In this episode, Kelly Manjula Koza talks about founding Sardinian Arts, outlines key events from the first years, and hints at what’s to come.
Transcript
After that first trip to Sardinia in September of 2013, I returned to the States and started Sardinian Arts. It was a calling of the heart. My intent with Sardinian Arts has always been to work with and support the handweaving artists and promote their art. The handweavers and their textiles are dear to me, as have become Sardinia, her people, and her culture. My adventures and the story of Sardinian Arts have mea ndered and evolved over the years — and will continue to do so.
In this episode, I’ll give you a brief history of how some key moments with Sardinian Arts have unfolded, where things are going. This is not intended as a history lesson, but an overview so that you have a tiny hint of some of what I’ll discuss in more detail in upcoming episodes. Sardinia always brings interesting stories, amazing adventures, and much learning about myself as well as the island, her people, her ways, and, of course, her textiles.
Back to that autumn and early winter of 2013: I did some research online about Sardinian handwoven textiles, but you couldn’t find much, and what I did find were websites of a factory and a power loom shop that displayed photos of a hand loom on their home pages. I emailed a few addresses I found online, yet received no reply from my enquiries about visiting. Despite this, I was determined to find and meet the handweavers I knew had to still work on the island. So, I returned to Sardinia in January of 2014, three months after my first trip. As you may, know January is not the tourist season in Sardinia, and many places are closed, so the timing of the trip itself made for many interesting adventures.
The most significant adventure from that trip is that I met the Frongias, the weavers featured in the film I Want to Weave the Weft of Time. Like most — if not all — of my adventures in Sardinia, meeting them seems to have been synchronistically arranged. The Frongias have become family, and I have many stories to tell of my time with them, ranging from how I met them, to how the film was made, to what I’ve learned about Sardinian handweaving and Sardinia from them and others.
That January, I also visited factories and power loom shops, and had my introduction to what call the three classes of Sardinian textiles, which is an important theme in my work. My intent was and always has been to work with the women who weave and work by hand. However, as I hinted earlier, finding handweavers who work professionally is not always easy. Even in Sardinia, there are textile factories, or mills, that use large-scale automated looms to produce mass quantities of rugs, bedspreads, and other items for tourists and daily use. There are power loom shops where electric hydraulic looms run by themselves, yet can be stopped so the loom operator can insert a row or few of decoration by hand before pressing the button to resume the loom’s automated motion. I call these textiles produced on powerlooms “hand-decorated”, for they can be made in a fraction of the time it takes a handweaver to make a handwoven textile. Mill-made and hand-decorated textiles have their place and their market, yet they are too often sold as “handmade”, which creates problems I’ll outline in later episodes. This, by the way, is not a problem unique to Sardinia.
Back to that January trip when I met the Frongias. That’s also when I began filming I Want to Weave the Weft of Time, even though I had not envisioned making a film, hadn’t brought my video camera, and at first thought the video might be a short five or ten minute piece. Stories!
I came back from the trip full of ideas and questions. After I gave my first presentation to a group in California, I realized even more deeply the importance of educating people. My vision expanded from merely having trunk shows. I wanted to make a beautiful film that would touch hearts and open minds to Sardinia and Sardinian handwoven textiles. I also wanted to produce and curate an exhibit to introduce these textiles and weavers to the United States.
The vision continued to grow and to take form. Even though I was working full time in the corporate world, I put together the Sardinian Arts website, started looking into launching an exhibit, investigating everything from venues to customs regulations and historic Sardinian textiles. I hired an assistant to handle social media, market research, and administriva. My Italian tutor Gabri helped me with my Italian language skills and coached me on how to work with Italian officials and politicians, handle communication nuances, and so much more. His help was key in drafting the English and Italian proposal and Memorandum of Understanding for the exhibit and related events that I presented to the Italian Cultural Institute in San Francisco and eventual partners in Sardinia.
From 2014 through 2017, I made many trips to Sardinia, met many handweavers, power loom shop owners, factory owners, and officials. Of course I learned much — and also had a good bit of fun, as well as stress. The film was finished in late 2016, and was made golden by an amazing musical score by Ruth Mendelson. Parts of that score are in featured the podcast’s intro and outgo.
