Unraveling Threads of Red The Value of Raveled Yarn Beyond Aesthetics

Emily Wormley Felix

ARTH 796f | Fall 2014

Unraveling Threads of Red: The Value of Raveled Yarn Beyond Aesthetics

Emily Wormley Felix | M.A. Fibers | ARTH 796f Fall 2014

Raveling, unraveling, unpicking, and unweaving are all words to describe the same action of pulling threads out of a woven cloth. Throughout history, there are many examples of groups of people ravelling yarn and using it to reweave into new cloth or garments.1 Such a task is laborious and time consuming, leading one to wonder just what reasons a community might have for devoting themselves to the act. The image of an individual meticulously unraveling red thread is fundamentally powerful especially when you consider the implication that it is an abstract way of correcting their cultural identity within the rule of another culture.

To use this raveled yarn is to recontextualize these threads into something new. In cultures under colonial rule, particularly African and Southwestern Native American communities, unweaving the red threads of an already assembled cloth from another country allowed these cultures to truly speak about themselves.

In this paper I am attempting to discover the significance of raveling imported red cloth in particular. Two separate cultures on opposite sides of the planet - the Navajo in the United

States and many small South African communities - developed unpicking technology independently, but for many of the same reasons. I will explore their motivations by first establishing the trade that allowed, and even encouraged, this development. I then consider the significance of how trade impacted the cultural exchanges between communities of people, the many different values of imported cloth, and subsequently the role of the fabrics made from the raveled red yarn. Last, I consider the underlying notes of defiance and rebellion inherent in the act, taking into consideration those cultures under colonial rule.

1 ​Jessica Hemmings, "Appropriated Threads: The Unpicking and Reweaving Imported Textiles," in ​Silk Roads, Other Roads: Proceedings of the 8th Biennial Symposium of the Textile Society of America,​ Session 16 (Northampton: Textile Society of America, 2003), 119. 1 In mythology and legends from oral cultures there are a few examples of individuals - always women - raveling yarn. Penelope from Homer’s ​Odyssey ​was a young woman weaving a burial shroud (see fig. 1). Her husband, Odysseus, was away in the Trojan War for twenty years, and during that time she was faced with many suitors - a selection that she didn’t want to make. So she said she would choose one when she finished the cloth, and unpicked each day’s weaving every night to keep this from happening.2 The Native American legend of the old woman and black dog in a cave describes the woman weaving a rug from pine needles she finds in the woods. When she gets up to stir her soup, her black dog rips out any progress she made. She then starts her weaving all over again. The legend states that this has been going on forever.3

What these two examples reveal is the relationship between weaving and time.

Penelope’s unraveling of her weaving essentially stops time.4 The old woman and her dog can be looked at as a creation story, or a larger cycle. If the black dog ever stops undoing her work and she finishes her garment, time will stop. It is her act of weaving which keeps time going.5

The association between time and weaving isn’t too much of a stretch when one considers the time it takes to properly set up a loom and weave a cloth. Weaving is far more important beyond surface value in cultures throughout South America as well as around the world. Many even link the act of weaving with their entire cosmological worldview.6 That said, it’s not difficult to understand why an individual or entire community would want to spend the

2 ​Jessica Hemmings, "Raveled Yarns and Other Revelations in Navajo Blankets," ​Fiberarts, ​(Jan. - Feb. 2004), 11. 3 ​Vincent P. Ward, "The Old Woman in the Cave: How Trouble Becomes Transformation," http://www.vwardphd.com/TheStoryofChange.en.html (accessed October 14, 2014). 4 Hemmings, 119. 5 ​Vincent P. Ward, "The Old Woman in the Cave: How Trouble Becomes Transformation," http://www.vwardphd.com/TheStoryofChange.en.html (accessed October 14, 2014). 6 ​Jane Rehl, “Weaving Metaphors: Beyond the Image” (Lecture, Savannah College of Art and Design, Savannah, GA, Fall 2014). 2 time to unravel an already woven cloth, to then use the threads to make their own designed fabric. The significance can go much deeper beyond the physical act.

Locations around the world that developed unweaving of cloth always did so as a result of access to imported goods. Therefore, even though these cultures may have been so dissimilar in nearly every aspect of their day-to-day lives, the necessity of cloth as a basic human need led them to develop strikingly similar techniques. What’s more, goods and services aren’t the only by-product of the development of transportation between locations.

The sharing of knowledge is yet another important side effect that could have influenced the rise of unweaving thread from cloth around the world.

Unraveling Around the World

It is believed that as early as 400 BC on the Island of Cos in Ancient Greece, a woman named Pamphila unraveled heavy silk from China and rewove it to understand how it was made.7 The city of Palmyra in Ancient Syria had a reputation for unraveling imported silk. The

silk threads were then rewoven to suit their local style.8 The Moors in Africa would purchase blue dyed cloth from Cambay to weave with their hand spun white cotton to sell for gold. 9 By the 12th century, Europeans were unpicking and reweaving Chinese silk products to weave into their own European silk.10

In the United States, slaves would pull the threads out of their owners’ discarded stockings and fabric remnants to wrap around their heads.11 During the Roman Empire, upper

7 Ibid. 8 Mildred Constantine and Laurel Reuter, ​Whole Cloth ​(New York: Monacelli Press, 1997), 24. 9 ​Jessica Hemmings, "Appropriated Threads: The Unpicking and Reweaving Imported Textiles," in ​Silk Roads, Other Roads: Proceedings of the 8th Biennial Symposium of the Textile Society of America,​ Session 16 (Northampton: Textile Society of America, 2003), 119. 10 ​Genevieve Chin and Sindhu Mommaneni, “The Silk Industry in Japan in the 1800s,” Student Papers from History of Science 211, http://www.smith.edu/hsc/silk/papers/chin.html (accessed October 14, 2014). 11 Hemmings, 119. 3 class Roman women purchased Chinese silks to have them unwound, the thread then used to weave revealing gauze or beautiful tapestries.12

In Africa, there are many documented examples of raveled yarns being used to weave special cloth for ritual use and to mark distinctions between classes of people. Centuries old

West African weavers would take imported European and Asian fabric apart thread by thread.

Although silk is documented as being imported to Africa in the mid-18th century, it may have been there as early as the 16th century.13 The unraveled yarn was mostly used to make colorful strip-woven textiles like the ​Kente ​cloth of the Asante (see fig. 2) and Ewe, and the

Bunu Yoruba ​Aso Ipo,​ sometimes called ​Aso Oke.​ These cloths were generally regarded as prized heirlooms.

