Weaving with Residents of an Assisted Living Facility

When I walk into the room, several women are selecting yarns, untangling skeins.  More wander in, some in walkers.  There is a grace hanging about the room.  Their smiles are gentle; quietude pervades the room.  It is not energy of silent lack, but that of a garden gently swaying in the wind.  Some of the people remember that I came a few weeks ago.  Others smile and ask questions, “What is your name?  What are we doing today?”

I return the grace of smiles with a smile and let them know my name. “We will be weaving today.” Here in the assisted living residence, I am very aware that we are not the events of our lives.  We are full, lovely human beings. For many, the present “event” carries the name dementia, for others Alzheimer’s is the declaration.   Each person has lived a life valued and honored. 

One woman wants to weave with a particular yarn.  I show her how to make a butterfly bobbin by wrapping the yarn around her thumb and pinkie finger in a figure eight.  I show them all how easily the yarn unwinds as we need it. She expresses her gratitude. Others smile and beam how wonderful that is! Ten minutes later, my friend asks again to be shown how to make the butterfly bobbin. She lifts her hand and I begin the bobbin; she completes the process.

Providing a balanced art experience is one of reciprocity.  We have come together for a short while to share an experience that involves looms, both frame and table looms, yarn, smiles…and slowly we are experiencing a relationship of joyful sharing.  We all have stories that have given us joy or sadness.  We have a genuine sharing and interest in each other.  Connections begin; an inner tapestry gathers invisible threads.

Several months ago I had begun my visits to the assisted living residence in a nearby town.  When I began, I came to demonstrate my art and ended up inviting participants to weave.  We began with my story. After giving a brief overview of my history, they wanted to know more.  I would give a few sentences of history and ask a question.  Some responses arose. They would ask questions: Questions, sharing…questions, sharing. The dance of our tapestry together had begun.   I showed them the tapestry I was working on….a slowly evolving story…and now, as I showed them with a yarn selected in the moment, my story began to invite them to participate.  One woman, loved art and had been a quilting artist, another woman shared how her mother had made braided rag rugs. “Oh!” another woman said, “My grandmother made rag rugs.  I loved those!” Each one in the circle shared something of their joys.  I asked if anyone would like to try weaving on the table loom.  There was reticence. One volunteered…. And soon there were 10 women around the loom: some helped pull the thread, others worked the treadles, others gave advice, and some held back, just watching.  Others simply stayed in their chairs and when encouraged to join, preferred to stay where they were seated.  Their presence in the room did not escape appreciation from me or my friend, who is the art therapist at the facility.  One woman, who usually stays on the periphery, asked shyly, “May I try?”  She chose a rag strip and began weaving.  At one point, she decided that she was finished, but was very clear that she wanted to leave the end hanging and not weave it into the piece.  She, too, had an artistic vision.  Later, that piece was wrapped gently with copper wire and gemstone beads, a necklace looped over the finished weaving. 

The relationship of artist and workshop participants is very organic.  It grows naturally, we accept each other, are open to each other, and the bouquet of trust slowly releases and fills the room.  It is not something we have an expectation for, or look for, or even when it wafts through the room, it is not something we long to hold and keep.  It simply is or isn’t and it is okay.  We have an attunement that will carry over into my next visits.

VISIT 2

During the subsequent visit, I had a private lesson with one of our workshop participants.  I came prepared with a frame loom threaded.  She came primed with a small, lovely painting of a Colorado canyon…somewhat abstract, very warm. Her talent was evident.  She also had some hand-made beads that she had made earlier in the summer.  We talked of colors, shared the feeling of what she would like to accomplish.  I showed her how she could create a shed by using a flat stick.  It proved too much and she preferred simply using the needles to weave over and under each thread. (When participants come to a weaving class at my studio, we will often begin with a sampler to learn the techniques.  With this direct 1:1, my friend and I allowed the process to evolve.)  She wanted a simple beginning: to know how to weave a few rows of single color.  After feeling comfortable with the process, she wanted to explore some possibilities. She would talk about what she wanted the tapestry to do…I would share how she could accomplish this.  She learned hatching and dove-tailing techniques, as well as rya.   As the morning progressed she began to weave some of the strands of beads in, learned how to build up an area and create a flowing feeling.  Throughout the morning we shared moments of our lives, how we would weave those colors and what the feelings were that we were communicating.  We talked about colors, shapes, lines. The discourse of art began to be woven into the weft in our stories.  The language of life, reflected well with the language of weaving and art.  The art process and weaving experience had a reason for being.  By lunch, she had woven about 4 or 5 inches on a 10 inch frame.  We had connected with the empowerment of art and sharing. 

