Artisans, among many people in India, are experiencing extreme stress on their professions due to the prolonged lock down imposed to control the spread of COVID-19.  Many people are concerned that Indian craft and handmade face an existential crisis.  Baaya Design initiated a group of over 250 designers, members of NGOs and businesses all wanting to help artisans.  Suggestions have been made for making new products- with a focus in face masks, for marketing through online platforms and for initiating education in schools. The discussion has been overwhelming.  Yet, it is based in certain assumptions that once again bring up questions:  who are artisans?  and who are craft consumers?

And how do artisans perceive their situation?  Craft is their cultural heritage and they certainly have concerns about its future. They must be involved in the discussion, as equal partners.  On 14 May 2020, Baaya Design organized a webinar in which four artisan designers from Kutch- working traditional artisans who have taken a year-long design course, discussed their goals, the impact of lockdown on artisan communities, their challenges, needs and creative solutions.  Finally, they shared their visions of the future of hand craft and changes they would like to see.

Irfan Anwar Khatri, Mukhtar Jakariya Soneji, Prakash Naran Siju and Adil Mustak Khatri represent over 200 artisan designers who have graduated from a year-long program in design education.  Each artisan introduced himself and described his unique enterprise.

Irfanbhai, an Ajrakh artisan, makes saris, dupattas, stoles and fabric for a range of domestic and international clients.  Mukhtarbhai, a bandhani artisan and Design Faculty member of Somaiya Kala Vidya, makes saris, dupattas and abhas for the higher-level domestic market, selling through pop-up exhibitions and buyers.  Prakashbhai, a weaver from Bhujodi, is one of a few carpet makers.  His family worked for a Finnish buyer for over a decade before starting their own business.  Adilbhai, a bandhani artisan, makes accessories, selling primarily in better pop-up exhibitions.  This year he was juried into the International Folk Art Market, Santa Fe.

All four artisan designers clearly defined their goals as artisan designers.

“I want people to use hand work and buy directly from artisans,” Mukhtarbhai states.

“I want to have my own studio and be known by my name in the world of fashion,” Adilbhai says.

“My goal is to have people recognize carpets of Kutch,” Prakashbhai agrees.  “I want to have my own business and be known from my work.”

“We make products, and customers know the brands to whom we sell,” Irfanbhai echoes.  “We want to sell directly so that we and the customers can know each other, and we can gain recognition.”

The lock down imposed on 24 March 2020 has severely impacted artisans in Kutch.  “After the earthquake of 2001, Kutch was devastated,” Irfanbhai notes.  “Now it is the whole world.  Everyone’s income is stopped, while expenses are continuing.  Everyone has the same problem. Our production and sales are both blocked. Some of our orders, which would have been finished in 4 or 5 days have been cancelled.  Other customers want our stock, but we can’t send it because transport is shut down. The artisans who work for us are in a bad situation.  They are daily wage earners who live in nearby villages.  It is Ramzan and we want to distribute alms.  We made ration kits and distributed them.”

“The selling season for weavers is winter and was it was over,” Prakashbhai says.  “This is our time to get raw materials.   But we can’t go out or order due to the shutdown of transport.  Many of our weavers also work for Master Artisans.  So these people, also daily wage earners, are out of work.”

“Our bandhani artisans are women in various villages,” Mukhtarbhai shares.  “Now we can’t get to them. Our communication is broken and we can’t finish pending work.  Once the monsoon season begins, the women will go to work in their fields.”  In addition, Adilbhai worries that when the market opens he won’t have appropriate products.  The Folk Art Market for which he was preparing has been cancelled.  The products he has ready are for that market, not the domestic one.

Furthermore, he reveals, some customers are now trying to exploit them.  They approach artisans saying, ‘you need money now; sell your stock at a discount.’

Asked if their design education has been useful during these difficult times, Mukhtarbhai says, “One hundred percent!  During lock down we sit at home and make new designs.  We plan where to sell after lock down opens; we think about the market we want to target and do experiments.