A 1730 Danish envoy to Africa noted the Opoku purchased silk taffeta and fabric of all colors to unravel and mix with their indigenous cotton. They would then get colorful fabric of their own.14 The Asante of Ghana have likely been unraveling silk cloth since the 17th century.

They would incorporate the imported threads to weave their own colorful textiles, which came from places like Italy and India.15 They first used imported silk as weft yarn, but as it became more available they would occasionally use it for the warp. By purchasing the European pre-dyed silk cloth, they weren’t just limited to blue and white anymore. They could now incorporate light blue, red, yellow, black, and green into their cloth designs (see fig. 3), which increased the value of the cloth as well.16 A 1817 British envoy to Africa wrote that the chiefs were “in a general blaze of splendor,” demonstrating the special color and material of the cloth woven from the raveled silk threads that helped them visually stand out from the rest of the

12 Mildred Constantine and Laurel Reuter, ​Whole Cloth ​(New York: Monacelli Press, 1997), 24. 13 Hemmings, 121. 14 Hemmings, 119. 15 John Picton and John Mack, ​African Textiles: Looms, Weaving and Design ​(London: published for the Trustees of the British Museum by the British Museum, 1989), 29. 16 Hemmings, 121. 4 community.17 Before silk, the Asante and other neighboring cultures were mainly known for their blue and white woven cotton cloth.18

The Ewe of Africa were neighbors with the Asante but were less economically dominant. While both communities began weaving with their native white and blue dyed cotton, they also began using imported cloth once it was available by trade. The Ewe are accused of appropriating the inlay technique of the Asante, although instead of silk the Ewe were using imported cotton because the cost was much lower. Authors Adler and Bernard describe in their book, ​African Majesty: The Textile Art of the Ashanti and Ewe:​ the “Ewe

desired to mimic the colour of their court, and without the means to import silks, developed a

sophisticated expression with cotton.”19 They wove dense blankets from this cotton dyed in

red and yellow, which likely came from Europe and India.20

The Awkete of Nigeria have a legend about the origin of their unique Akwete cloth.

The legend describes a legendary weaver, Dada Nwakwata, who designed cloth pattern in

her dreams. Upon waking, she would unravel imported European silk to make her cloth, but

would work in secret to keep others from seeing how she did it. 21 She did let her deaf and

mute neighbor see what she was doing, and her neighbor eventually communicated with

others how the process was being done. This is also a story about the passing on of oral

tradition, by communicating not with words, but with showing the movements and gestures of

her weaving.22

17 Ibid., 119. 18 Ibid., 120. 19 Ibid., 121-122. 20 Ibid., 121. 21 Ibid., 120 22 Sónia Silva “Creativity Revisited: Narration and Embodiment in African Art,” Museum Anthropology Review, http://scholarworks.iu.edu/journals/index.php/mar/article/view/1236/2033 (accessed November 2, 2014). 5 The Kalabari women of Nigeria would buy patterned fabric from India for unpicking as well. They would cut and take out the tiny threads to make new designs from the abstracted cloth. These textiles, called ​pelete bite,​ are unique in that they are not complete recontextualizations of the imported cloth. Instead of taking the fabric apart entirely, they would use it as a structure from which to build. They still create and wear these textiles today.

23

Allada, a coastal port town in the country of Benin, was a kingdom heavily based on trade due to their location. Allada woven cloths were praised and traded throughout Africa for their colorful, brocaded images. An Allada cloth given to a Royal African Company factory in

Apa in 1682 was described as being made from the thread of wool cloth from Britain. In

1660, a German merchant called Allada cloth “multicolored.” The picture these descriptions paint is one of brocade in impressive color, not batik or painted cloth. Thus, even though we don’t have an image of this Allada cloth, we can assume it was at least partially made from imported and unraveled European wool.24

Another community in Benin, the Búnú Yoruba, would unravel red wool cloth to use in elaborate brocade as well. They called this cloth ​Aso Ipo,​ which literally means “cloth from red cloth.”25 During the later British colonial period, Búnú weavers got the red wool from unraveling woven from hospital blankets, due to the difficulty of producing red dye in the right saturation.26 ​Aso Ipo was​ woven by both men and women, and as a cloth is interesting

because of its bold geometric patterns and thickness due to being a double sided, with a red

and tan pattern on one side and solid white on the other (see fig. 4). It has significant ritual

23 ​Mildred Constantine and Laurel Reuter, ​Whole Cloth ​(New York: Monacelli Press, 1997), 24. 24 ​Colleen E. Kriger, ​Cloth in West African History ​(Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2006), 37. 25 ​Colleen E. Kriger, “Mapping the History of Cotton Textile Production in Precolonial West Africa,” In ​African Economic History ​33 (2005), 107. 26 ​Elisha P. Renne, “Aso Ipo, Red Cloth from Bunu,” ​African Arts ​25, no. 3 (1992), 66. 6 importance, likely because of these traits.27 The Bunu Yoruba were west of the Niger River, which makes it plausible that they had easier access to the red cloth.28

On the other side of the world, in the Southwestern United States, the Native

American communities developed their own version of raveled yarn textiles which came to be very well known. The colonial-era nomadic Navajo wove prolifically and with an enthusiasm that was reported in Spanish journals. Their blankets became famous for technical quality, strength, and beauty.29 The Navajo, along with the Pueblo, would import red flannel called bayeta.​ The Pueblo also used raveled yarn occasionally, but not as commonly as the Navajo.