The film was shown independently and as part of the Exhibit of Sardinian Handwoven Textiles, which was held at the Italian Cultural Institute in San Francisco during January and February of 2017. A number of related events accompanied the show. The success of these put Sardinian Handwoven Textiles on the map. I smile because despite their success, the exhibit and related events were, at the end, toned down from what had been planned due to a series of unfortunate events. Some of the unforeseen events were rather tragic, such as an illness in the family that prevented the Frongias from traveling to San Francisco for the exhibit and workshops. Some mishaps were almost comic, such as the landslide that washed away the custom loom I had had commissioned to be built for the international interactive weaving project that accompanied the show. Stories for another episode!
One of the interesting learning adventures that came from organizing and curating this first exhibit of Handwoven textiles is that the commercial textile shops in Sardinia petitioned me to introduce their machine-made textiles to the States. Even though my heart is with the handwoven, and I knew the difficulties of importing commercial textiles, I did research further, and presented to the mill owners and power loom shop owners the extensive challenges, hidden-to-them costs, and specific terms under which I would consider starting a second endeavor for their commercial textiles. I was firm that textiles be labeled as hand-woven, hand-decorated, or factory-made, both in Sardinia — which is not currently required — as well as for export. We never came to an agreement — which thankfully left me free to pursue Sardinian Arts and my love of handwoven textiles — and I know the work I do ultimately benefits all those associated with textiles in Sardinia, including the power loom shops and the mills.
On a related note, I’ve had a handful of very large international businesses ask me if I would help them procure Sardinian handwoven textiles — or even traditional designs — that those large businesses could copy cheaply in their factories in other countries. Absolutely not! There’s no way would I sell out those dear to me, especially when I work to promote and protect them. So many adventures I didn’t expect!
In 2018 -2019, I continued my trips to Sardinia, building my collection of textiles, increasing my knowledge and connections, and, of course, my appreciation and love of the island and her people. I gave presentations to handweaving guilds and other groups in the US, and took steps to further my vision. To prepare for those next steps, I unincorporated Sardinian Arts to lower administrative costs, and streamlined tasks so that I could handle them myself. In August 2019, I left my corporate job to focus on Sardinian Arts. I wanted to produce and curate additional exhibits, and finally get to setting up trunk shows and sales. I knew I was taking a risk, yet I planned to supplement and support the initial jump by part-time consulting gigs with a few small businesses in California and Milano.
As 2019 wound down, it became clear that little was going to unfold as expected. I was still in Milano when we began to hear about the pandemic erupting in China. I left Italy days before the pandemic reached Milano, returning to the Bay Area to more intently focus on work with my beloved textiles. Then, the pandemic hit the US. Lockdown was obviously not the time for exhibitions and trunk shows. As so many of us did during the pandemic, I turned to Zoom and expanded my online community and presentations. I went from presenting Sardinian textiles to discussing more about Sardinia, her history, other arts, culture, traveling on the island, and much that required me to research and expand my own knowledge.
For many of us, the shifting of plans the pandemic initiated extended beyond the end of lockdown. In 2022, I decided to step back into the corporate world for a bit to boost my finances. I resumed my visits to Sardinia, continued behind-the-scenes activities with Sardinian Arts, and expanded my collection and connections, yet pulled back a bit on outreach during this phase. It surprised me that this phase lasted longer than I had planned. It was early 2025 when I once again returned to focus on Sardinian Arts.
As we all know, 2025 has been another interesting year, and it’s taken me some time to regain momentum with Sardinian Arts. In addition to the global events that affect all of us, I had to take care of some personal matters and clear my head from the rather unique world of Silicon Valley high-tech in which I had been working. I then spent a few months in Sardinia, which was somewhat relaxing, but also busy and intense. As always, I was keen to further expand my knowledge and connections on the island, as I’ve been revamping the path forward for Sardinian Arts with a much-expanded vision. For instance, I’ve formalized some of what I’ve been doing casually for years, such as helping people learn about traveling to or moving to Sardinia. I’ve organized tours of the island, primarily for handweavers and textile enthusiasts, but also for anyone else interested in the beauty and culture of Sardina. Other initiatives are on the drawing board.