Adilbhai adds that because of his education, he is efficient in using his time.  He can apply design to existing traditional techniques.

Prakashbhai shares that many designer weavers have limited raw materials, so they strategized and are producing masterpieces using more workmanship.  These will earn more value when lock down opens.

Ifranbhai demonstrates that education need not be aimed only to make money.  “We also used our waste fabrics to make masks,” he says.  “These are needed and too expensive for many people now.  So we gave them to people in neighboring villages for free.”

The needs that artisan designers express are not for handouts but for opening services and stimulating cash flow. All of them emphasize that the first need is to open transport.  “Buyers are ready to buy, but we can’t send them products,” Adilbhai says.  “We also need capital.  If we could get interest-free, long term loans we would not have extra burdens.  Craft takes time.”

“Everyone wants to be able to sell their stock,” Prakashbhai says.  If agencies like Gurjari can purchase from real artisans it would help.  And we need loans that are easy to access.  I tried to get a loan and it took 8 months.  Intermediaries asking commissions are also a problem.  We need fast, direct loans.”

Mukhtarbhai has a similar experience.  He has tried 8 times to access loans but has never succeeded.

“Once transport opens,” Irfanbhai says, “we can move stock, get income, restart our cycle.  We have artisans who need work.  Local factories have received permission to start.  If we can’t pay our artisans, they will go and work in the factories.”

“Online sales are the best option for now,” Adilbhai foresees. “People won’t want to go to crowded venues such as exhibitions.”

Irfanbhai agrees.  “Online sales are hard to manage at first, but once we learn it is a good platform for us because we can directly connect to customers and become known.”

Prakashbhai suggests a need for further education.  “Most online sales are on large famous sites,” he notes.  “Small artisans don’t get a good response to direct sales by Instagram and Facebook because they don’t have the ability to create good visuals.  If they can learn this type of marketing, they can get better value and a better response.  This way they can become known in the market.”

So, what future do they foresee, and what, as Artisan Designers, do they wish for the future of hand craft?

“We want our traditions to continue,” Irfanbhai says.  “We want to do good work, higher value, less quantity.  After lock down we know people will have trouble.  Three are three types of customer 1. Those who buy our products because they need them, 2. Those who don’t need our products but buy them because they want to support us, 3. Those who want to exploit us due to the situation.  In this situation, we need to make less work but good work.  And we need to take our time, not be in a hurry to sell.

Prakashbhai agrees. “We do not just make products. Our work has thought, a story, feelings, creativity. Customers need to feel, understand and appreciate hand work.”

“Hand craft needs more respect,” Adilbhai echoes.  “No one bargains with brands, only with artisans.  We also need the support of buyers.  They should make an effort to use handmade work for special occasions.”

Mukhtarbhai agrees. “The future for hand craft is good if people prefer hand made.  And I wish for people to buy directly from artisans.”

“People think craft is expensive,” Irfanbhai adds.  “It is not that expensive.   Others get the advantage.  If you buy directly from artisans, craft won’t be expensive.”

When the webinar opens for questions, the need for mutual understanding is clear.  The audience speaks in terms of “helping” and “encouraging” and the need for artisans to “cooperate.”  This language is rarely used for others out of work: construction crews, shopkeepers, office workers or airlines personnel.

One person wants to know how to get craft into the fast fashion market.

“Buyers need to be interested in learning about craft,” Adilbhai states.  “Until they understand it can’t go forward.  We make an effort to show customers how bandhani is done, what is real.”

“We work in natural dyes and there are variations in colours,” Irfanbhai explains.  “Not big differences, but variations.  We can work to customer requirements.  But it is expensive to make new blocks for new designs, to develop colours, and we need to have those expenses covered.  The meaning of Ajrakh is ‘Leave it for Today.’  It is a long process, at least 14 days, the slower the better, the more beautiful.  If we try to do it fast it won’t be good.”

“And please remember that we are Artisan Designers,” Adilbhai adds. “We can do our own designs.  It’s better if instead you promote our own designs.”