30 Occasionally the Navajo would adopt Pueblo techniques of weaving cotton blankets and mantas, as well as traditional Pueblo styles, to trade back with the Pueblo for ​bayeta.​31

It is unknown when the Southwestern weavers raveled ​bayeta ​for the first time. There is a “patchwork cloak” dated around 1750 by fiber and dye analysis (see figure 5). The use of raveled yarn was verified for this cloak, and to date is the earliest known example of the technique in in the region.32 Historical evidence proves that the Navajo were using raveled yarn in the year 1788. The yarn was used to border a dress in red. It is known that at the time they did not have access to red dye. This ​bayeta ​likely made its way to them from the

Spanish.33

Studies of these Navajo blankets made with raveled yarn can be made more comprehensive by analyzing the twist direction, ply, dye source, type of wool, yarn thickness,

27 Ibid., 64 28 Ibid., 66 29 ​Casey Reed, “Raveled Yarn in Navajo Textiles,” Material Insight, http://material-insight.com/RaveledYarn.htm, (accessed October 21, 2014). 30 ​Joe Ben Wheat, ​Blanket Weaving in the Southwest ​(Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2003), 4. 31 ​Casey Reed, “Raveled Yarn in Navajo Textiles,” Material Insight, http://material-insight.com/RaveledYarn.htm, (accessed October 21, 2014). 32 Joe Ben Wheat, ​Blanket Weaving in the Southwest ​(Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2003), 80. 33 Ibid., 74. 7 and speckling of the dye (which can indicate the dyeing process, such as whether or not the yarn was dyed before weaving or the cloth was dyed after weaving).34

The Significance of Trade for Cloth and Cultural Exchange

The establishment of trade around the world as early as the 11th century had an enormous impact on the cultural exchanges between communities of people separated by large masses of land and ocean. In addition, imperial invasion and colonial rule enhanced trade in a way that smaller and more remote communities’ access to imported cloth and different weaving technologies.

One of the first major land trade routes for textile-related products was the Silk Road, which became a method of transportation around the 1st century. It ran from the Eastern side of China through India and Arabia.35 Along with the trade of silk goods was the spread of knowledge and what Jessica Hemmings calls “cultural exchange.”36 Japan, a major supplier of silk in the 17th and 18th centuries, was closed to trade with the West because of the fear of insurgence of Christianity, however in 1853 an American demanded the establishment of trade relations and Japan eventually gave in. As silk trade from Japan opened trade with the

West in the mid-19th century, demand became strong and the West was willing to pay very high prices. The result was an eventual decline in the quality of the silk being produced as resources were stretched to accommodate the demand.37

34 ​Jessica Hemmings, "Raveled Yarns and Other Revelations in Navajo Blankets," Fiberarts, (Jan. - Feb. 2004), 11. 35 Oliver Wild, “The Silk Road,” Dr. Oliver Wild: Research Scientist, http://www.ess.uci.edu/~oliver/silk.html, (accessed November 3, 2014). 36 ​Jessica Hemmings, "Appropriated Threads: The Unpicking and Reweaving Imported Textiles," in ​Silk Roads, Other Roads: Proceedings of the 8th Biennial Symposium of the Textile Society of America,​ Session 16 (Northampton: Textile Society of America, 2003), 119. 37 ​Genevieve Chin and Sindhu Mommaneni, “The Silk Industry in Japan in the 1800s,” Student Papers from History of Science 211, http://www.smith.edu/hsc/silk/papers/chin.html (accessed October 14, 2014). 8 Prior to colonization and increased access to traded goods in Africa, cotton fiber, thread and woven textiles were the most widely made and exchanged cloth in West Africa.

The most common colors were white and blue, the blue dye coming from the native Indigo plant.38 Bantans, which were cloths woven with cotton spun with fine, wild silk fibers unspinnable on their own, were also made, which bore a resemblance to silk. These cloths were highly valued in early African trade across the region.39

Cloth trade between East Africa and Western India began as early as the 11th century.

40 The coasts of Africa became trade hubs, where African commodities like ivory, wood, minerals, gems, and even slaves were exchanged for manufactured products from the ships coming in from the Persian Gulf.41 Trade between Europe, India and Africa allowed communities near the coast like the Akwete to have access to weaving, dyeing and spinning techniques from many other cultures to inform their own technological and aesthetic development.42

The Southern peoples of Africa came to rely on imported cloth as a result. For example, in the 16th century, East Africa was dependent on cloth from Khambhat (also known as Cambay). A Portuguese author who visited the region said, “All this coast dresses in these cloth and has no others.”43 Around the same time, in 1582, a trader’s list of merchandise to

Nigeria included “coarse red cloth.” It could have reached the Búnú people through Benin and

Northeast Yoruba, or by transport across the Niger River. It could also have been obtained

38 ​Colleen E. Kriger, “Mapping the History of Cotton Textile Production in Precolonial West Africa,” ​African Economic History ​33 (2005), 98-99. 39 Ibid., 99. 40 Mark Horton, “Artisans, Communities, and Commodities: Medieval Exchanges between Northwestern India and East Africa,” ​Ars Orientalis ​34 (2004): 63. 41 Horton, 63. 42 Hemmings, 122. 43 Horton, 67. 9 from the Idah, from a red cloth said to have been called ​ukpo but​ which was likely imported as

well.44

Merchant documents from the late 17th century reflect that the Africans would request

quite large amounts of trade items from the Guinea coast including cotton, wool, and silk

textiles of varying types, to be carried in by Dutch ships. Of note was red wool, called “scarlet

cloth” and sometimes “red perpetuanas” on the documents.45

From looking at the many examples of trade documents from the region and the types

of cloth being purchased, we can deduce just what kind of demand existed for certain

imported cloths. In the words of Colleen E. Kriger, “These examples of change and

differentiation in West African consumer preferences, and the fact that people were buying

textiles for a variety of purposes, complicate and enrich our picture of precolonial commodity

markets and the people who created them.”46

What were all these imported textiles being used for? Most of the documentation

points to the idea that the imported cloths were prized for their unique qualities of color and

material. The variety and saturation of color inherent in imported textiles was not common in

Africa. For example, it was noted in the journal of Francisco de Almeida during the Seventh

Portuguese India Armada in 1506 that the rulers of Mogadishu wore elaborate clothes made

from imported materials like silk and Egyptian linen.47 The red cloths that made it to Búnú

were raveled for use in ​Aso Ipo ​cloth, which was used in ceremonial rituals and reserved for

those who held political power.48

44 ​Elisha P. Renne, “Aso Ipo, Red Cloth from Bunu,” ​African Arts ​25, no. 3 (1992): 66. 45 ​Colleen E. Kriger, ​Cloth in West African History ​(Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2006), 36-38. 46 ​Colleen E. Kriger, “Mapping the History of Cotton Textile Production in Precolonial West Africa,” ​African Economic History ​33 (2005), 108. 47 Horton, 68. 48 ​Jessica Hemmings, "Appropriated Threads: The Unpicking and Reweaving Imported Textiles," in ​Silk Roads, Other Roads: Proceedings of the 8th Biennial Symposium of the Textile Society of America,​ Session 16 (Northampton: Textile Society of America, 2003), 121. 10 When Western powers began to take over West Africa, the local weaving industry began to thrive as trade of textiles flourished in exchange for slaves and other resources.

