Coast Salish weaver shares her connection to land, lineage and natural dyes

For Coast Salish weaver Myrna Crossley, a blanket isn’t just wool, it's a connection to land, culture and her ancestors.

Crossley has lived on the Tsartlip reserve, her late husband master carver Charles Elliott's home community, in W̱SÁNEĆ territory for 35 years. For the last five or six, she's woven full-time. 

She comes to the practice through her mother's side, the Lək̓ʷəŋən-speaking people from Songhees. She took her first workshop in 1993 under Rita Bob of Pauquachin, at a time when few weavers remained.

Crossley makes her own dyes, sourcing unique colours from the land and learning as she goes. She spoke to CBC News about her process and what's next in her practice.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity. 

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How did you learn to source natural dyes for your weaving?

My first attempt at dyeing was through my teacher, Rita. After that, I've been on my own, doing research.

Nettle is one of my favourites for dyeing. It's a spiritual plant to me. It's good medicine, good food, great for its fibre and colour. Nettle, I've used barks, arbutus, cedar, maple, and some fir. In plant life, I like to source things that are Indigenous to the land, but I’ll try other sources as well.

I just made a dye with goldenrod, which gave a really nice bright yellow. I've used dead man's foot mushroom and lobster mushroom. I've got a few other mushrooms I haven't tried yet. They’re dried and waiting to go in the pot. 

Being observant in nature and just looking at what colours that they could possibly give, being curious, that's how I've learned most.

What have you been working on recently?

In the last couple years, one of the largest pieces I've made is 12 feet by five feet, which is hanging at the University of Victoria. I have some pieces down at the Chicago Museum right now, and I believe that exhibit is for seven to 10 years.

I’m working on two larger commissions and I've done quite a few smaller weavings for cultural purposes — people in my community and family. I also participated in a fashion show in Victoria,  and that was pretty exciting.

When you have some of your pieces up on display, what are those pieces teaching people about the practice of weaving and the tradition?

I want my work to reflect our connection with the land. I also want them to reflect our culture, because blankets play a significant role in our culture.

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When I weave, I think of the person that I'm weaving it for and the purpose. I have to have a clear mind, clear thoughts, because all my energy is going into that blanket. I want it to be clear and clean. 

When I use colour, whenever I do work, I say my prayers, do my meditation. When I go out on the land, I give thanks to the flowers, the bark, or whatever it is I'm gathering.

What have you learned about the dyeing process since you started?

I'm starting to take note of the colours that I achieve from these dye pots. And I think about that plant, you know — what was the temperature? What was the season I gathered it in? What were the soil conditions? Because there's such variance in the colours. Everything makes a difference, so being in tune with the land is really important to me.

With the changes that we've been seeing with the climate, and the environment, have these changes impacted your practices at all?

It has, because in the past, you know, spring was spring, summer was summer, fall was fall.

But last year, I missed out on the opportunity for salal berries. When I went there, they weren't ready. It was cold. And then the second time, a few weeks later, I went to that same spot and I got there and they were completely dried up. I couldn't use them.

So the window of opportunity for gathering, depending on the weather, sometimes it closes and you miss out.

How long does it take you to weave a blanket?

On a regular blanket that somebody would wear in ceremony, they're usually around five feet. It would take me a couple weeks. At least three weeks to a month from beginning to end, but that's not counting the dyeing process or necessarily all the spinning.

But the whole process, it’s really hard to say, because there's different stages. 

Right now, I have to get out on the land to gather. In the meantime, I'm spinning my wool. If I'm going to gather enough for the next year, I want to do several pounds of wool in one colour. So that would take me a couple of days, just the gathering. And then I spin my wool, and I get it ready to receive colour. 

When the water hits the wool, that colour will not go into the wool unless you open it up. So we use what's called a mordant, which opens up the scales of the fibre on the wool. It opens up like a flower, the colour goes in, and it closes again. I have to mordant my wool before putting it in the dye bath. 

Depending on the type of material I'm using for the dye — say, for instance, if it's a plant, like goldenrod or nettle — I usually only take a day of simmering it in the pot to pull the colour out of the leaves. If it's a bark, I'll leave the bark in a pot for a couple of weeks. 

Once the dye pot is ready, I put my wool in there, and I'll let it sit for at least one day. I also shift my colours by the different pots that I use. Either it be copper or iron. Or I can also use additives like calcium tablets. Shifting the pH balance changes the colour. There's a lot of science involved. That's kind of the fun part. 

Once the wool’s ready, I'll warp my loom, and the warp is usually two balls I spin together. The tension on the loom can cause the wool to pull apart. So I shock the balls, tighten them up, and then dry them before they go on the loom.. And then the weaving starts.

What does weaving give to you in your life? 

Weaving is my refuge. It's my place where I can go to be at peace and in tune with my surroundings.

It’s in my family, my fourth generation grandmother. Her name was Swanimia. She was a weaver. I recently came into possession of the two family blankets that she wove. So I had that for almost a year and I'll be replicating them. They were woven with Salish woolly dog hair, and mountain goat hair. It's multigenerational.

It ties me to my land, to my culture, to my family, to the governance of our culture, our laws of our culture.