As you can tell, there’s so much to talk about, and I’ve only hinted at a few of the topics we’ll be discussing in future episodes: Handwoven textiles, handweavers, heritage designs, dyes, the wool issue and other challenges weavers face; and special places, people, and traveling in Sardinia; the culture, arts, and history of the island — there’s so much! I look forward to more — and I hope you do as well.
In this episode, Kelly Manjula Koza answers the question she’s often asked: “How it is that you came to know about Sardinia and her weavers?”
Transcript
People often ask how it is that I came to know about Sardinia, the weavers, and to work with them.
It’s rather complex and amazing story full of synchronicity, and it reaches back to my childhood. I like to tell the story using textile terms of warp (the foundational threads of a textile) and weft (the threads that are later interwoven into the warp). I think it’s easier to understand this way!
The first warp thread is that I had the good fortune to grow up with a mother, Carole, who was an amazing designer and maker who could figure out anything and make anything. She was especially adept with textiles. An incredible seamstress, she made most of her own clothes, and many of mine when I was young. She could design, make, repair, upholster, or improve anything. She also crocheted, embroidered, and did a bit of weaving. I watched her and listened to her explain her techniques, learned how things were constructed, and came to appreciate what it took to make something by hand — particularly clothes and textiles. While I didn’t want be behind the sewing machine doing this myself — I wanted to be outside playing sports, or off in a corner reading a book — I always loved watching her work, and loved going to the fabric store with her because I loved the sight, feel, and beauty of the cloth. I learned much from my mom, and gained a great appreciation of the fiber arts, fabric, and what it took to make textiles. I also gained a great appreciation of the handmade, and the women (it’s usually women!) who make textiles and textile-based items by hand. I could also, from what my mom taught me, identify by both physical characteristics and sense, when something was handmade.
When I went to university, this appreciation grew even further. I majored in Design, and at the University of Arizona, my favorite courses were the Fiber Arts courses taught by Gayle Wimmer. Gayle was an internationally renowned fiber artist who had worked in six or eight different countries before and during her time running the Fiber Arts Department at the UofA. Gayle was a huge influence, expanding my knowledge and appreciation of the fiber arts, of international artists, and even of languages (which I always loved — and she was fluent in six!). However, while Gayle deepened my love and appreciation of textiles, I knew becoming a weaver was not my path — if anything, I sensed that one day I might collect textiles, out of my love for them and to support the women artists who make them.
This love of textiles from an early age is obviously a key warp thread, foundational in this story of what led me to Sardinia and the weavers. Another such thread also comes from my childhood: The tactile memory of a certain bedspread we had when I was an infant. The memory is of a bedspread filled with bumps of fabric, in a pattern I used to run my hand over and over. While the bedspread disappeared when I was a young child, the memory persisted. In the early 2000’s, I tried to find a similar bedspread. Since my mom had passed a few years prior, I could not ask her for any helpful information. I searched and searched, but could find nothing. I had no idea what the bedspread type was called, or even where to look beyond the stores and internet. I gave up, yet the memory of that bedspread persisted.
The final thread of the warp laying the foundation of this story is another childhood memory. When I was young, and even into my 20’s, I had a recurring dream of an absolutely stunning and unique beach: The water was a clear yet deep blue, absolutely beautiful. The sky was a different hue of blue, yet equally, amazingly blue. In the foreground was a beach of fantastically-shaped giant rocks. In the distance, I saw the silhouette of another island rising out of the water. I somehow knew this was an island, but I never knew where it was. Sometimes I thought it was might be along California’s Pacific Coast. Other times, I thought perhaps it was Wales, or Greece, or — no, none of those were quite right. Mediterranean — perhaps “Italy but not Italy”. That felt right. But I wasn’t even certain if this was a real island, or just an island of my dreams!
So these are foundational warp threads of the story: A love and appreciation of textiles and their makers; a bumpy bedspread, and a magical mysterious island of my dreams.
The weft threads that fill in and complete the story began in about 2012. That’s when I began to study Italian (which is another story in itself). In early 2013 I read my first book in Italian. It was a biography, and Sardinia was a key location mentioned. I knew where Sardinia was, but I didn’t know where Gallura was on the island. Like any of us do when we’re studying a new language or a new topic and we want to learn something, I went online to search. I entered “Gallura Sardinia” — and what popped up on the screen sent shivers down my spine.
