Doug's choice

At the beginning of June, my sister and I traveled to Southern California for a workshop at the Idyllwild Arts Academy. Operating as a residential arts high school during the school year, the academy hosts a number of weeklong adult art workshops that span the course of three weeks. What sets this program apart is the range and number of Native American arts taught by accomplished Native artists. This year, workshops like “Ho-Chunk Porcupine Quill Work,” “Lakota Drum & Moccasin Work” and “Hopi Silver Inlay” filled the calendar alongside printmaking, ceramics and writing. With a scholarship provided by the academy, we were able to enroll in “Navajo Weaving,” led by two internationally acclaimed weavers, Barbara Teller Ornales and Lynda Teller Pete. Two siblings who learned how to weave in the Two Grey Hills area in New Mexico, they now travel the world to share the legacy of Spiderwoman in classes like the one we were about to take.

My sister and I split the 12-hour drive over the course of two days. On the way through the deserts of Arizona and California, the temperature rose to triple digits. It was only until we began to ascend the San Jacinto Mountains that we started to feel relief from the heat. As we neared Idyllwild, a coyote ran across the road from west to east. In Navajo tradition, Coyote is a trickster who crosses your path so you may heed a message, often warning you and asking you to reflect on future decisions. A few miles later, another darted from east to west. We proceeded carefully. Nestled between two large rock formations, Idyllwild is the ancestral home of the Cahuilla people and coincidentally reminded me of Durango. After a long drive, I found myself relishing in annoying my sister. I would loudly exclaim, “Look! It’s just like Durango!” to anything that looked remotely similar. In a way, it did feel like a homecoming. Not necessarily to the land, but to the knowledge and teachings we were about to receive.

Our first day began with an introduction from our teachers, first in Navajo then in English. We learned that they are fifth-generation weavers and how their grandchildren are starting on this path as well. With their years of experience at Idyllwild, our teachers knew that it can be difficult for new weavers to begin with the intricacies of warping a loom or setting its tension. Instead, our looms were pre-set, and we began to weave within the hour. By day’s end, we discovered how Navajo weaving combines math, engineering, design, meditation, music and storytelling. However, our professors remarked how the class was not solely one of those subjects, nor was it necessarily a weaving class. The real experience is one of cultural immersion. Through the teachings passed down by generations, we get to immerse ourselves in the knowledge of artists once known.

After weaving the base of my rug, I set out to make a design. While I have grown older and more sure about myself in many aspects, I have somehow lost a bit of my confidence when it comes to creative decision-making. I’ve come to realize that this is tied to a sense of losing out on time and energy if I make a mistake, or worse yet, don’t like it. If I don’t make a choice, I don’t risk losing something I never pursued.

What calmed this was a note from the professors: these rugs are our children. Our hands need to stay present and guide them as they grow. Overthinking can hinder their growth. If we are overbearing, we might pull their wefts too tight. If we are not paying attention, their designs might become messy or never fully realized. Our negative words and thoughts can easily be captured in their wefts, so we need to take care in how we speak about them.

These were the types of lessons that were shared over the course of the workshop. Some lessons were more intimate, personal or funny. Others induced goosebumps. Later that first evening, a design stepped forward. Taking its hand for the week, we grew together. On the final morning, a spider appeared in my bathroom. Like the coyotes on the first day, I took note of the possible message it carried.

I thought a lot about my grandmother while I was there. I thought about her time as a weaver, her designs and her ancestral knowledge. I thought about my time as a child, my life’s path thus far, and where it’s going. I thought about those who had left and those who have yet to come. This workshop provided me with a safe space to think about these things and feel like I could weave bits of the past, present and future into one. Gratitude cannot fully express how I feel, but it’s a feeling that is coming to the surface. I sense another: hope.

– Doug Gonzalez