Marjorie Fiddler

I taught myself to weave over thirty years ago during summer break from a high school counseling job. No one told me to start small, so that first summer I wove curtains and a complicated overshot coverlet. My next project was a rug I still use in my studio. Soon, however, I had to satisfy my textile addiction with forms of creativity that required less floor space.

Back at the loom again, my immediate activity is one of repeating actions I have done thousands of times before. The precision and mechanics of this craft are crucial parts of the process and require attention. But there is plenty of attention left to focus on pattern and color, evaluating this inch of weave and the inches before and to follow. What are my choices, my limits? What degree of symmetry or asymmetry will be pleasing? When do I want one portion of a rug to mirror another?

The design evolves as I work. I had a direction in mind, which now changes and grows. I’m excited, I’m happy, I’m absorbed. These last six years, since I’ve returned to weaving, I can’t imagine doing anything else.