I was looking at photos of the exact same coastline that I had seen so often in my dreams.
I still get shivers thinking about that moment. And – of course I had to go to this coastline, this island of my dreams.
In September 2013, I made my first trip to Sardinia. A friend came with me, and of course we visited the beaches in Gallura, and more. I would have been content to stay at the beach the entire short trip, yet my friend wanted to visit some of the little towns on the northeast tip of Sardinia, one in particular, so we did. The town was once a fishing village, and over time had come to cater more to tourists. As we walked around the old downtown area, which was full of small shops, we came across a shop with a sign indicating they sold textiles. Of course I wanted to check it out. As we approached, I saw that the shop window was full of rugs, cushions, and bedspreads — all with the little fabric bumps I remembered from that long-ago bedspread from when I was an infant!
We went in — of course! — and bought a few items. The woman in the shop told me that the items were handmade, and yet while they were nicely made, I knew that what I had bought was not handmade. There are always beautiful little details of workmanship that give away the handmade, and more than that, there’s a feeling, an essence, an anima or spirit of the maker in textiles that are handmade. I knew the textiles I had bought were nicely made — and I knew they were not handmade. More than that, I also knew that there had to be women who were still weaving by hand in Sardinia. Perhaps they were older, perhaps they were in the center of the island (where I already knew traditions lasted longer), perhaps there were not many — but I knew there had to be women still weaving by hand in Sardinia.
I also knew — then and there — that I wanted to come back and find those women and their textiles. So I did.
(An earlier blog post containing a slightly different telling of this story is here.)
Dalla Lana Alla Trama (From Wool to Weft) is a short documentary made in 2007 about the handweavers, traditions, and related culture of Nule, Sardegna.
Nule and several of the weavers in the film are also featured on Sardinian Arts — see this page.
Enjoy!
Dalla Lana Alla Trama – storia della tessitura di Nule (2007) Running Time: 27:27 Produced by the Janas Cultural Association in collaboration with the Town of Nule and the Region of Sardegna Filmmaker: PJ Gambioli Original Soundtrack: Stefano Ferrari Full credits are on the film itself
Textiles have become a commodity, as have clothes, food, and pretty much everything in our lives. In fact, humans and humanity have nearly become a commodity. In the modern Western world, it seems that individuals are not valued or considered except as consumers, granular components of target audiences which large corporations seek to identify as potential buyers of material stuff.
While I do realize there is a place for industry (green, please), technology (much of which I love), and commercial items, including textiles produced in mills and powerloom shops, we can’t disregard humanity, individual human lives, the human touch, or compassion. Doing so only makes individuals — us — feel lost, disconnected, unloved, and purposeless. In an increasingly technological, commercial world that negates or exploits most human qualities for profit, we need objects made by human hands and with natural materials. I believe our nervous and energetic systems, our bodies, our hands, and our spirits seek, consciously or not, objects that connect us to nature and other humans.
Living and working in the greater Silicon Valley, I not only experience this myself, but see an increasing number of software engineers, kids who grow up with gizmos everywhere, and older folks who are tired of having their hands on keyboards searching for “something missing”. Humans, the human touch, and human compassion cannot be commoditized or programmed into a gizmo.
Arts, crafts, and handmade objects help fill the gap so many feel — not only in a material sense, but in a greater sense. When a person makes something by hand, their attention, their care, their love for what they are doing, and their unique human touch is infused into what they make. These impart an unquantifiable essence of the handmade into what they make. This essence, this quality, is distinct from yet complements the artistic skill and technical mastery a maker brings to their art. This unquantifiable essence of the handmade is tangible to our nervous and energy systems, and to our spirit — whether we know it or not.
The unquantifiable essence of the handmade is a great part of what make handmade items and handwoven textiles so valuable, in both tangible and intangible ways. The object, the weaving itself is valuable. The essence of the object is invaluable. We sense this, even if we can’t explain it. And we want handmade items — those we make ourselves, or those we buy from the artists, the craftspeople, the handweavers.