There is some discussion on how to introduce craft to schools, so that children can learn to appreciate hand work.

Mukhtarbhai, himself a teacher, advocates collaboration.  “People have to know our traditions first,” he says.  “And from the urban population we want to know about the future.  We need to share our strengths.”

One of the last questions is how, as Artisan Designers, the panelists have taken their traditions and their individual identities forward?

“Just like any designer, we look at trends and make new designs each year,” Adilbhai answers.

“And we target specific markets in addition to studying forecasts,” Mukhtarbhai adds.

“We used to have to think how to make new designs,” Prakashbhai says.  After education our vison has changed.  We know how to use traditional techniques in new ways.  We make new products.  For example, my brother took the course and in class got ideas to make containers, floor cushions– without using machines to finish them.  We aren’t afraid to experiment.  Now we are even using new techniques- such as pile weaving.   We aren’t afraid and we know how to not leave our traditions- to retain them.”

“We used to do what designers gave us,” Irfanbhai relates. “It was difficult and not respectful of our traditions.  Now we make new designs that take tradition forward and keep our identity.  We don’t want to lose our identity.  It should be both Ajrakh and new.”

The final discussion focuses on the expected market after lock down is over.  The questioner suggests that artisan designers not offer discounts because it will set a precedent.  “Don’t let anyone take advantage of you,” he says.  But he questions the strategy to make higher end products.  People will not have the means to buy, so you should make cheaper things that people can afford, he advises.

“I don’t agree,” Adilbhai firmly answers.  “I don’t think lock down will affect better buyers much.  So we should make higher end products.”

In 2010, the Crafts Council of England did a study of craft consumers.  What they found is that Craft consumers tend to be women, educated, older, culturally active, open and independent thinking

More important, the study correlates craft buying choices to consumer trends influenced by the current market environment. It shows that craft consumption is clearly not essential; yet it is a market that was relatively unaffected by the market recession. Consumers value craft in terms of authenticity, quality, workmanship, and wide personal appeal. Consumer demand has shifted towards value-centered products which meet emotional as well as functional needs. People buy craft as a more personal, genuine, unique and ethical route for consuming objects.

There is an assumption of desperation among artisans.  While some artisans may indeed be in dire straits, all are not.  And if desperation is the premise on which we base our actions, it is an opening for exploitation and will in the long run be harmful to artisans.

“We need not be in a hurry,” Irfanbhai said.  “We can avoid the third type of customer, the one who wants to exploit us.”

“How can artisan designers sell directly to us?” one young woman asked.

Can we use this unprecedented time to take time, to look back and reinvent aspects of the traditional craft “Marketplace” in appropriate contemporary terms?  Can we think of not being in a hurry, of customers and artisans sharing the same criteria for evaluation?  Can we think of exchange with a strong social element, where it is not purely economic, and Artisan Designers and customers know each other as people?

Artisan Designers have Facebook and Instagram accounts.  They want to connect directly.

Mary Jaeger, an artisan designer from New York writes of her experience of life in the time of COVID-19, “The luxury of time and togetherness with my family is part of our newly evolving normal.

I wanted my one-of-a-kind accessories and garments to resonate a changing consciousness for a more simple and responsible use of materials honoring handmade work.

I chose seven words of hope to embellish my clothing to communicate a deeper need for humanity: LOVE, JOY, PEACE, HAPPINESS, COURAGE, COMPASSION, EMPATHY.”

Together we can work to maintain and increase the value of hand craft.

When I hear about helping artisans, reviving craft, and intervention, questions that come to mind are who is defining the “problem?” For what reason do interventionists want to work with craft, and for what goal?  If the answer is ‘because I like it,’ that is not enough. Because craft is made by artisans, and the quality of their lives will determine the sustainability of craft traditions.

My real question is, have you asked artisans what they want?  And then we get to the question of HOW to ask (If you ask, ‘you want more money, right?’  You will get the answer you expect). And then we get to the dilemma of education: you don’t know what you don’t know.