When I returned 2 weeks later, she had a completed tapestry of joyful exploration, discovery…The beads had deflected from the horizontal and had become a strong, well placed diagonal.  Tufts of rya, rectangular sections, and swirls of open weft created caverns reflected in her painting.

Visit 3

On this, my third visit, the cohesion of our relationship was beginning to show.  One woman who had not wanted to participate in the first weaving session was back, ready to weave.  We shared our love of the yarn, the colors and textures scattered on the table.  When our friend arrived with her tapestry weaving, we lovingly appreciated her art.  We passed around the frame loom with tapestry still attached.  Many touched and admired the weaving and yarn. 

In this workshop, we talked about how some of us used to write in a journal when we were younger.  Some still do.  We talked about the secrets we would write.  “Today, let’s think about our ‘happinesses’….What gives us that Ah! of joy in our heart….do we have something right now? Is there something from childhood?”  Some pondered the question.  We went around the table.  “Well, I used to love to play bridge, but we have only 3 people here who play and we need a 4^th. Playing bridge gives me that happiness!” Our quilter and newly initiated tapestry weaver was next.  “So many things make me happy: painting, music, even playing bridge, too.” Oh! And connections were made.  One woman remembered playing jacks and jumping rope with her girl friends, someone else said she loved to play the piano….and then added, “Being alive makes me happy! I want to be alive.” For another woman it was the rag rugs her mother made. Another woman hooked rugs, and a conversation was ignited between the two. 

We then taped strips of cloth in front of each person.  They wrote their happiness and chose a colorful strip. Each person came and wove them into our community tapestry.  Conversations continued.  We had also began a community frame loom project and that, too, began making its way around the table.  One by one, weavers stepped up to the table loom to weave in their strips of cloth.  Somehow our conversation drifted back to the jump rope…Someone remembered the childhood jump rope chant, and bit by bit others chimed in phrases…laughter…joy !

One woman who thoughtfully contemplated what her happiness was continued to untangle threads.  When it came her time to weave the strips, she had carefully written, “untangling threads in a basket of yarn.”  She had found the frame loom cumbersome and tedious for her eyes.  She did not want to weave.  She was gently encouraged to at least bring her strips of cloth up to the loom.  As she stepped forward, I showed her how the treadles worked.  She smiled broadly, “Why the machine does all the work! You don’t even have to go over and under!” She enthusiastically wove in her happiness and colors.

As lunch time approached, we culminated our weaving and one by one the women departed.  Two of the artists stayed behind.  One wanted a frame loom to take back to their room as well. She generously offered to share it with her friend if she ever wanted to come and weave.  This was a wonderful process with so many possibilities.  The 3 of us chatted, lingering in the appreciation of each other’s gifts of enjoyment, art, life’s moments shared. A staff member had heard about our project and wanted to see.  As I unwound the cloth, she smiled, tears forming in her eyes. “This is beautiful!” she whispered.  As I continued to clean up, a few other staff members came in, They, too, teared up and exclaimed the wonder of what they viewed.  They thought it was the magic of the colors…Yes, but there was more.  I knew the secrets of the diary of the heart.  All the weavers I know, understand the experience, too.  Somehow, when we share, when we connect in weaving, art, truly engage with others …the happiness of our heart releases its fragrance.  In this magical moment of weaving and writing and sharing, we all experienced the healing and celebration of this very precious moment.

Many of our friends live only in the present moment, what is happening in the now of life.  We became witnesses to, stewards of healing in the moment.

For more on our experience with the Ballet Nouveau Colorado and our experiences, click onto www.arttherapyblog.com.