp in sections (left), Warping the loom (middle), Jean Pierre Larochette, and Maria Luisa and Jacobo Mendoza weaving the tapestry (right).
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Jean Pierre Larochette weaving on the low warp loom.
Wall of Tears, finished tapestry
Reflections on the finished tapestry
Jean Pierre Larochette
During the approximately six months since the beginning of this project, we have witnessed an avalanche of attacks on human rights, on the very basic principles of existence. Some cultures have suffered this condition for hundreds of years. Here in the Americas the gods and powers of Europe descended over the native ancestors with devastating fury. What stood in stone was ruined, in fiber burned, in metals stolen. The wisdom of native hands turned into slave labor.
With the same destructive thirst, in modern terms and infinite cruelty, our lives are being stripped clean of meaning. Artificial concepts and falsehoods are elevated, platitudes enthroned. Are we to become soulless extensions of the machine? Haptic dreams are forced out of memory, creative hand work disdained or marginalized, traditions replaced by empty canons.
Our textiles, said Martha Orosco, an Aymara weaver from the highlands of Bolivia, are our books, the books colonization couldn’t destroy. In this analogy of text and textiles, our tapestries are also our books. Imagine the moment this tapestry is unrolled from the loom (the work of seven weavers in the period of over three months) and seen for the first time, at a glance, all the pages simultaneously open. Hundreds of pages, thousands of words written laboriously, months of continuous work revealed in one glimpse, the moment of its release. Even if we make an effort to visualize the writing process, to acknowledge the step-by-step actions of its making, with its creative struggles, pitfalls and achievements, the only way to grasp the meaning of the book is by taking time and reading it, allowing its message to reach our consciousness with solidarity - word by word, sentence after sentence, each one and all pages, as it was written. Or, in textile terms, as it was woven.
Jean Pierre Larochette
During the approximately six months since the beginning of this project, we have witnessed an avalanche of attacks on human rights, on the very basic principles of existence. Some cultures have suffered this condition for hundreds of years. Here in the Americas the gods and powers of Europe descended over the native ancestors with devastating fury. What stood in stone was ruined, in fiber burned, in metals stolen. The wisdom of native hands turned into slave labor.
With the same destructive thirst, in modern terms and infinite cruelty, our lives are being stripped clean of meaning. Artificial concepts and falsehoods are elevated, platitudes enthroned. Are we to become soulless extensions of the machine? Haptic dreams are forced out of memory, creative hand work disdained or marginalized, traditions replaced by empty canons.
Our textiles, said Martha Orosco, an Aymara weaver from the highlands of Bolivia, are our books, the books colonization couldn’t destroy. In this analogy of text and textiles, our tapestries are also our books. Imagine the moment this tapestry is unrolled from the loom (the work of seven weavers in the period of over three months) and seen for the first time, at a glance, all the pages simultaneously open. Hundreds of pages, thousands of words written laboriously, months of continuous work revealed in one glimpse, the moment of its release. Even if we make an effort to visualize the writing process, to acknowledge the step-by-step actions of its making, with its creative struggles, pitfalls and achievements, the only way to grasp the meaning of the book is by taking time and reading it, allowing its message to reach our consciousness with solidarity - word by word, sentence after sentence, each one and all pages, as it was written. Or, in textile terms, as it was woven.
All website content pertaining to Wall of Tears was compiled, edited and posted by Mary Lane.