Some time ago, I heard that someone assessing our design education program wrote,  “If income after completion of the course is assumed to be a key measure of the impact of the course’s effectiveness (without considering aspects like confidence level, opportunity for young of the families to re-connect with craft etc.)…”

So here, I must intervene.

Assumption is usually risky.  Would the National Institute of Design or the Rhode Island School of Design- or any educational program measure impact primarily by increased income of its graduates?  Just asking.

Our institute’s stated goals, at least, are not in fact primarily quantitative.  So our task then is to develop a meaningful means of assessing the success of education for artisans, in terms of our stated goals and, more important, in terms of goals for artisans and craft traditions defined by artisans who have graduated from the program.

In February 2018, we held a meeting of weaver design graduates to initiate this inquiry.  I began by asking who felt they were successful.  Almost everyone quickly raised his hand.

So, I asked, what is success?  And what do you think contributes to success?

“Success is achieving goals; you need a goal.  You need to know your capacity, what is good for you,” said Dayabhai.

“Success is decision making power,” Purshottambhai agreed. “You have to be clear and capable of decision making- and targeting your market,” he said.

“Success is using your creativity,” Prakashbbhai said.

“We now confidently know good design,” Rajeshbbhai added.

Dayabhai elaborated on this. “We now have our own concepts and identity,” he explained.  “We know how to take feedback.”

To this Pachanbhai added, “Everyone’s work is unique.  Besides knowing your USP, you have to be able to articulate it.  Success is having a voice.”

Puroshottambhai echoed, “And success is being able to take responsibility.”

Strikingly, not one artisan spoke of success in terms of money.

“My early goal was money,” Dayabhai explained.  “My goal was to educate my children.  Now, it is to be my own person.  My son told me not to weave. Now people come from all over the world to my house, so I have value.  It’s not about just money.”

Namoribhai shared his experience.  “You need design and business to get full value.  New design at home has no value. You need to know when and where to sell. And business without design is no use.  If you have both design and business you can answer the question: ‘Why is it expensive?’”

I asked if their goals had changed because of design and business education?

Prakashbhai laughed.  “Before the course, we had no goals!” he said.

“At least I was interested in weaving.  If a weaver is not interested in weaving, how could you interest him?”

“Previously there were no choices,” Dayabhai concluded. “Now, weavers who continue their tradition do it by choice. “What we can do is share our experience with the next generation.  Now we can think of the benefit to our community.”

I asked them to define key problems in craft.

Dayabhai related participating in a meeting in Varanasi to launch the Indian government USTTAD (Upgrading the Skills and Training in Traditional Arts/ Crafts for Development) program.  Weavers there said that 70% of the fault of falling markets for craft is customers asking for cheaper goods- and artisans complying.  Short cuts and undercuts lead to the death of traditions, he said.

Namoribhai recounted that previously in trade fairs the sale of acrylic shawls was measured in tons.  Nine tons of shawls used to sell, he said.  And then the shawls were copied in power loom, and sales plummeted.  So weavers were forced to make new products.

Next, I asked why they had decided to take the course?

Pavanbhai related that everyone seemed to be making the same thing, and sales were average.  He didn’t get a job after doing a BA., and his father encouraged him to take up their traditional profession.

Prakashbhai shared that job work has limited scope in terms of money and creativity. Risks are necessary, he said. But when you don’t know the market, you are afraid.  You have to face your own struggle.

Shantilalbhai said the he was interested by graduates’ success.

Niteshbhai narrated that he wanted to be known.  I was not educated, he said, and here was an opportunity for me to get ahead (because formal education is not required).

I asked about their experience of design education.

“We didn’t know how much our lives would change,” Puroshottambhai said.  “We learned the value of our work, learned to think of the market.  We got courage.  Now we are independent.” 

“Now we can do our own business,” Dilipbhbai agreed.Ravjibhai shared that when he saw new materials it changed his work.  He hadn’t seen anything but acrylic before.  And after the course, he began to do his own work.

