2020 Melinda West – London Craft Week at J&M Davidson – Interview
JMD: When did you first start basket weaving? What inspired you?
MW: Being in nature is my inspiration, the place I find comfort, wonder and delight. I’ve been fortunate to live in places near vacant lots, trail-heads, beaches, or mountains. I remember making my first basket out of a pile of willow trimmings found while beach-combing with my young sons, then ages five and two. Together, we instinctively fashioned a nest-like basket into which the boys carefully placed egg-shaped stones they found. That was pure fun. I was hooked!
JMD: Weaving is an ancient craft. Do you have a style or era that inspires you? Where have you learned techniques?
MW: I live on the traditional territory of the Suquamish Tribe, “The People of Clear Salt Water”, a sovereign nation of Indigenous Coast Salish Peoples who have lived here since time immemorial. From the moment I began to pay attention to the Native plants growing around our house and in the margins of our food garden, I discovered a deep desire to learn everything I could about these plants and how they were utilized by those who have always lived here along this shoreline – those whose ancestors were digging the same roots and harvesting the same limbs, barks, and grasses.
It’s been my good fortune to have as a friend and neighbor, Ed Carriere, one of the few remaining Suquamish Basket Makers, who was willing to share his knowledge with me. Over the past four decades of friendship, whenever I’ve learned something about the use of another plant material, I would run to share knowledge and techniques with him. And as Ed Carriere’s fame has grown over the years and he has traveled the world sharing his knowledge, he always comes back from his trips and shares all the good things he’s learned with me, like techniques from the Ainu in Japan, and the Maori in New Zealand. I am inspired by the universality of many fiber techniques and how everyone’s ancestors where likely from weaving cultures. But I am solidly grounded in those processes used for materials unique to the Pacific Northwest of North America. I use the traditional knowledge I’ve learned to create contemporary art work as well as traditional utilitarian basketry for garden and home.
JMD: What are some of the fibers you use and where do you find them?
MW: These days I use the plant fibers within my reach. I plant and grow many of my favorite materials because I have realized for many years that those pristine places – estuaries, forests, wetlands, meadows – all the places that basket makers have always gathered – these places are diminishing, giving way to rampant development. For three decades, every May or June, I would gather Western Red Cedar bark in the mountains, with my friend Polly Adams Sutton. With permissions, we would pull bark from trees that were soon to be clear-cut for lumber. And each July, I would gather my favorite three-sided Sweet Grass from beautiful estuaries. But now, as it should be, the few estuaries left intact today are in protected Wilderness Areas. Not wanting to cause further impact on those special places, my husband created “bogs” in large pots in our own garden in order to grow the three-sided Sweet Grass, as well as Cattail. Every opportunity I have, I plant young Western Red Cedar trees for the next generation of Basket Makers.
JMD: Do you know what you are making before you start? Do you have a plan, or do you take guidance from the articles?
MW: Most of the time I know what I’m making before I start because all the materials need to be gathered, cured (drying process), soaked, mellowed (sitting in damp towels for a prescribed time), and prepared by splitting into layers which are the proper thickness and size for the particular project. I know that doesn’t sound very creative or spontaneous; however, three-fourths of the time required to complete a project is in this gathering and preparation of materials, which provides a lot of time for thought and reflection, and often leads to inspiration – envisioning something I wish to make next. Then one-fourth of the time is the actual weaving or assembling of the prepared materials. Many times I make mistakes or misjudgments of how something might go together, and this becomes a great learning opportunity and experimental process which may take my original idea in a whole new direction.
Sometimes I have an idea going into a project, but I don’t exactly know how it will come together. One time after splitting cedar roots and limbs for hours, I went to bed with my hands quite sore. That night I dreamed my hands were gnarly, twisted root balls at the end of my arms. I could see them so clearly. Most people would be frightened by a vivid dream like that – but I was actually comforted by seeing that my hands were becoming part of the cedar tree.
Another time, when I had an ambitious project idea, I wanted to make a large bird-like form that gives the feeling of flying, being transported and could be mounted on a wall. I didn’t know how to go about making it. But then I dreamed the process of how exactly to make the wing-like piece. I have made many “Wings” since and some are in public art collections.
I do listen to the materials and take cues from them, even when I’m making a utilitarian basket for the garden or for home decoration and storage. If there is a flaw, a curve, a burrow, or a knot in a material, rather than toss it, I will try to feature that flaw, and build the basket or art piece in a way that shows off the irregularity. My goal is not to make something perfect, but to let the materials tell their story.
My appreciation for imperfection has grown over the years. The marks, bug or clam tracks, contorted roots, all have a story – about struggles in life – survival – and innate beauty – and I find that meaningful. I weave with time-honored materials and techniques, and I feel grateful to be part of a continuum of makers. I am participating in a living art form which tells the story of transformation – how humble materials such as tree barks, grasses, roots and limbs can become transformed into a handy basket, or elevated into a timeless work of art.
