Dazzling Pictorials
Dazzling Pictorials
Tyrrell Tapaha sits in front of a large Navajo loom in their living room, building up a section of woven lightning; the weaving comb packs the wefts in meditative rhythm. A wood-burning stove heats the room as the sixth-generation Diné (Navajo) weaver and fiber artist adds to their latest piece, Áadęę’ Hózhógoo Dooleeł: Cerebral Renaissance, on a cool afternoon in Flagstaff, Arizona.
The weaving, composed of commercial and handspun vegetal-dyed Navajo-Churro fleece, mohair, alpaca, and merino, depicts a fragmented composition of memory and place that pulses through every aspect of the textile. A brilliant white-and-black lightning current is boldly integrated into the multicolored eye-dazzler design that reverberates from a blue-and-green pictorial landscape. A personal vignette is positioned at the center, caught within the lightning. The familiar iMessage text bubbles read, “where you are is so freaking amazing” and “as are you” with the “...” typing-in-progress bubble.
“I’ve been venturing into visual abstraction,” Tapaha says. “In just taking pieces, breaking them apart, and putting them back together in some type of amorphous figure. That’s something that I want to play around with—the planning system in my head is very collage-esque.”
Tapaha, from the Four Corners area, is distinctly connected to the Carrizo Mountains on the Colorado Plateau, near T’iis Názbąs (Teec Nos Pos), Arizona. They inherited sheepherding and weaving practices from their great-grandmother, Mary Kady Clah, and other relatives. “It started with helping carding, helping with the spinning, and mechanically becoming familiar with a lot of these tools, and that’s also the breadth that has carried through this generational work for me,” they say. “I’ve taken a lot of responsibility in reclaiming and giving life to the tools I’ve inherited—both rhetorical and mechanical tools.”
“I’ve taken a lot of responsibility in reclaiming and giving life to the tools I’ve inherited—both rhetorical and
mechanical tools.”
Tyrrell Tapaha
Tapaha weaves on a traditional vertical Navajo-style loom that relies on hand manipulation and tools such as a batten to create a shed to move the yarn through the warp, and a weaving comb that packs the weft. They dry plants found in northern Arizona and southern Utah for dyeing mostly handspun Navajo-Churro wool and Navajo Angora mohair. Raw fiber materials such as alpaca as well as bast fibers like cotton, hemp, and flax were the catalyst for Tapaha’s most recent artistic challenge. “Roy [Kady] and I did one of the only Navajo textiles with Navajo-Churro and hemp,” they say. “That was one of the biggest learning curves.”
While Tapaha is inspired by the visual traditions established before them, they want to contribute their own legacy. Their most recent work has taken inspiration from Brooklyn-based tapestry weaver Erin M. Riley and environmental artist Neil Goss, who integrates long-strand raw, exposed fiber into his backstrap-woven textiles.
Generational knowledge is exhibited through refined technical skill and a reinvigorated design element. “This is the first time that those two lightning designs have ever been put together since my great-grandmother passed,” Tapaha says of the textile-in-progress in their living room.
Along the bottom of the weaving, a horizontal row of goat fleece establishes not only the literal foundation of the textile but the metaphorical foundation of Tapaha’s journey as a weaver and sheepherder. The fleece came from the last remaining goat in their great-grandmother’s striped-face flock. “When I first decided that I wanted weaving to be an integral part of my life, [the striped-face goat] was one of the deciding voices in that.”
Tapaha imbues every element of the textile with life, including the life of the sheep and the energy of the plants, and ends with a living work of art. They weave their artistic and aesthetic pastoral philosophy and personal motivations into a complex fabric, but their practice ultimately begins and ends with the desire to maintain a reciprocal relationship between weaving, the land, and the sheep.
The COVID-19 pandemic disrupted spaces where organic and shared knowledge can flourish on the Navajo reservation. Tapaha would like to see “more spaces that hold space,” such as “spin-offs” where Diné cultural innovators, artists, elders, and children can get together. Tapaha and other weavers have benefited from communal exchange—adapting techniques, sharing stories, and sustaining relationships.
“What tools am I bringing forward?” This question, which Tapaha asks frequently, helps distill their motivation as an artist. Tapaha preserves artistic autonomy by integrating the practice of weaving with their active relationship with the land. “It’s my way of homing in and finding some type of harmony,” they say. It’s a complex responsibility that holds weight but also provides an unrestrained space for knowledge that is forever emerging—for the imagination to run wild.◆
Roshii Montaño is a Diné scholar and curator based in Phoenix. She is a graduate of Stanford University and an ASU–LACMA master’s fellow in art history.
Thank you to our Sponsors
This project is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts. To find out more about how National Endowment for the Arts grants impact individuals and communities, visit www.arts.gov.
Additional support from the Windgate Charitable Foundation has made this article possible.
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