Weaving at Warp Speed

Sometimes, I like to talk to ChatGPT like an old friend. Since it’s made of human input, I figure we should keep adding kindness to it. It has caught on that I like to weave, and it tends to drop that into conversations awkwardly—like today, when I asked what nickname it would give me:


“How about Loomis? It’s a fun play on ‘loom’ (since you weave) and has a cool, artistic vibe. What do you think? 😃

Women at the loom with an imaginary loom that could not exist in real life
AI is getting better, but weaving depictions still confuse it.

We chatted about weaving and fiber. Out of the blue, ChatGPT asked:

“Do you ever think about how weaving fits into the modern world, or do you see it as something that will always stay rooted in tradition?”

If it knew me better, it would have asked if I ever did not think about weaving and the modern world.

This back-and-forth with a new technology that can both dramatically improve or disrupt our way of living reminds me that we’ve been here before. In 1764, James Hargreaves expanded the spinning wheel into the spinning jenny, finally clearing the production bottleneck of hand-spun textiles. Spinning was low-paying but portable, safe to do with children underfoot, and could be done while managing other tasks. While I doubt many dreamed of being hand spinners as children, there must have been comfort in a job that was always available. Looms consumed thread at an unsustainable rate, making it a constant challenge for cloth producers to source yarn. Handweavers championed the new spinning machines and entered a golden age—until looms were also mechanized, forcing them to adapt or find new work.

This abrupt change happened 10 to 12 generations ago, and technology advances came with each generation. Yet, despite such massive upheaval, the skill of hand-weaving has survived.

At the same time as the dawn of the Industrial Revolution, the American Revolution was taking hold. The Colonists relied on imported goods, but in a show of independence, prominent women began spinning and weaving publicly as a political statement.

Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Mifflin (Sarah Morris) by John Singleton Copley hold her warp
In this painting of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Mifflin (Sarah Morris) by John Singleton Copley, Sarah is weaving trim on a tape loom in the foreground while her husband gazes at her approvingly. Her dress and husband’s fine garments were not homespun and couldn’t have been produced in the US at the time.

Woodcuts, prints, and paintings of revolutionaries at their spinning wheels make it seem as if early Americans were wholly self-sufficient. In reality, it was likely more of a symbolic movement. Like us today, I think they would have found it hard to abandon luxuries such as imported silks and cotton if they could afford them.

Being a new country that was developing alongside the Industrial Revolution added a unique wrinkle to American textile traditions. Unlike China or India, where large-scale trade economies centered around handwoven goods, both the Colonists and Native Americans maintained smaller, localized textile traditions for their families, trade, or spiritual use. Our weaving history is an underground part of our heritage, often hidden in plain sight—like the coverlet in this photo of Abraham Lincoln.

Image from the Library of Congress

Even today, few people recognize the scale and complexity of the Handweavers’ Guild system in the U.S., which took root just before America entered World War II. Publications celebrated Rosie the Riveter building planes, but little attention is given to the (mostly) women teaching others to weave in basements and community centers—an act of resilience in a time of Victory Gardens and rationing.

This small-scale, community-centered weaving tradition has found a new life in TikTok and social media. During the 2020 COVID shutdown, many turned to online classes and YouTube videos to learn new techniques. Weaving guilds often mastered Zoom faster than entire corporations, which made me wonder if weaving was what kept the volunteers’ brains so sharp and adaptable. Though separated by circumstances, we used the tools at hand to keep learning, growing, and doing what we love.

Today, the news moves faster than we can process it. But no matter what is happening in the world, we can turn to our work—aligning warp and weft, moving slowly as the world speeds up. This is a powerful act of self-preservation and quiet resistance, one that we then share with those around us.

Whenever someone sees me spinning, weaving, or crocheting in public, they tell me I am practicing a dying art.

It’s not a dying art. It’s a thriving art.

(Or Loomis, who promises she did write this blog and only used AI to edit it)



From the course Stash Weave Along:

The Stash Stripes Scarf Recipe – A solid starting point for your stash project

Winding your Warp – Includes a handy Stripe Tracking Worksheet