Ana Grajales

Please share a bit about yourselves.

I'm a Uruguayan Textile artist and Industrial designer, based in Mallorca. For me to create is to capture my unique way of seeing and feeling through shapes, colors and textures.

I create slowly, weaving pieces on a loom, giving new meaning to an ancestral craft. My work focuses mainly on experimentation with natural fibers, especially wool, using both Uruguayan and Mallorcan wool, seeking the fusion of both identities. I also experiment through sculpture, light and writing, fusing various media and materials in the quest to build my own experiential universe.

What first drew you to wool and textile art, and how did these mediums become central to your creative expression?

My story with wool, I always say, comes from another life. In this one, it found me almost by accident. My first encounter with wool and textile art came from a personal decorative pursuit; I wanted a tapestry for my room but couldn’t find anyone who made one in my style, so I decided to make it myself. That’s how I set up my first loom with things I had at home, bought some wool, and started weaving by watching videos.
Once I began, I could never stop. I lost myself in the wool, in the textures, and in the meditative act of weaving. What I didn’t know at the time was that wool and weaving would become a portal for truly getting to know myself — and for finding a deeper, more authentic version of who I am.This practice allowed me to dream without limits, to believe in myself, and it became (and still is) my excuse to bring out parts of me that had been hidden.

As an industrial designer, are there aspects of your training or experience that you find influencing or integrated into your current textile practice?

Yes, I believe being an industrial designer is the backbone of my practice.
Although during my studies I never had a direct connection with weaving or wool, the search for textures, forms, and design structure definitely comes from that training.
I worked as a graphic designer my whole life, and through that practice I discovered a visual world beyond the computer — a place where I could truly express myself. In the end, I think this blend of experiences over more than ten years is reflected in what has now become my artistic language: in the structure, the textures, my exploration of more three-dimensional forms, lighting pieces, and so on.

Could you tell us how your journey as an artist evolved, and what inspired your move from Uruguay to Mallorca?

My decision to move from Uruguay to Mallorca came from a vacation I took on the island about four years ago.
Although I had always dreamed of living in Spain — since much of my family is from here — it was always a desire that fear managed to silence. When I first set foot on the island, I fell in love with the place; something within me shifted, and I felt that this was what I wanted every day of my life. When I went back to Uruguay, I couldn’t shake that feeling — it had turned into certainty.
At that time, I had already been exploring the world of textile art for about five years, but I was doing it alongside my work as a graphic designer. I needed to see what would happen with my practice outside the environment I was in — to find out whether I could turn it into my way of life.
I felt comfortable, but in some way stuck in my practice. I had everything that was “socially right,” yet there was something inside me that wanted — and knew — there was more. So I decided to take the leap, and it was the best decision I’ve ever made.
Although it was, and still is, very challenging on many levels, my artistic language changed completely — because I changed completely. Now I feel much more aligned with that desire I’ve always had, the one I tried to silence for so long. Without a doubt, that part of me that felt contained in Uruguay has found a way to come to light here in Spain, through what I create.
Starting to work with local wool also helped transform my expression. I believe that the blend of both wools — Uruguayan and Spanish — gives my work a unique language. That mix of roots helps me heal and express my own journey and experience. And the most beautiful part is that it’s only just beginning.

Can you take us through your process? Do you have any particular rituals that help you dive into it with greater ease and foster a more natural flow?

To be honest, I try to ritualize my everyday life. There are certain practices that undoubtedly support my process, and I always try to keep them present — though I can’t always do so. I believe that living in the Mediterranean, surrounded by so much nature and beauty, affects me deeply and inspires me, often in ways I’m not even conscious of.
Capturing moments of daily life and the visual details that draw my attention with my camera ends up becoming a kind of visual diary I build over time, where everything starts to blend within me. Writing is also a fundamental part of my process — when I manage to express what’s inside me through words, I feel it’s the moment right before a piece is born. It’s something that’s been growing within me for months, even years, and when I finally put it into words, that’s when I can bring it into the physical form of a piece.
Silence, for me, is also essential. I’m a person of silence — I need calm to make space. Meditation undoubtedly helps me quiet the thousands of ideas constantly running through my mind, though it’s true that I don’t always manage to keep the practice consistent.

When it comes to the tactile aspects of your work and their connection to your body, how does the hands-on nature impact your overall happiness and well-being?

My work ends up being an extension of my inner world, and my hands are the medium — the tool that helps me bring that world into the outside one. For me, wool is healing, and weaving is a meditative act. In the process, anything I do with my hands — whether it’s weaving, molding, or drawing — gives me the silence I need. It pauses my mind, quiets the external noise and stimuli, and I lose myself in it.
If I had to describe that state, for me it would be like floating in the sea — that same peace, surrender, and silence.
I’ve always been a very visual person, and I’m deeply affected by what surrounds me — color palettes, order, harmony. The fact that I can create my own visual world brings me immense pleasure and calm; it fills me with a constant sense of happiness.

Looking at the contemporary craft landscape, where do you see the greatest opportunities for preserving and reinterpreting important ancestral textile techniques?

I believe that today, more than ever, working through ancestral practices and techniques is an almost revolutionary act. It requires commitment — it’s not an easy path — but it’s deeply rewarding, at least for me. I think the true opportunity today lies in our ability to reinterpret and create a new dialogue between tradition and contemporary experience.

In recent times, I do feel there’s been a shift — a renewed appreciation for handmade processes, traditions, natural materials, and for the stories behind each piece. But I also think there’s still a long way to go. And as with everything that becomes somewhat “trendy,” there are positive aspects and others that are not so much. While I sense there’s greater visibility now and that people are integrating these values more into their lives, I still feel there’s a long journey ahead toward truly valuing and understanding the process and the countless hours of work behind each creation.

Still, I believe the key lies precisely in reinterpretation and in integration — with other disciplines, with contemporary art, with architecture, with sustainability. It’s within that intersection that a new, living language emerges — one that continues to evolve over time, sustained by what is ancestral.

Are there any new projects, themes, or directions you are currently exploring that feel particularly connected to your practice?

Currently, I’m experimenting a lot with three-dimensional work, and sculpture has always deeply captured my attention.
I’m exploring it through fiber — seeing how I can adapt it to new formats that go beyond the traditional — and also through ceramics, finding ways to fuse these materials so that they become part of my world.

How can people engage more closely with your work, whether through your pieces, exhibitions, or online presence?

I believe all of these channels are important. Undoubtedly, my online presence — especially through Instagram — plays a key role, as it’s where people can see more of my processes, my explorations, and my daily life. I also share the story behind each piece there. On my website, people can get a more general view of my series and artistic language, as well as learn a bit about my story.
Exhibitions offer more intimate encounters, where every detail, every tone, can truly be seen and felt. They allow people to interact directly with the work, and each exhibition creates entirely different worlds and atmospheres.
Through my Substack account, where I share my writings, people can also engage with my work. Often, the story begins there and then evolves into a new series.

Photo [1, 2] byTina Garcia, [8] by Naty Burjel, [9, 10,] Sebastian Pereyra, and the rest belong to Ana.