This influx of cloth trade enhanced access to the textiles of many different cultures, including the Portuguese, Spanish, English, Dutch, and French.49 It can be assumed that because of their exposure to the weaving technologies and colors of such a variety of cultures, there was influence that bore the unraveling of European cotton, rayon and Asian silk, which led to the colorful strip-weaving of Asante and Ewe ​Kente cloth, so​ different from their usual white and blue cotton textiles.50 Again, these were not everyday textiles. The handmade ​Kente ​was

prized and regarded as an heirloom.51

In the later 20th century, the red wool cloth became much more difficult to obtain. As a

result, the demand for ​Aso Ipo ​declined because the cloth was too expensive. Other reasons

include social and religious changes which altered the way these once special textiles were

viewed, and thus their perceived significance in the culture.52

In the United States, trade and cultural relationships were a significant aspect of the

development of textile designs. The Navajo were especially dependent on the ​bayeta ​and

quickly adapted to the rapid pace of a changing cloth trade landscape. At the peak of

production for their famous Navajo blankets, there was a thriving trade of imported textiles in

the area. This can tell us a lot about the curiosity, adaptability and creativity of the Navajo at

the time.53 In fact, their raveled wool blankets eventually became most known as “trade

blankets,” not just because they were traded for other goods, but likely also because the

origins of the blankets themselves relied on trade.

49 ​Esi Dogbe, “Unraveled Yarns: Dress, Consumption, and Women’s Bodies in Ghanaian Culture,” ​Fashion Theory: The Journal of Dress, Body and Culture ​7, no. 3 (2003): ​382. 50 ​Ibid. 51 Ibid. 52 ​Elisha P. Renne, “Aso Ipo, Red Cloth from Bunu,” ​African Arts ​25, no. 3 (1992): 66. 53 ​Jessica Hemmings, "Raveled Yarns and Other Revelations in Navajo Blankets," Fiberarts, (Jan. - Feb. 2004), 11. 11 The history of raveling red flannel in the United States as we know it begins around

1540. Fabrics were brought into the Southwestern United States from Coronado’s​ Entrada.​

Only a few of the cloths they brought could be properly raveled. Patterned, multicolored cloths would not provide lengths of yarn long enough in one color. Undyed selvages were also a hindrance to a long length of one color. Only open weave, solid colors like the bolts of wool flannel fabric could be easily unraveled.54 This fabric, as noted earlier in this paper, called bayeta or​ ​ baize,​ soon became their preferred source of red color.55

Trade from Mexican cities that imported this cloth made the new color more available

to the Navajo and neighboring peoples. The cochineal dye came from Spain’s newly

conquered colonies in Mexico and South America. It was sent to Europe where it was used to

dye wool during the 18th and 19th centuries. The Europeans also acquired Lac from India to

dye wool red as well.56 The wool would then be traded with Spain and brought to the Pueblo

and Navajo from Mexico.57 Versions of ​bayeta ​were also manufactured in France, Spain,

England, the Netherlands, throughout Europe, and a similar cloth from Turkey called ​alepín

(made from silk and wool, which is easily raveled) was imported to Mexico and then the

Southwest in the 1800s.58

By the end of the 19th century, the East Coast of the United States began replicating

European textile mills and using natural red dyes to dye their own wool. The U.S. mills would

then ship their cloth and other products via the Santa Fe trail, and later by rail when the

railroad was built in 1880 that serviced New Mexico. At first the Navajo used it as a

54 Joe Ben Wheat, ​Blanket Weaving in the Southwest ​(Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2003), 69. 55 ​Casey Reed, “Raveled Yarn in Navajo Textiles,” Material Insight, http://material-insight.com/RaveledYarn.htm, (accessed October 21, 2014). 56 Ibid. 57 ​Jessica Hemmings, "Appropriated Threads: The Unpicking and Reweaving Imported Textiles," in ​Silk Roads, Other Roads: Proceedings of the 8th Biennial Symposium of the Textile Society of America,​ Session 16 (Northampton: Textile Society of America, 2003), 120. 58 Wheat, 71. 12 supplement to Mexican trade ​bayeta,​ but eventually the U.S.-made textiles displaced the

Mexican trade entirely. Not only were the Southwestern communities being shipped U.S.

made cloth, but red cloth from many other different parts of the world was also shipped to the

Eastern United States and traded along with the cloth manufactured there.59

It is argued that the Eastern mills of the U.S. were the best source of ​bayeta ​for the

Navajo because these mills hired immigrant European dyers who had mastered the process.

They had also replicated the European mills.60 However, as noted above, the Eastern ​bayeta was also combined with imported red fabric from other countries, so it’s difficult to say since there were so many varying qualities available.

By the 19th century, ​bayeta ​was the main textile product in New Mexico. There is little documentation in the form of invoices or journal entries about the exact nature of cloth trade with either the U.S., European or Mexican textile mills. Now almost 100 years later, we can only look at literature based on interviews done by researchers in the 1930s like Charles

Avery Amsden and Gladys A. Reichard.61

It’s likely that Navajo weavers had saved yarn from past trade and continued to use the Mexican and European yarn mixed into the newer supply. It’s also possible that traders had bolts of both lac and cochineal-dyed flannel next to synthetic dyed flannel, and all varieties were sold to the Navajo at the same time, providing a mixture of many different types of red wool yarn.62

Once raveled, the Navajo would often ply two strands of the yarn together before weaving. They would utilize the inherent directions of the S- and Z-spun factory yarn for

59 ​Casey Reed, “Raveled Yarn in Navajo Textiles,” Material Insight, http://material-insight.com/RaveledYarn.htm, (accessed October 21, 2014). 60 Ibid. 61 Ibid. 62 ​Casey Reed, “Navajo Textile Certification Dye and Fiber Analysis,” Material Insight, http://material-insight.com/NavajoBlanket.htm (accessed October 21, 2014). 13 plying together, the spinning direction of the yarn invariably determined by the various sources from which the ​bayeta ​came (see figs. 6 and 7).63 This process was repeated for use

in Navajo blankets for well over 100 years.64

It is likely that the yarns were plied not only for strength or in preference for yarn size

in their weaving, but also because the many different types of ​bayeta ​fabric yield many

different shades and thicknesses of yarn.65 This might be the exact reason to ply the yarn - to

get a more consistent size across one textile. There is much to learn just from investigating

the dye sources, yarn, and fibers.66 To our benefit, analysis of these plied yarns can contribute

to knowledge about trade route history and manufacturing processes. Therefore, scientific

analysis is the necessary first step in figuring out the exact origin of the red wool cloth used in

a Navajo textile. For example, some tested yarns are found to contain wood that is only grown

in Indonesia, traded in Europe by the Dutch, then imported to the Navajo via the U.S. or