Ramjibhai had also just worked in acrylic.  “The course was a turning point for me,” he said, “to become independent. We got a platform from the design course, and the Business and Management for Artisans (BMA) course taught us planning.”

Murjibhai agreed that the course gave him opportunities.

Pachanbbhai appreciated learning how to use inspiration- especially from traditional work.  Prakashbhai appreciated practical learning.  Dayabhai thought field trips were important, and felt he had learned a lot by participating in the Bhudodi to Bagalkot outreach program because it required application of learning in a real experience.

Prakashbhai felt that the value of the course was in teaching them to innovate within traditions. “Designers try to take us beyond tradition,” he said.  “We refuse.  We can change materials but not lose our identity.” He also felt that if you do simple work you will be copied and then will be priced out of the market.

Purshottambhai added, “We are artisans.  We don’t weave yardage production.”

And about business and management education?

Dayabhai said that he realized that the key mistake artisans make is risk aversion.  Artisans need to make investments.  But taking risks is less risky when you have experience.  He learned to think of the customer’s view, to understand clients’ needs.  And he learned the importance of brand.  Finally, he felt the class learned to take responsibility when they planned and produced their own exhibition.

Puroshottambhai said his key takeaway was that if you don’t value your work, neither will your customers.

What else would they like in the course?

Namoribhai felt that artisans need to learn to bridge the communication gap, which leads to slow response.

Niteshbhai pinpointed the eternal problem of costing and pricing.  He would like to establish or correct wholesale/retail margins.

And finally, what would they like in their future?

Value for their products, everyone agreed, and good for the maximum number of people. 

Purshottambhai hoped that artisans would share information with each other rather than compete.  And he would like to encourage the less established artisans to take the course and get experience.

Those who had participated in Outreach programs felt that the artisan-to-artisan approach was most effective.  

“First we have to understand our own tradition’s value,” Puroshottambhai concluded.  “It is our responsibility to preserve our tradition.  It was given to us and we have to value it.”

Some time ago I wrote a blog post about my concern over where craft was going. My concern arises from the low status given to those who work with their hands.  Craft seems to be perceived as an antiquated, inferior form of manufacturing that could only survive if “helped,” and artisans are perceived as skilled laborers.

Traditional craft in India was not made in in large scale factories or production lines. In Kutch, an individual or family conceived the object to be made, produced or procured the raw materials needed, and created it; it was holistic creation. The artisan knew the user, and delivered his work to him directly. Each artisan family had its own clientele, and there were often hereditary, personal relationships between makers and users. As I have understood it, traditionally craft was made in a community-based horizontal social structure, in which artisans all held more or less equal economic and social status.

Craft was traditionally exchanged in a barter system. Weavers, printers and dyers gave fabrics to herders and farmers, and in turn received milk, goats and grain. When asked how they insured that goods exchanged were equal in value, Irfanbhai said simply, “We didn’t.” People received what they needed when they needed it. The shift in conception between this traditional valuation system and the commercial market is enormous.

My concern is that when craft is pushed into the world of not only cash economy but also industrialized scaled-up production, the structure of artisan societies changes from horizontal to vertical. Economically stronger individuals become “Master Artisans,” employ previously equal status artisans as workers, and gain higher social as well as economic status.

Not only that; they stop making.

Many of the artisan students at Somaiya Kala Vidya have been job workers for bigger players in the craft world, and want to learn design as a way to begin to become independent.  As they grow, they will no longer be able to fulfill their own orders.  So who will work for them?

I sincerely hope- I wrote- that our design and business education programs are not simply producing more “Master Artisans.”  As businesses grow, artisan designers seem to get farther from being artisans.

I offered a suggestion for an alternative.

But I am not an artisan.  My friend Albert, who has worked many years in the craft world, says, “The artisans have all the answers.”  And after all, it is their life.

So we gathered together a group of design graduates, and a facilitator, a dramatist Sanjaybhai to explore….

