The Weaver’s Struggles

The Weaver’s Struggles

A brief look at how an artisan experiences the world of non-artisans W

hen people ask me what I do for a living and I reply that I run a hand weaving workshop, the reaction is almost always the same:

“Oh wow, that sounds sooo nice!!!”

Usually followed by a smile — sometimes even a dreamy look.

But then I notice a certain vacant expression in their eyes, the kind that tells me they have no idea what I’m actually talking about.

So, I feel the need to explain.

Not to point out anyone’s ignorance — we all ignore something — but simply to clarify that yes, my job is a little “unusual,” and that it happens to be one of the oldest crafts in the world.

At that point, sometimes curiosity kicks in:

I get asked questions, and I’m happy to answer.

Other times, the topic changes entirely — as if I’d just told them I collect bottle caps.

Honestly, if I were an electrician, I’d probably get more interest…

But the real challenge, for me and for many other artisans, is helping people understand why what we do has value.

Why a handmade piece costs more than something “similar” you can find in any store.

A handcrafted item is virtually unique.

It involves design time, long hours of making, high-quality materials, and, quite often, multiple failed attempts before the successful result.

If there were a flashy brand name stamped on it, no one would question the price.

I know this well — I’ve worked in that world too.

And believe me, many people on an average salary will gladly spend €60 on a viscose scarf… as long as it’s branded.

I’m not here to bash big brands — I like them too — but it really disheartens me when people fail to notice the difference.

Just a few days ago, for example, a passerby glanced at an item I had on display outside my workshop and blurted out — loudly, as if I didn’t have ears:

“What?! That much for a piece of cloth? Are you kidding me?!”

In my head, I imagined charging at him like a ram.

But in reality, I simply pointed out that it was handmade,and that he’d just made a bit of a fool of himself.

To his credit, he even apologized — though I doubt he fully understood why.

Hearing those words feels like a stab to the heart.

It’s as if someone is saying:

“What you do doesn’t matter.”

Reducing your work to the level of mass-produced goods (no offense to mass production — it has its place).

It erases the time, the effort, the thought, the long nights behind the piece you’ve made.

Being an artisan today

Being an artisan means exposing a very intimate part of yourself.

It means lying awake at night thinking of new ideas.

It means trying something you imagined… and seeing it fail.

It means obsessing over a process that you’re absolutely sure should work.

It means cursing the world because your tools are acting up, or you’re simply tired and make a silly mistake that costs you hours of work.

But it also means feeling a deep satisfaction when you finish a piece and know it turned out just right — like something you’ve “given birth to.”

You’ve put a tiny part of yourself into it, and now it will go out into the world with whoever takes it home.

And then there are those beautiful moments, when someone who truly understands compliments your work and maybe even buys something, saying:

“I’ll think of you every time I wear it.”

Being a weaver today

Being a weaver is a calling, even before it’s a profession.

It’s about carrying on an ancient craft, made of gestures repeated for centuries.

There’s a certain reverence in doing it — a sense of participating in something much greater than yourself.

Being a weaver today is an uphill road.

I knew that even before I started this adventure.

But it’s a climb I take willingly, step by step.

And I know I won’t stop —

not until I’ve reached the top.

Definition of artisan -craftmanship

Home page

Products