Mexico67 Another example is that of tracking time. Since synthetic dye was developed in the

mid-19th century, much later than natural dye was discovered, the oldest possible creation

date of a cloth can be analyzed by the date of the patent for the particular synthetic dye.68

By testing the dyes and materials found in these raveled yarns, we can have a look

into trade routes and connections between peoples. Furthermore, it gives us valuable insight

into the relationships between families across time, such as when the yarn from cochineal

dyed wool is plied with yarn dyed with a newer synthetic dye. According to Casey Reed, “The

possibilities become researchable and open doors of cultural and historical insight as the data

63 Casey Reed, “Raveled Yarn in Navajo Textiles,” Material Insight, http://material-insight.com/RaveledYarn.htm, (accessed October 21, 2014). 64 Joe Ben Wheat, ​Blanket Weaving in the Southwest ​(Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2003), 69. 65 Ibid., 87. 66 Reed. 67 ​Casey Reed, “Navajo Textile Certification Dye and Fiber Analysis,” Material Insight, http://material-insight.com/NavajoBlanket.htm (accessed October 21, 2014). 68 Ibid. 14 builds.”69 Could it be that this act of plying yarn from varying sources was done with intention, as an act of material exploration, or even their cosmological worldview?

The Many Values of Raveled Yarn

It is without a doubt that unpicking threads from a previously woven cloth takes time, patience, and requires an end goal in mind that is significant enough to justify the process.

There is value, then, in the result of that time investment, beyond any aesthetic or economic reasoning that may have initiated the process in the first place.

Aesthetically, color and material are the most obvious reasons to use raveled cloth.

Cloth in woven form is easy to fold and transport in trade. Inhabitants of Palmyra in Ancient

Syria, who lived along the Silk Road, imported the woven silk to ravel for use in their own textiles. That was purely an aesthetic decision, especially considering the cloth was raveled and rewoven for the higher class.70 The elite women in Rome who unraveled Chinese silks to make revealing clothing and tapestries were surely doing it for reasons of aesthetics, or perhaps even for the value in having fabric appropriated from an exotic cloth from far away.71

When ​bayeta ​was no longer easily available to the Navajo, they began using the “red trade blankets” with which they are famously associated, or even red flannel underwear and scraps to be unpicked and rewoven. This can be attributed to their desire to continue the aesthetic they had been developing for decades.72 On the surface, it can be deduced that the main reasons for the value of time investment in unpicking red cloth among the African and Native

American communities is aesthetic.

69 Ibid. 70 ​Mildred Constantine and Laurel Reuter, ​Whole Cloth ​(New York: Monacelli Press, 1997), 24. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid. 15 To delve a bit deeper into those aesthetic reasons can uncover some more appropriate truths relating to culture and symbolism in the imported cloth. For one, color symbolism was a noteworthy objective for the color red in particular, which could be why that color was imported so much by both African and Native American cultures. For instance, the

Pueblo first began using the raveled yarn to embroider ceremonial clothing (see fig. 8).73 It was for special occasions, typically decorated more elaborately than normal everyday wear.

Because of this reason, it’s understandable that they would want to accentuate the occasion with color that would stand out and make a statement.

In Africa, the lust for red wasn’t so strong because they didn’t have red dye locally. In fact, they did. But they prized the saturation of the imported red wool because the wool absorbed the dye much better than the plant fibers native to Africa. The saturation of a bright red has visual power, hence why it was associated with different cultures’ elaborate and complex weave structures of such impressive quality.74 That’s also why ​Aso Ipo ​is associated

with chiefs and used in funerary ceremonies. In fact, the access to bright red wool

transformed very important ceremonial textile traditions in Africa.75

The Yoruba ​Aso Ipo,​ the “cloth from red cloth,” was adopted into the Egungun

Masquerade as part of the main costume. The purpose of the costume, enhanced by the bright red cloth, was to embody “a generalized ancestral spirit” in a ceremony meant for connecting with the collective ancestors.76

73 Joe Ben Wheat, ​Blanket Weaving in the Southwest ​(Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2003), 69. 74 ​Colleen E. Kriger, ​Cloth in West African History ​(Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2006), 36. 75 Ibid. 76 ​Elisha P. Renne, “Aso Ipo, Red Cloth from Bunu,” African Arts 25, no. 3 (1992): 66. 16 Red flannel was very promptly used throughout Benin culture as soon as it was available. Anything red was highly valued, even above gold and silver. The Benin King is said to have restricted the color red to be worn only by those with his permission.77

The color symbolism inherent in the red imported cloth is notable especially in the use of the raveled red thread in cloths meant for funeral use. In most African communities, especially before access to red cloth, white was used due to cosmological beliefs. A colonial officer in 1926 documented that the Bunu Yoruba were weaving burial cloth in red, white, and even yellow unraveled from European cloth.78

The use of red color in some African communities can be seen as a metaphor for success and social or political status. At the same time, it can be associated with suffering and pain, considering that often success is due to much work. Yet other communities consider it “fearsome,” associating it with the “destructiveness of death.”79 Regardless, it is a powerful color with many powerful associations, and its availability certainly helped transform how these communities mentioned interacted with it.