After I introduce the issue, there is the usual silence.

Finally, Juned I says, “Actually there is not such a big problem as you imagine.”

Khalidbhai gives his view.  “Actually, there is an easy solution,” he says.  “We have to teach people.  We teach them, and they grow.  When they want to have their own business, we teach new people.  There are so many people in nearby villages who want work.”

Sanjaybhai asks, do you do this out of necessity?  Or do it as a policy?

Slowly, more comes out. There are two situations:  one where a worker wants to set up his own workshop, and one where he moves to another workshop.  Juned H. says that it’s only the Khatris- traditional dyers- who want to start their own businesses.  For one thing, they don’t teach the other workers everything.

For other workers, the group agrees, it’s good to keep them with you.  But there are employers with less than ethical practice.  Suppose Junedbhai has a well-trained worker, Khalidbhai says.  I can offer him more money and he will come to me. That IS a problem.

What happens then?

Nothing, they say.  It happens.  Workers have to fill their stomachs, after all.  And some come back.  It’s a floating population.

But what does that do to relationships?  I ask.

Juned H says, “Look, this is the law of nature.  It’s like a food chain.”

Sanjaybhai says this is the situation with domestic workers too.  So many people have offered his maid more money.  But she has stayed with him for many years.  Why?  He supports her in other ways, educating her children, offering medical assistance, loans when she needs them, etc.

They all respond to this.  Yes, of course, it is important to treat workers well.  Family-like relations with your workers brings loyalty. They all have some good examples.

After more discussion they conclude that there are people who will always be lured by money.  And there are people who will always try to lure them.  That is the way of the world.

I say familial relations was more like the traditional model, wasn’t it?

Traditionally we taught by the stick, they say– for family members as well as workers.  If you did not work well, you got hit.

Mukhtarbhai, a bandhani artisan, agrees.  With bandhani, if you were using the wrong posture, you used to get smacked. It was for their own good, so that in the future they would not suffer.  All of the group chimes in with their examples- even Sanjaybhai!  Most of them were taught this way only.  And they feel it is good.  Tough love. That’s family.

I ask what about satisfaction- other than money?  While working, don’t people think, what if I make my own design, start my own work?  Mustakbhai, for example, used to be a job worker.  What made him want to study design?

Mustakbhai agrees.  People want something more.

But then they all agree that once you are set you don’t have to do your own work.

I ask how many of the group are doing their own work now?

Prakashbhai, Mukhtarbhai, Mustakhai, Juned H.  Not Khalidvhai, not Juned I., not Mubeenbhai. Just over 50%.

I’m surprised.  Don’t you want to do your own work, sometimes? I ask. This was my objective of the design program for artisans.

The master artisan must know his craft, Khalidbhai insists.  Otherwise he won’t get good work.  But you can’t stay in one place; you have to move around, keep your eye on everything.  Juned H. relates that in a workshop in his village he saw bad work being done.  He asked the workers why they were doing bad work?  The owner doesn’t know the difference, was their answer.

You have to learn your craft well, and you have to do sampling at least, they say. We do our own dyeing, they affirm. Mukhtarbhai describes the situation in bandhani.  The women are independent contractors. They give work to the women tiers, but they always do their own dyeing. They consider dyeing the real art.

Maintaining respect for their traditions is very important, they all agree.

Prakashbhai has a different view; weaving is different, he asserts.  We do it ourselves.  We don’t train other workers because it is our tradition.  It is technically more difficult, as well.  So we work within our limits.  We don’t have bigger production.  “I had a client who said she would bring workers from UP for me so that I could do bigger volume,” he recalls.  “I refused.  We don’t want that kind of factory set up.  Ours is a family craft.  All members of the family are involved.  If we outsource it won’t be craft.  At least we keep the work in the community.”

All of these people have known only commercial craft.  I too came on the scene after commercialization. I’m starting to wonder…  Did craft always, even from traditional times, have workers?  And will it always?  But was there always hierarchy?

