Making motherhood: how Rezia Wahid weaves art and life together

What inspired you to tackle the topics of pregnancy and motherhood in the Crafts Study Centre's exhibition Dancing in the Womb?

My work as a weaver has always been about technique and history of art weaving – I never thought my practise would become so personal. It was only in lockdown, when I was in the studio with all four of my children, that I realised how much being pregnant and being a mother has been an integral part of my weaving. So this was a natural direction for me to take.

This show comes following a decade of raising your family. How did you find this return to weaving?

I felt I had a subject that needed to be discussed. It seemed that I had become invisible to the world – there’s an assumption that if you’re raising children, you’re not also producing quality work as an artist. I had several solo shows before having my first child, but after that it all went quiet: I wasn’t being approached for shows, or to do projects, or to meet curators and galleries.

In lockdown, I realised I wanted to help people through the craft of weaving, so that's how I came back to the artworld again. Also, I made a promise to Simon Olding – the director of the Crafts Study Centre, who passed away recently – that I would carry on. It was Simon who gave me the strength to go back into the world.

Above: Rezia Wahid weaving at her loom. Photo: Paul Tucker

Tell me more about this desire to help people.

Weaving is therapeutic. I began running wellbeing-focused online workshops and started giving out weaving packs and yarns in my local area; word got around, and I also began making craft packs for the Barbican’s more elderly visitors. I feel there’s an absence of working with our hands in our lives, and we should do what we can to support mental health. Making art is not the only responsibility for an artist.

What are the stories behind the abstract pieces in Dancing in the Womb?

There are six long, woven lengths on show – the largest is seven metres long. The first piece I made is connected to being pregnant with my daughter. I was extremely sick: bed-ridden for three months, and almost hospitalised. I couldn’t stomach food or fluids, and the only thing that gave me any comfort was the smell and taste of lavender. I wrote and collected ideas, and knew that one day I would make something about it.

I dyed yarns in lilac and used a translucent gummed silk yarn that’s almost invisible to the eye; this water-like transparency reflects the idea of the baby floating in inner waters. During pregnancy, I could feel my daughter’s elbow poking at me – I reflected this through raised embroidery, using the French knot technique.

Elsewhere, the lavender changes into greens. This connects to the time when I damaged a nerve while giving birth to my son: I was unable to walk for six months, and I had dreams of running through green fields with him. Then there’s an area of soothing blues, which are connected to my third child, who was always very calm. Finally, there’s reds: these connect to the idea in Greek mythology, of the red thread of our fates.

How did you create these pieces?

I use plain weave, which I feel gives me an artistic canvas on the loom. I discovered the Bangladeshi jamdani technique, which we would term here as ‘extra weft’. I use a lot of extra weft on my countermarch loom, which gives me great freedom with colour: I have many bobbins to use whenever I like, and can change things up as I go along. Historically, jamdani has been used for making geometric patterns, but my pieces are fluid – full of rhythm and movement.

In Hettie Judah's recent book, How Not to Exclude Artist Mothers (And Other Parents), she argues that the art world needs to better support parents and carers. What do you think could be done to make craft more inclusive for people with children?

If you’re an employee working in an office, you get maternity leave. But if you’re an artist working with various galleries and institutions, there isn’t that same support. Consider childcare costs when working with artists and try to have financial leeway to help cover this.

Be aware that artists have personal lives, and think about that when you consider, say, timings. A symposium I recently attended clashed with school pick-up time, for instance. Simple awareness around what the artist is juggling goes a long way.

See Dancing in the Womb at the Crafts Study Centre in Farnham from 10 January to May 13 2023