The literal value of both red cloth and cloth made with incorporated raveled red yarn can be a reason in itself. Textiles have long been used as a form of literal currency. There is value in the inherent ability of cloth to transport easily. Cloth is durable and can withstand a journey on a ship, isn’t as heavy as metal like gold or silver, and can be easily divided into smaller sections just like money. Before paper money, cloth was used as currency in Africa.80

According to Esi Dogbe, Associate Professor of Pan-African Literature at the University of

Louisville, “As a commodity, cloth was procured from European traders in exchange for gold,

77 Kriger, 36. 78 Renne, 66. 79 Renne, 69. 80 ​Esi Dogbe, “Unraveled Yarns: Dress, Consumption, and Women’s Bodies in Ghanaian Culture,” ​Fashion Theory: The Journal of Dress, Body and Culture ​7, no. 3 (2003): ​382-383. 17 ivory and slaves.”81 Especially valuable was the hand-loomed ​Kente ​and ​Aso Ipo.​ All were considered “good cloth,” and they were made supplementing their indigenous cotton thread with imported threads of bright colors.82

In 1517 Duarte Barbusa said that the merchants of Sufala (the Southeast coast of

Africa) unraveled imported Indian cloth from Cambay and wove it with their local white cotton to make colorful textiles. “With this thread and their own white they make much coloured cloth, and from it gain much gold.”83 The Moors in Africa would also purchase cloth from

Cambay to weave with their white cotton to sell for gold.84

With cloth being currency, having access to high quality cloths can be significant in terms of personal and political status. In short, cloth at one point was entirely related to personal success. I would argue that even today, having access to certain types of cloth can give others an impression of your social and economic status, although at the same time it can be used as a facade to shield the reality of your status as well. Among the Ga people in

Africa, family members would tear strips of a deceased woman’s cloth and distribute it to relatives to “symbolize her economic independence.”85 This was a public display for the preservation of her accomplishments.

In 1817 a British envoy in Africa noted the Asante chiefs were “in a general blaze of splendor” with their expensive raveled silk textiles, stunning in both color and pattern (see figs. 9 and 10).86 In Yoruba, ​Aso Ipo ​was restricted in production to the prestigious. Only those who could afford to spend money on the expensive textiles from other countries were

81 Ibid., 383. 82 Ibid. 83 Mark Horton, “Artisans, Communities, and Commodities: Medieval Exchanges between Northwestern India and East Africa,” ​Ars Orientalis ​34 (2004): 75. 84 J​essica Hemmings, "Appropriated Threads: The Unpicking and Reweaving Imported Textiles," in ​Silk Roads, Other Roads: Proceedings of the 8th Biennial Symposium of the Textile Society of America,​ Session 16 (Northampton: Textile Society of America, 2003), 119-120. 85 Dobe, 383. 86 Hemmings, 119. 18 able to commission others to weave it for them.87 ​Aso Ipo ​also played a role in maintaining

family rank. Often it was hung from the doorways of prominent chiefs when they died (see fig.

11).88 They found incredible value in the aspect that the cloth was exotic, from another place

far away and very different from their own. These reasons alone go beyond just the aesthetic

reasons for wanting textiles made from raveled yarn - far beyond color or necessity.89 It was a

visibly powerful social and political tool.

In Craft​ and the Kingly Ideal: Art, Trade and Power ​by Mary Helms, she notes that

imported products can hold transformative power. These products still hold the qualities of

their original craftsmanship from a place far away, and those qualities can translate to the

idea that the individual who possesses the imported product (most of the time one who holds

political or social power) is demonstrating that they possess the unique qualities of the people

from this faraway place.90 In this way, they have connections to the wild, and perhaps quite

dangerous, world outside of their own.91 This garners respect among their people, that they

should trust this powerful person with worldly connections.

On a related note, a recently unearthed Navajo blanket contained a small red repair

patch on one edge which has been determined to be like the weaver’s signature (see fig. 12).

92 By using raveled red thread against the indigo and white hues of the blanket, the weaver

was perhaps indicating her access to the coveted and valuable material, and possibly even

suggesting her importance in Navajo society.

Although the literal and social values of the specially made cloth with bright red

raveled yarns was a good motivation, tradition became just as important after the process was

87 ​Elisha P. Renne, “Aso Ipo, Red Cloth from Bunu,” African Arts 25, no. 3 (1992): 68. 88 Ibid. 89 Ibid. 90 Mary Helms, ​Craft and the Kingly Ideal: Art, Trade, and Power ​(Austin: University of Texas Press, 1993), 49. 91 Ibid., 41. 92 Hemmings, 120. 19 inherited into the message of the weavings. The act of raveling yarn to weave, after all, is a powerful one. Tradition kept the act alive, sometimes even when the red cloth for unraveling was difficult to procure. As mentioned before, the Navajo would resort to unpicking threads from flannel underwear in a time of need. It would have been easier to skip the process altogether, but the necessity of tradition kept them going back for the raveled thread. In a similar vein, by the time the Búnú were colonized they were weaving ​Aso Ipo ​from red wool colonial hospital blankets to keep their tradition alive. It was difficult otherwise to produce a red dye of the desired color using their local resources.93

Even though synthetic red dye was introduced to the Hopis by 1872, the Navajo remained dependent on raveling commercial cloth. While they had access to the dyes and could likely have purchased red commercial yarn instead, they continued to weave with the raveled yarn.94 In fact, we know that raveled yarn was saved from generations before. This provides insight into the tradition of raveling yarn not only purely out of aesthetics or economics, but as a bridge between generations. According to Casey Reed, “Knowing the yarn was saved from decades before certainly brings the rich ethnological and historical qualities to the focus, not just the monetary value. It may have been her grandmother’s yarn or from her older brother’s or father’s clothing.”95 Just as cultural and historical information can be gained by looking into the age, material sources, and manufacturing process of the dyed yarns in Navajo textiles, we can also glean family ties and other cultural relationships.96

93 Ibid., 121. 94 Joe Ben Wheat, ​Blanket Weaving in the Southwest ​(Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2003), 66. 95 ​Casey Reed, “Navajo Textile Certification Dye and Fiber Analysis,” Material Insight, http://material-insight.com/NavajoBlanket.htm (accessed October 21, 2014). 96 Ibid. 20 Empowerment, Defiance and Rebellion

There is a Marxist theory on mass culture as a tool or system of dominance meant to control the lower classes. The Deconstructionist point of view is that individuals create their own meaning and interpretation from that which is available to them, depending on their own lifestyle choices.97 This is important especially to textiles whose function is to clothe the body.

Clothing equals social identity, and in many cases sexual identity. To create your own clothing from imported cloth - translated aesthetically to meet your personal needs and reconstructed to suit your identity - is a form of empowerment.98

The West African women weavers were creative and resilient. Not only did they control the trade of textiles, they were also fashion designers and makers who would

“cannibalize” clothes and appropriate material from global cloth and fashion to make something new and truer to their identity.99 Esi Dogbe writes, “During the colonial period, the art of resculpting and beautifying the body in many African societies often transfixed and scandalized European missionaries as well as colonial officials.”100 It raises an evocative image of women weavers methodically unpicking the small threads from woven red cloth and appropriating them into their own desired patterns. The act itself of taking apart a structure so seemingly complete - fabric, a symbol of abundance, its wholeness being slowly taken away, but then reimagined into something arguably greater.

