Weaving stories
Many of my best childhood memories took place in a small storefront in Berea, Kentucky. The Cooper Shoppe was an old-time Appalachian handicrafts store that sold handmade wood carvings, rolled beeswax candles, small paintings, and — best of all — homemade fudge. Behind it all were my grandparents, the Coopers, who opened the store in response to increasing tour bus traffic down I-75. Their store was the first of many on what is still a vibrant stretch of traditional stores and artisan galleries.
My pleasant memories of the shop may have been tempered by all that fudge (it was so good), but I was also fascinated by all the different skills that went into making the wares. There was very little sold in the store that wasn’t made by my grandparents themselves. As they sat behind the till, they were always working on something, and I would sit and watch as they carved, rolled, stirred, and stitched.
The craft that seemed the most like magic to me (fudge aside) was the weaving. My grandmother worked fast on a small wooden loom, which my grandfather had made custom for her, turning out straps, bookmarks, coasters, and ornaments. She combined colors artfully and doodled patterns in her notebooks, always trying new methods to achieve intricate designs.
This loom was called an inkle loom, and when my grandmother passed away in 2011, I inherited hers. I recently learned to use the loom in the midst of a busy fall. I decided to recreate her woven bookmarks to share with friends and fellow readers.
These bookmarks are also a way of sharing her story as an artisan. In our society, activities like weaving, sewing, and embroidery are often considered “crafts,” not “art.” But as I learned the amount of skill involved in turning out even the simplest strap, I came to appreciate the artistry that goes into this work. By sharing my grandmother’s crafts and stories, I hope that my community will learn a little bit about the tradition of inkle weaving. And most of all, I hope that the readers who receive my bookmarks will use them in their favorite books — because as I sat there watching my grandmother weave, my fingers sticky with fudge, I always, always had a book.