People and their handwork are not commodities. Both are priceless.
~ KM Koza
The photo shows a detail of one of Eugenia Pinna‘s textiles as she weaves it by hand.
This presentation will be September 15, 2021 at 6pm San Francisco time. The event is free, but you must register to attend.
Join me online for this free event to explore the indescribable beauty of Sardinian handwoven textiles, see the loving and painstaking artistry of their creation, meet the tessitrici artigianali — the unique women weavers who maintain the tradition of a nearly-lost art — and glimpse just a bit of Sardinia’s majesty.
I’ll discuss the importance of the handmade, the relevance these women, their weavings, and their traditions have in our modern world, and the anima (spirit) of Sardinian handwoven textiles. I’ll share portions of my film as well as photos, stories of the weavers and my adventures on the island, and show some of my personal textile collection.
There’s no charge for the event, but you must register ahead of time. Click here to go to Eventbrite and register. You’ll receive confirmation and reminder emails with the Zoom link to the event.
Join me for a free online screening of my documentary I Want to Weave the Weft of Time August 18, 2021 (Wednesday) from 6 to 7.30pm (18.00 to 19.30) San Francisco time.
I’ll add filmmaker’s commentary to provide a glimpse of how the film came about, the synchronicity of its making, working with the weavers, the soundtrack’s creation, and more. I’ll also share stories and additional video clips, including outtakes and works in progress, and answer questions.
There’s no charge for the event, but you must register ahead of time. Click here to go to Eventbrite and register. You’ll receive confirmation and reminder emails with the Zoom link to the event.
The various traditions and styles of handweaving found across the island of Sardinia have important lessons to teach us, lessons that reach beyond the art and craft of handweaving and into the modern world.
On this Mediterranean island roughly the size of Vermont, the tradition of handweaving is legendary. The weavings of Samugheo are arguably the most distinctive: Pibiones, or small bumps of thread creating a raised design on a textile’s surface, are traditional. The weavings of Nule and Aggius, both towns with strong textile traditions, differ in their design and somewhat in their creation. Each of these towns is respected within Sardinia for its unique style of weaving, yet the motifs and techniques characteristic of each town are echoed in the textiles of distant cultures and countries.
When I present Sardinian textiles outside the island, weavers and collectors sometimes see hints of these similarities. The pibiones of Samugheo somewhat resemble boules created by Acadian weavers. The weavings of Nule often incorporate designs similar to textiles made by Native Americans from the Southwest United States and Mexico. The designs of Aggius resemble motifs found in weavings of Poland and Lithuania. The list continues, as the similarities between textiles of different lands are sometimes more apparent than the similarities of textiles from within different areas of Sardinia.
While it’s interesting to ponder the threads of influence strung between geographic regions and traditional cultures across the globe, what I find more striking is something simple yet too often discounted: Whether we talk of languages, architecture, the arts in general, handweaving specifically, or any aspect of this tapestry we call humanity, the origins, influences, techniques, and motifs are interwoven and interdependent.
And in any textile, not one single thread can be tensed, damaged, or removed without changing the integrity of the textile as a whole.
Join me live online for an intimate series of presentations about Sardinian handwoven textiles, the women who maintain nearly-lost weaving traditions, and more!
In this free series, I’ll be sharing my stories, videos, and photos of the women weavers and their distinctive textiles; showing weavings from my own collection; discussing the history and revival of Sardinian handweaving; providing a historical and cultural overview of Sardinia; giving you a photographic tour of the island; answering your questions; and more!
This series starts Saturday January 23, 2021. See the full schedule below.
If you have missed earlier sessions, you can still come to later sessions!
PS — Before the events, I very much suggest that you watch I Want to Weave the Weft of Time, my free 30 minute documentary on handweaving in Sardina. You can also find the video directly by going to WeaveWeftofTime.com.
Saturdays at 11am Pacific / Noon Mountain / 1pm Central / 2pm Eastern. Each session will last 60-90 minutes.
January 23 — Introduction, Background, and Film Highlights with Commentary
January 30 — Weaving in Samugheo
February 6 — Weaving in Nule
February 13 — Weaving in Aggius
February 20 — Converging Threads: The Importance of the Handmade, How Weaving Came to Sardinia, the Resurrection, and More Please note the dates below have been corrected!