In the Native American myth of the old woman and the black dog, many think the inherent message is that the “unraveling is part of creation.”101 The threads connecting us are constantly woven together and subsequently unraveled. Sometimes the things surrounding

97 ​Esi Dogbe, “Unraveled Yarns: Dress, Consumption, and Women’s Bodies in Ghanaian Culture,” ​Fashion Theory: The Journal of Dress, Body and Culture ​7, no. 3 (2003): ​379. 98 Ibid., 380-382. 99 Ibid., 378-379. 100 Ibid., 380. 101 Vincent P. Ward, "The Old Woman in the Cave: How Trouble Becomes Transformation," http://www.vwardphd.com/TheStoryofChange.en.html (accessed October 14, 2014). 21 us seem to be coming apart, but it has all happened before and will happen again.102 It evokes a feeling of uncertainty, but also of comfort. In the words of psychotherapist Vincent

Ward, “Always the world has recovered from its unraveling.”103

Sometimes experiencing and even facilitating disorder can be how we find order in a system or community.104 ​Some​ communities in Southeast Africa have devised what

anthropologist Heinrich Schurtz calls “Rituals of Rebellion.”105 This practice challenges social

order, but at the same time is “intended to preserve and strengthen the established order.”106

It can be a nonviolent way to express your freedom in a restrictive environment without

reciprocation, but more as a form of creative expression within the social establishment. It

can provide a chance to adapt and take chances, or “to infuse reality with actuality.”107

For those particular communities that developed the unraveling process under colonial

rule, I would argue that this theory holds true. The image of an individual meticulously

unraveling red thread is fundamentally powerful especially when you consider the implication

that it is an abstract way of correcting their cultural identity within the rule of another culture

(see fig. 13). Psychologically, the act of symbolic inversion, or unweaving the threads of an

already assembled imported cloth from another culture, allows a culture to truly speak about

itself, or make a more impactful statement, if not subdued. The red color itself had an

important role in the rise of the independence movement in Ghana in the 20th century. The

Universal Negro Improvement Associated (UNIA), founded by Jamaican activist Marcus

Garvey in 1920, announced the colors red, green and black the “colors of the Negro race,” the

red being a symbol of “the blood of the race, nobly shed in the past and dedicated to the

102 Ibid. 103 Ibid. 104 ​Barbara Babcock, ​The Reversible World: Symbolic Inversion in Art and Society ​(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1978), 20. 105 Ibid., 22. 106 Ibid. 107 Ibid., 25. 22 future.”108 The colors were integrated into a popular Kente pattern, and from the 1960s onward that particular traditional Kente could be worn as an act of defiance and was considered part of the process of decolonization.109

By the early 19th century in Mexico, political change and years of revolution in Mexico to release themselves from the Spanish caused a shift in trade materials and access to the bayeta.110 There were also wars between the Navajo and Mexicans. When the U.S. Army entered to take control, they uprooted the Navajo and forced them on a march known as the

Long Walk to Bosque Redondo.111 Organized hostility ended, but the Navajo were undoubtedly traumatized, faced also with a metaphorical and real displacement of their identity.

After their dislocation, the Navajo spent much of their time focusing on developing their creativity. Ambition led them to ​use “every kind of wool product they could find to weave every kind of weaving the trader at the trading post demanded or made popular.”112 Because they were still so in touch with trade, they continued to have access to ​bayeta ​and continued weaving Navajo blankets to support themselves. Yet, it’s easy to see the bright red raveled thread as a paradox; The one hand appears representative of their struggle of displacement, while on the other appears to be a symbol of their identity in the form of the patterned designs for which they were known.

In Africa at the beginning of the 20th century, the establishment of British Colonialism brought political and economic change that transformed the demands of the indigenous people by the introduction of even more imported products at competitive prices and quality.

108 Doran H. Ross, ​Wrapped in Pride: Ghanaian Kente and African American Identity ​(Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2001), 164-165. 109 Ibid., 166. 110 ​Casey Reed, “Navajo Textile Certification Dye and Fiber Analysis,” Material Insight, http://material-insight.com/NavajoBlanket.htm (accessed October 21, 2014). 111 Ibid. 112 Ibid. 23 113 Eventually the British hegemony developed policies in their attempt to adapt the weaving industry for better trade and change the technology the indigenous people were using. An example is the narrow strip cloth indigenous to Africa, which the British at one point attempted to eradicate in favor of broad cloth weaving on wider looms.114 The policies were largely resisted, although the access to European materials unquestionably influenced how textiles looked, most obviously in the form of material and color. The attempt to control weavers led to a period of innovation, in which some textile artists experimented with the new imported materials and technology that were introduced by the British.115

These examples of the Navajo trade blankets and Nigerian use of the hospital blankets are symbolic of cultural repression and the subsequent illumination of tradition and cultural identity. In the words of textile researcher Jessica Hemmings, “In these cases they are carefully deconstructed and woven back into the traditional patterns; eloquent, if hard earned, examples of ingenuity and adaptation.”116

The development of the process of using imported cloth to procure threads of a desired color does not come without cultural consequences, both positive and negative. The access to the bright red wool changed traditions in Africa, transforming important ceremonial textile traditions.117 Global exchange was enhanced by the British trade network and increased the exposure of the Yoruba to British culture. This intensified the emergence of

113 ​Judith Perani and Norma H. Wolff, “Continuity and Change in Twentieth-Century Cloth Traditions,” ​The Berg Fashion Library ​(1999): http://0-www.bergfashionlibrary.com.library.scad.edu/view/CDART/chapter-CDART0012.xml (accessed October 14, 2014). 114 Ibid. 115 Ibid. 116 J​essica Hemmings, "Appropriated Threads: The Unpicking and Reweaving Imported Textiles," in ​Silk Roads, Other Roads: Proceedings of the 8th Biennial Symposium of the Textile Society of America,​ Session 16 (Northampton: Textile Society of America, 2003), 122. 117 ​Colleen E. Kriger, ​Cloth in West African History ​(Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2006), 36. 24 new patterns of aesthetics and cultural taste.118 As a result of increased trade and market demand with the Spanish and Mexico, the Navajo stylistically adapted their blankets to resemble Spanish or Mexican Saltillo designs.119

These are solid examples of how the use of imported textiles to enhance indigenous cloth affected the development of cultural identity. However, even rebellion against one’s own cultural identity can actually be looked at in a positive way. Just like the rebellion against colonial rule helps to establish a culture’s social and political standing, it can also affect how a class consciousness develops itself in more revolutionary terms.120 In short, it allows progress and can denote boundaries between cultures and their ways of living through the act of creative expression.121

An expansion in access to creative tools allows for an expansion of choice and cultural expression. Hence, access to imported cloth with technologically differing styles and colors was increased in many cultures through colonial, local, and global “systematic frameworks.”

