When I started weaving there was one man in my weaving class, among 15 women. He was in his sixties and had learned to weave in Sweden many years ago. He wanted to refresh his knowledge and was looking forward to having more time to weave again.
As a young adult he had met a family in Sweden who had welcomed him into their home and over the years he became part of the family. During our weaving classes in Amsterdam he often told me about his Swedish ‘mother’. She had a loom and would handweave every bit of textile for the home; cushions, towels, table cloths, curtains everything. At Christmas the house would be in red and white, at Easter all textiles would be yellow and white! My friend had inherited her loom and in the garden of his home near Amsterdam he had built a beautiful ‘weaving shed’ to house this special loom that was so dear to him.
Then one summer my friend informed the weaving class that he would not be able to continue the weaving course as it had turned out that he was very ill and had not much longer to live. It was a tremendous shock. After a busy working life in which he had been so important to other people, he had been looking forward to spending more time with his wife and doing the things he loved, like weaving. But no, life can be so cruel and unfair sometimes.
A few weeks after his very sad message, he asked me if I would be willing to look after his loom once he would no longer be among us. I met him and his dear wife at their home. It was emotional and very special. He was relieved and so happy when I told him it would be an honour and a great pleasure for me to look after his special loom.
My friend past away and I now weave on his loom, that he inherited from his lovely Swedish ‘mother’. The loom has a special place in my studio and in my heart.
