Ravi Kiran
Handlooms are used for more than just saris. The gudar patti of Karnataka, woven mostly by women on a small loom, is one such example. The fabric’s width was 16 inches and the pieces of woven fabric were attached together with katri holigey or scissor stitch. The thick textile was used to cover freshly harvested ragi. A whole community was dedicated to weaving this because it had a purpose. When the cement factories came in, farmers switched to cement bags for covering their crops. Now, only a handful of artisans continue to weave the gudar patti. I know one family in Hebsur, near Hubballi, and have heard of a few in Belagavi.
Hemalatha Jain
I started reviving the patteda anchu in 2015 after I came into possession of a 250-year-old fabric sample. It was part of my PhD research. Since then I have attempted to revive over 23 cotton weaves. Some of them are the gomi teni, Molakalmuru and Hubli saris. All of them have a backstory.
In the 10th century, the patteda anchu was offered to the goddess Yellamma Saundatti, before being given to daughters for their wedding. Gomi teni saris were gifted to daughters or daughters-in-law when they conceived. They are named after the jowar-like motif on their border and were popular in the 12th century.
Now I am working on a sari called aane hejje from Anekal. It gets its name from its border which bears a design that resembles an elephant.
Pavithra Mudayya
I have been working with weavers for 50 years. I have come across numerous unique saris, which did not have names. Often I find myself giving them names for the sake of convenience. Sometimes I rely on the memories of weavers I work with to discover these forgotten weaves. My most interesting find was the Cubbonpete sari, which we recreated after an 80-year-old weaver recalled a sari his grandfather would weave. It is made from pure silk, with korvai and gandaberunda motifs.
The same way, I worked with the pastoral Kuruba community of Karagaon in Belagavi to revive the kambli, a woollen blanket. For the design intervention project that I undertook, it was woven with wool, silk and other waste fibres on an ancient loom, 10 metres at a time. I introduced these new softer fibres and fresh colours to make the traditionally black and coarse blanket more contemporary.
Geeta Patil
I have been reviving the Ilkal and khana fabrics. The indigenous ways in which these fabrics were made have been lost. The weft of the Ilkal was traditionally made with indigo dye, but now black or dark blue dyes are used. The khana fabric was made for blouses, and the blouse was often worn with Ilkal sari. So the two fabrics are connected. For the past four years, we have been using the khana weave to make saris.
There has been no support from the Karnataka government for handloom. Fifteen years ago, while working on a project with the government, I came across a village where the khana loom was being replaced with frame looms. Khana is an intricate and gorgeous fabric from Guledagudda and is woven on a pit loom. The government was devaluing this skilled weave by replacing it with frame looms to make plain fabric. I protested and was eventually moved to another weaving cluster. By the time I returned to reviving khana, so much had changed.