While there was choice which ultimately helped locally-oriented cultures create their own rules within their systems, economic dependencies developed as a result. After dependence is formed on imported cloth, such as the use of imported red fabric in distinction of the elite from the common, the freedom of choice can be then looked at as a complete lack of choice, or rather an absorption of one’s culture within the larger ruling system. In the case of colonial takeover, the trade network pre-established by the ruling party strengthened the number of

118 Perani. 119 ​Casey Reed, “Navajo Textile Certification Dye and Fiber Analysis,” Material Insight, http://material-insight.com/NavajoBlanket.htm (accessed October 21, 2014). 120 ​Barbara Babcock, ​The Reversible World: Symbolic Inversion in Art and Society ​(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1978), 23. 121 Ibid., 27. 25 choices available to those being controlled. At that point, I would argue that it is no longer a choice, but an illusion of the freedom within invasion.122

Conclusion

What we wear, how we wear it, and where it comes from can provide insight into political, economic, and cultural situations.123 We can learn by studying cultures throughout history that limited access to resources can amount to significant innovations that change the way the world works. In the same way, cultural struggles can result in ingenious creative expression and social solutions. These innovations have brought our societies today to a place of global abundance, where trade and communication is the still the foundation of all economies around the world. Yet, while the abundance of imported textiles at one time encouraged cultures in North America and Africa to appropriate what was available to make something special of their own, the modern day world is adapting in a different way as this abundance has given way to a different kind of innovation.

In the modern context, to describe someone meticulously unweaving strips of thread from a woven cloth is to conjure the image that there is no abundance. The scarcity of access to materials creates the necessity of the act itself. And while the original unpickers of fabric may have originally done so out of scarcity, the evolution of the practice went far beyond that.

Necessity turned into abundance, but now abundance is turning into necessity. The context of their practice has since changed dramatically.

The abundance of products and choices in the modern world is entirely based on an extraordinarily complex network of global trade. This network governs what access we have

122 ​Esi Dogbe, “Unraveled Yarns: Dress, Consumption, and Women’s Bodies in Ghanaian Culture,” ​Fashion Theory: The Journal of Dress, Body and Culture ​7, no. 3 (2003): ​382. 123 Ibid., 380. 26 to what products, all the while being additionally influenced by the political decisions of participating nations. Our relationships with these networks are completely dependent, therefore it can be deduced that, just like the cultures in Africa operating under colonial rule, our choices are indeed limited to that of the governing system. What’s more, the dramatic problems we have created as a result of our dependence on new products in general are now governing limits to certain raw materials like petroleum, and we are having to recontextualize the way we live our lives to make more sense if we are to live in harmony with our planet.

Instead of taking advantage of the abundance of global textiles solely for our own cultural appropriation, the recycling of textiles is becoming more prominent. Many artists are using the bountiful supply of resources to their advantage, much in the same way that trade of cloth was facilitated and resulted in the use of unraveled threads for a variety of purposes.

Cultures like the Navajo and South African weavers unpicked threads out of necessity, and metaphorically speaking, so are we. But the reason is different. They did it for aesthetics and cultural expression, but now we must do it for preservation.

27

Figure 1. Dora Wheeler, 1886, ​Penelope Unraveling Her Work at Night.​ [database online] (ARTstor, accessed 14 October 2014); available www.artstor.org, image ID MMA_IAP_10311574379

Figure 2. ​Kente Cloth Wrapper.​ 1960-70. Ghana. [database online] (ARTstor, accessed 14 October 2014); available www.artstor.org, image ID ASLAMIG_10312598136

Figure 3. Strip-woven cloth collected by Andrea Riis, 1840, Ghana, Basel Mission Collection in the Museum of Culture, Basel, 23.334.

Figure 4. ​Three different aso ipo patterns.​ Date Unknown. Accessed 14 November 2014.

Figure 5. ​Manta, Dress, One-Piece.​ 1750-1850. University of Colorado Museum. Catalog No. 27484.

Figure 6. Raveled bayeta yarn up close. Image scan from ​Blanket Weaving in the Southwest ​by Joe Ben Wheat.

Figure 7. Navajo Woman’s Shoulder Blanket. Phase II. 1865-1870. Via ​Blanket Weaving in the Southwest ​by Joe Ben Wheat, p. 221.

This shoulder blanket features two kinds of raveled wool yarn - an s-spun dark crimson yarn dyed with cochineal and a z-spun scarlet dyed with synthetic dye. The white on this textile has also been raveled.

Figure 8. ​Pueblo Manta.​ 1850. Accessed 14 November 2014.

Figure 9. Asante chiefs with their entourages entering the Kumase Sports Stadium for the celebration of the silver jubilee of the reign of Asantehene Opoku Ware II. Photograph by Frank Fournier, Kumase, 1995. Image via ​Wrapped in Pride: Ghanaian Kente and African American Identity,​ p. 41.

Figure 10. Asante chiefs with their entourages entering the Kumase Sports Stadium for the celebration of the silver jubilee of the reign of Asantehene Opoku Ware II. Photograph by Frank Fournier, Kumase, 1995. Image via ​Wrapped in Pride: Ghanaian Kente and African American Identity,​ p. 41.

Figure 11. Photo by Elisha P. Renne. ​Dancers of Ofosi, The Women’s Secret Society, at a commemorative funeral ceremony of a deceased chief who held two titles.​ 1987. Via Aso Ipo, Red Cloth from Búnú.

Figure 12. ​Mid-19th Century Navajo Ute First Phase Blanket,​ Detail of Red Patch, Antiques Roadshow June 9, 2001.

Figure 13. ​Navajo Transitional Serape.​ Raveled late cloth. 1875-1885. [database online] (ARTstor, accessed 14 November 2014); available www.artstor.org, image ID AHARVARDIG_10313274801