February 27 — Sardinian History, Culture, and Arts Beyond Weaving
March 6 — Sardinian Tour: Photos and Stories Around the Island
My favorite way to illustrate this stems from design school. Back in a time when we drew straight lines by hand using T-squares, triangles, and Rapidograph pens, we used a simple exercise to demonstrate that absolute care, attention, and precision was necessary in creating the very first to the very last element of a project.
Think of drawing horizontal lines on a piece of paper to emulate a 8.5″ x 10″ sheet of notebook paper, which generally has about 32 lines. If you were to draw the lines by hand, you would start from the bottom of the page, draw a base line, use that line to align and draw the line above it, and then use the newly-drawn line to align and draw the line above it, continuing this process until all lines on the page are complete.
If the very first line you drew was off level by 1/32 of an inch — the width of a fine pen nib — your design would be ruined: by the top of the page, after repeating the 1/32 inch error 32 times, your top line would be tilted one inch.
Now think of an architect guiding the construction of a skyscraper a hundred stories high, and the precision with which the foundation must be laid. Consider a handweaver making a bedspread that requires weaving thousands of crosswise weft-fibers, and the careful alignment necessary for the first row, and every row, of fibers. Think of the navigators, mathematicians, and engineers calculating courses for ships traveling oceans, skies, universes, and how the initial degree, minute, and second of direction must be absolutely precise, and then checked and corrected constantly to ensure the ship reaches the intended destination. The tiniest bit of imprecision — or an unseen factor affecting calculations or the project — would drastically change the outcome.*
Simply put, the tiniest detail affects the outcome in ways we can’t imagine.
This is true within and beyond architecture, construction, navigation, sciences, arts, and crafts. This is true in everything — and for everyone. This is true for presidents, prime ministers, actors, sports figures, scientists, saints, mystics, people of fame — and each and every one of us.
Each one of us affects the whole. And each of our actions affects the whole.
This can be staggering to consider — yet this realization is also a gift, a blessing.
If each of us, each of our actions, each of our interactions, each of our words affect the whole, affects our world, how do we watch, use, care for our actions, our words, and that which we contribute to our world?
Do we, in our personal spheres and work, act with disregard, condescension, hatred, and anger, spewing toxic dark clouds of negativity that increase with time and distance to create chaos, war, and destruction on a global scale?
Or do we bring awareness, compassion, love, and care for small things into the tiny moments of our daily lives, filling what we touch with light, harmony, and joy — all of which increase with time and distance to create a world more beautiful, inclusive, harmonious, and supportive that we can perhaps imagine?
When we realize that we’re all connected and that each one of us contributes to the creation of the world we share, I believe we have the responsibility to act upon that realization: to live with love, act with compassion, care for small things, and give attention to the tiny moments of life.
If the tiny things are cared for, if small acts are done with love and kindness, if we bring joy to our work, if we treat people, animals, plants, nature with compassion — imagine how the results would — will — magnify.
Can we each play our part, no matter how small it seems, to help the world change for good, beyond what we can imagine?
I think of those so often invisible in our modern world, and what they bring to us. Living and working with care, compassion, love, and awareness are mystics, mothers, artists, and others, including handweavers.
Women weaving in the hills of Sardinia; rebozo weavers and lace-makers in Oaxaca and Teotihuacan; Native Americans weaving in the Southwestern U.S.A; rug-makers weaving in the Middle East; sari-weavers in India; and others comprising the dwindling numbers of handweavers: All are working with care, focus, and attention, placing and aligning each fiber of every textile they weave.
Beautiful textiles are the visible, tangible result of the precision and care handweavers bring to their work.
But what are the invisible, intangible results?
Perhaps the fragile balance of our world is subtly maintained by the magnified effect of the order, precision, care, and love the handweavers bring to their work.
Who’s to say otherwise?
*Professor Edward Lorenz famously discussed how small acts — the change of a single variable in a set of conditions — would be magnified over time and distance and thus change outcomes. This has become known as the “butterfly effect”, simply stated as a butterfly flapping its wings in one part of the world could cause a typhoon on the other side of the world.