Mubeenbhai, Mr. Practical, wants to know when they are going to get started on the play?  What is next?

Sanjaybhai says he works backwards.  “At the end of the performance,” he asks,  “what would you like the audience (mostly artisans) to think about?”

They should see teaching as part of their work, they say; they should see craft as a cycle.  They should behave ethically and maintain respect for their craft traditions.

This is a play within a play, because it is about the artisans themselves.

At the end of our workshop, I hope the artisans who attended are all thinking about the future of their craft. Because they ultimately will create the solutions, and their future.

In April, Somaiya Kala Vidya began an Outreach project with Avani Kumaon. Avani, a nearly self-sufficient voluntary organization, is situated deep in the Kumaon Hills. The nearest village is Tripura Devi. A 7-hour arduously winding road journey is inevitable, whether you take the train to Kathgodham or the flight to Pantnagar.

The region, 150 km from the Nepal border, is cool and scenic, with forests and views of the Himalayas. But its isolation makes it difficult to earn a livelihood. Typical villages are small. Hamlets have 30-50 families. Revenue villages have up to 200 families. Traditionally, small plots of subsistence farming were enough for families. But as families grew, the land was further divided. Availability of facilities such as phones, cars and computers has increased people’s demand for a cash economy. So nearly all of the young men of Kumaon migrate to cities to earn for their families. Those who remain in the hills work in tourism or small businesses. The villages are managed by women, who do the farm work, housework and child rearing. Despite heavy demands on their time, they would also like to earn money.

Rashmi and Rajnish, the founders of Avani, are from Delhi. They decided to work in Kumaon, to make a contribution to help stabilize the communities. They work on environmental/ ecological issues, community management, and income generation. They promote solar energy, and Rajnish has invented a pine needle gassifier, to generate energy and lessen the danger of forest fires caused by combustion of the pine needles. Rashmi began a craft project that is now largely EarthCraft, a producer company.

EarthCraft’s weaving is primarily an income generation project. The local weaving traditions are very basic and not valued. Avani did initially try to work with two traditions, a semi felted blanket, Thulma, and a looped and cut pile rug, Chutka– with little success. Procuring good quality local materials is also a challenge.

So Avani bypassed the craft market, and turned to the design market. EarthCraft weaves stoles, shawls and fabrics in local and Merino wool, wild silks and now some linen and cotton, with a focus on natural dyes. They try to procure locally. They have encouraged 250 local farmers to grow indigo, and are trying to grow a linen that will survive in the hills. They have invested in professional equipment for processing natural dyes, which they sell. Rashmi feels that the potential for natural dyes is good. So Avani has focused on producing good quality, easy to use dyestuffs.

Avani and EarthCraft’s work is professional, despite contending with great distances that must be covered by foot. The organization has collected an impressive number of awards. Despite its daunting isolation, Avani regularly attracts interns from Indian design and management schools and from institutes all over the world.

However, even with their focus on self-sufficiency, Avani routinely engages design students, rather than artisans, to develop new fabrics and products.

One major challenge that EarthCraft faces is the constant attrition of weavers. Rashmi attributes this to the winds of change. With exposure, she says, aspirations change. When artisans get access to information, they leave craft. She sees this as part of the skill upgradation process. Construction workers become weavers, and weavers become supervisors or office employees. “Where skill has been upgraded it has value,” she says. There is also attrition when young women marry and move away or become busy with new households.

We felt that Avani and EarthCraft have not recognized the potential of artisans doing more than skilled work, or that recognition and satisfaction in weaving might make it more valuable, curbing attrition of weavers.

Because of the shared philosophy of self-sufficiency and sustainability, and strong existing infrastructure, and because our program addresses the issue of attrition of artisans, we thought Avani would be a good partner in a program of design education for artisans, despite a weak cultural heritage connection.

Avani agreed.

From 7 to 19 April, 2018 our team of Pachanbhai and Rajeshbhai, weaver designers who have graduated from the Somiaya Kala Vidya program, and Lokeshbhai, senior Visiting Faculty, conducted the first workshop for our project, on the Avani campus.

