The story of seasilk goes back deep into the mists of time. The Bible speaks of it as the cloth of King Solomon and Aristotle relates it to Queen Hecuba. I can only say that it has always been part of my life and will be, as long as I live. I will keep faith with the vow to the water which accompanies it: the laws of the Craft are passed on by means of an oath which prohibits its use for any personal gain. Seasilk is, and must always be, something which belongs to all people, just as the sea does:

“Winds from West, East, North and South,
Take my soul and
Cast it into the depths
Let my life be
A being, a praying and a weaving
For all people,
Which comes and goes from me
Without time, without name, without colour, without limit,
Without money
In the name of the Lion of my Soul and
Of the Eternal Spirit.
Let it be so.”

Byssus is an animal fibre of special value: it is produced by a giant bivalve mollusc, found on the floor of the Mediterranean. Its dark amber colour changes when it is exposed to the light: the sun’s rays cause it to shine like gold. At the time of my grandmother, fishermen harvested the giant “Pen” mussels and were able to obtain large quantities of threads of considerable length, that could be used to produce fabrics completely made, warp and woof, of byssus. The silk flock inside the shell was torn out and dried in the shade, so that it could be teased with large iron combs. Then, after the fibre had been desalinated, it was spun and twisted, using heavy spindles and cards to roll it into 300 gramme skeins of thread. These could be stretched out to 17 metre lengths, to form the bed of threads which, with different woofs, could be woven into finest woollen fabric to make priceless garments for popes and queens and heads of state.

Of course, it was always my greatest desire to maintain a balance between sea and land and to keep alive both the historic memory of the cloth and a deep respect for nature. Having sworn to my grandmother and to the sea that I would continue to preserve this art for all people, I undertook many years’ study of the ecosystem of my island. I discovered that at certain times of year particular climatic conditions soften the mud on the floor of the lagoon, making it possible to lift the creature without hurting it, cut away its silk and re-bed it without damaging it. In this way I receive from the sea as a gift, the essential raw material of this cloth of inestimable value, whose destiny is to give pleasure to everyone. My whole life is dedicated to the historic conservation of this art. It has in fact been necessary to modify completely the working and the spinning of the fibre. Furthermore, it is evident that such a complex process is uneconomic. Any idea of exploiting this weaving to a commercial end, however exclusive, is out of the question. But in any case, this was never my intention. I have, rather, preferred to follow the laws of this master-craft, which insist that it should be preserved as a good for all people. The oaths sworn to the sea clearly express the will to maintain this art as a good for humanity and not as something for personal gain.

It is possible, too, to talk in a technical way of what has to be done to treat the fibre, but of course it is not possible to put down in words the ancient gestures which are part of this heritage. It would be possible to explain the various treatments the fibre undergoes, but to immerse oneself in such laborious things, would take years of coming to the workshop of a mastercraftswoman to absorb the gestures and movements and learn to imitate her.

In a single year, it is possible to harvest about 600 grammes of silk from a reef of adult Pen shells which are about 7 years old.
The silk is desalinated for 25 days, great care being taken to change the fresh water repeatedly until it is completely desalinated.
Then the fibre is laid out in the shade until it is completely dry.
It is immersed in a solution of various natural elements which give it an elasticity and prepare it to be worked. The treatment gives it a sheen and a beautiful amber colour.
The fibre is dried in a shaded, well-ventilated place, so that it does not dehydrate too much.
Carding is done with a very fine-toothed comb, to separate the fibre from any tiny algae which may still be present.

For the spinning, a spindle must be used whose head has a diameter of no more than 3.5 cm. and whose length is no more than 20 cm.
The spinning is very complex, since it must intertwine fibres whose length is no more than 2 cm., or at most, 3 cm.. It has to be twisted at great speed, using only the bare hand, with no other aid to hold the fibre. This produces an excellent result, in terms both of strength and softness.
Fibre produced like this can be used for work of the highest quality, and in a variety of ways: hand weaving is still practised in my studio and can be enjoyed by the public. It is done on warps of linen and the beating of the threads can only be done with reed combs.

It has been a pleasure to meet with you in this little introduction to my life as a Mastercraftswoman of Byssus, but of course such a short account can convey very little. For you really to know, appreciate and love it, you would need to enter into the magic world of my workshop where the art lives on, without fear of being sold, and where an encounter with one who loves and defends it becomes… a moment in life that could never be put into words, not even by a Mastercraftswoman.

Chiara Vigo

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