WEAVING
Iris Drouet
Please share a bit about yourself and your background.
I started out working as an architect in India, but eventually I quit my job and found myself drawn to the textile villages. There, I watched male craftsmen weaving and became fascinated by the way these families worked with threads. When I returned to Portugal, where I was living at the time, I sought out a master weaver to learn the craft. I had one particular piece in mind I wanted to create. It was a bit of a crazy idea because I spun all the wool myself, so I really worked from the very beginning.
At first, I didn’t set out to become a weaver, but as I learned, it became a huge investment of time. Weaving is not an easy craft to access. You need to master many techniques and have a variety of tools, since one thing leads to another. To make something finished well, you need a lot of equipment. Eventually, I found that I had acquired all the skills and techniques, and I realized I had become a weaver. So I decided to make it my profession. That was back in 2017.
Later, when I moved to Italy, I had the opportunity to study with master weaver Anna Silberschmidt. She taught me most of the skills I use today. I learned so much from her, and that education has shaped my work ever since.
What was the early motivation to express your creativity through weaving?
For me, weaving is very close to architecture. Both require planning. You have to design the project and draw every detail technically. It is a highly skilled job. The process is very similar. You want to create something, so you plan the materials, the design, everything. It felt familiar to me.
I also liked that weaving didn’t depend on so many people. In architecture, you rely on many people on a building site, and timing is a big factor. With weaving, I could manage the whole process myself, from start to finish, and make it happen on my own terms.
That ability to create something complete and concrete was very meaningful to me. The weaving itself is enjoyable because it requires high skill. It’s not easy, and once you start, you either commit to it or let it go. I’m not the most organized person, so this discipline felt important.
Can you share your thoughts on how your background in architecture has influenced your approach to weaving?
It definitely has an impact. My background shapes my aesthetic and the way I approach the final piece. I work on it like a graphic designer or architect, focusing on the structure—the repetitive elements that make the object beautiful. But I’m not interested in complex textile structures like a textile designer might be. I don’t know much about those and I’m not drawn to them.
Right now, I work with a simple loom with four shafts, which allows some variety in the weave. I’m not looking for complexity but rather for larger geometric forms. This is why I plan with drawings beforehand. I think this sets me apart from other textile artists. My work is more about abstract geometry expressed through textiles.
I also take commissions for functional pieces, like custom upholstery fabric for sofas or items designed to fit specific spaces. That is very interesting because you have limits and constraints, and you need to find the right way to work within them.
We know that you use a counterbalanced loom adapted for both rug weaving and fine linen light panels. Could you walk us through your creative process, from conceptualization to the final woven piece?
I actually have two looms. One is for heavy rugs, though I haven’t used it yet. It’s just waiting for the right moment. The other is a four-shaft counterbalance loom. It’s very adaptable and allows me to work on very light textiles as well. Usually, I work with warp-faced textiles, which tend to be heavy and dense. My focus is on geometrical compositions based on the warp rather than the weft. For example, weft weaving would be something like a kilim, which is more tapestry-like. My weaving is different from that.
As a weaver, the warp is essential. It’s not a plain white cotton warp where the whole project depends on the weft. For me, the whole piece is built into the warp. The design is already present in it and runs through the work. I created a series inspired by architectural facades, which I first translate into abstract drawings. Then I transform these drawings into weaving patterns for the four-shaft loom, all based on the warp. This requires a lot of preparation before the actual weaving begins, but once I start weaving, the process moves quickly.
I also incorporate visible weft in my work. In Nordic weaving traditions, the warp is dominant and visible, while in southern traditions, the weft shows and the warp is mostly hidden. I like to mix both approaches, which makes my technique quite unique compared to what you often see around.
That’s how I work and this is my signature technique. I have also made thin hemp panels, which are completely different. I may explore more techniques, but right now, this is the focus of my current series.
Explaining this work is difficult because it’s not abstract. It is very concrete and you really need to experience it to connect emotionally.
Handweaving, as you describe, balances rigorous planning with improvisation. How do you navigate this interplay between structure and spontaneity in your work?
When I work on samples, I usually allow myself to improvise. I try things out freely, and there is a lot of failure. Then I step back and let the work settle in my mind. After some time, I pick out what I find interesting. Even in highly planned work, there is a kind of visual intuition that comes into play. When you work on a piece, you often only see a small part, maybe 30 centimeters at a time. Because of this, I do not trust my eye completely in the moment. It’s like a painter working on geometric composition. I need to have the full design prepared in advance to guide me.
Still, small details happen spontaneously. If it is about adding a line of color or some subtle variation, I do that while weaving. Even when I follow a drawing strictly, the final piece always changes because I am very intuitive. The work evolves on the loom. I like to have a strong overall plan that gives me the big proportions, but while weaving, there is always a moment where I feel the need to add a warmer color or a small line.
It is a bit like music. You need a main structure and follow the sequence, but you can pause or emphasize some parts differently. The piece itself stays the same, but those moments of pause or accent bring it to life.
The name "Versi Linien" means "a variety of lines," capturing your idea of weaving as a story told through lines and colors. How does this philosophy come to life in your work?
For me, weaving is fundamentally linear and very rigorous in nature. Sometimes clients ask if I can create circular shapes, and I say no. That is more suited to tapestry, which is a completely different technique and world. Weaving, as I see it, is about the relationship between the warp and the weft, and how these two elements come together in composition.
I have tried working with a plain cotton warp, but I found it frustrating after a while. I need a balance between the strength and presence of the warp and the changes I create with the weft as I weave.
I find this interplay more interesting. I have tried to move away from it, but I always come back. I realize now that both the warp and the weft are essential to my work.
This means I explore different types of textiles. Some are lighter, while others are heavier and highlight the warp more. The lines themselves are very important to me.
When I chose the name Versi Linien, I wanted something that reflected the very nature of the craft and felt like a proper name. It speaks to the essence of weaving.
Where do you think the biggest potential lies for preserving important local crafts in the contemporary context?
The biggest potential lies in education, cultural value, and fair economic structures. In places like the UK, where there is a strong tradition of appreciating functional textiles, people are more willing to invest in them. Without that cultural foundation, it is hard to create a market for everyday handmade objects. So in many cases, craft becomes art because it is the only way to bring value and receive fair pay.
Preserving local crafts also means teaching people to see the skill involved and to distinguish quality. That kind of understanding cannot happen without exposure. Exhibitions, thoughtful dialogue, and proper training are essential. I often encourage people to study seriously and to respect the time it takes to learn.
Support from institutions matters too. In Sweden, for example, the state funds weavers even if they are not actively selling work. That kind of commitment gives dignity to the craft and helps it survive in a contemporary context.
What current projects excite you right now?
I’m preparing for an exhibition in October in Brussels It will be in a modern furniture shop owned by a couple who sell furniture from the masters of modern architecture.
They had empty walls, so I offered to create a background with my work. They were enthusiastic, and now they have a physical space in Brussels for exhibitions.
My idea is to reconnect with the spirit of the 30’s by translating the abstraction of early modernism into vivid, childlike primary colors and geometry. The exhibition will include three large pieces and some smaller works, so there will be options for different budgets.
I like that the show links to architects and designers. They have works by Alvar Aalto and also Swiss designers from the 1930s, which creates a unique atmosphere.
I also have in mind a project based on the Van Doesburg House near Paris, the foundation of De Stijl, that is still on paper.