“They have a different style of weaving than we do,” Pachanbhai observed. The patterning they weave comes from drafting. He and Rajeshbhai were also intrigued that the weavers seemed to have forgotten how to join new warps.

The first thing they did was find out about tradition. The team went with their Avani weaver partners to villages and asked questions. Pachanbhai liked this part a lot. He enjoyed talking to the women elders- especially since the weaver partners did not speak. Once the ice was broken, they learned that the women had previously had bad experiences with teachers from outside. The teachers yelled at us, they said. So when they heard the SKV team was coming, they were afraid.

“We had to find out their history,” Rajeshbhai related. They learned that the Bora community had 4 subgroups, and they actually did use to weave. They made 3 or 4 utilitarian products- carriers, rugs- things not valued. They used hemp for the warp and shreds of waste fabric for the weft. At that time, they wove on a back strap loom.

Armed with some background on the region and weaving traditions, the weaver designers began. “We had to teach,” Pachanbhai said. This was their first experience. “At first it was hard teaching principles of design,” he said. “We had to really get a grasp on what we knew.   But they women understood, because we taught in their language- not just Hindi, but the language of craft.”

It was an experience of teaching Kumaon women to be creative. And that was about building confidence. One woman said she had been affected by black magic and could not work, Pachanbhai recalled. He had to convince her that the best remedy was to just work anyway – and she overcame her block.

“They thought their natural dye colours were limited and people don’t like them,” Rajeshbhai said. So he wove them a sample with his ideas about how colours could be combined. This inspired the women to try some ideas of their own. And then the workshop gained momentum.

The women had expected to be told what to do. But they had to test their own ideas. Pachanbhai and Rajeshbhai had them make layouts, then try to weave them. They realized problems, revised layouts, and wove again.

The weaver designers recognized the biggest challenge right away.

The women weave as a job. Where is the incentive?

We don’t think, the women said. And why should we make so much effort? They indicated that they would only be interested if they got more money.

“When they come to Delhi, they will know,” Pachanbhai said. “I used to want only easy work. Now that I am independent, I like challenging designs.”

Rajeshbhai and Pachanbhai felt that if the women can be promoted as designers, if they are given a platform, they will be motivated. And Avani will benefit because their weavers will be able to work better with designers, and the quality will improve so that there will be fewer seconds.

Pachanbhai related how one of his team members cried because she felt she didn’t know anything. She felt she couldn’t do anything because she only did plain weave.

Pachanbhai walked her to the Avani shop. “What do you see here?” he asked.

Plain weave, for the high end market.

“So is it not a design?”

She said she wasn’t educated, she couldn’t read or write.

Pachanbhai said that came up again and again. The women had been convinced of their insurmountable limitations. With a huge grin, he laughed. “I cant read either!” he said. “So it’s no excuse.”

What a beautiful model.

At the end of the workshop, the SKV and Avani weaver teams presented to the Avani staff. The resoundingly positive response of not only the weavers involved but also the entire staff was very encouraging. Everyone was very happy to see that the women could use their own ideas. They voted on the samples- the first real feedback. On viewing the work, Rashmi immediately realized that each artisan has a unique take on the same traditional references.

Now the weavers will carry their samples to Delhi for a jury with professionals in weaving and design, and then with refinement they will put them into production for an Outreach exhibition planned for Chennai in September.

In the term coined by Bunker Roy, this is “barefoot” education. Artisans are teaching artisans, without either necessarily being able to read or write.   Nonetheless, it is real education. The Artisan Design graduates have imbibed a philosophy of education as well as facts and tricks. And they can share it. They question, they research. They understand the process of design. In teaching, they realize new capacities, and the deep satisfaction of releasing creative potential.

This education is owned, and it grows. On return, within just three weeks, Pachanbhai designed and wove two exquisite saris inspired by his experience.

Look for more from all of these creative weavers in Chennai in September!