Monday, May. 17, 1971
Knotty but Nice
In the 13th century, Arab weavers are said to have discovered that instead of snipping unneeded lengths of twine from finished products, they could braid it into an attractive, decorative fringe with a series of simple knots. Slowly the technique spread north to Europe. In 1689 when William of Orange became King of England, his wife, Queen Mary, introduced the fascinating art of macrame (from the Arab rnigrarmah, meaning ornamental braid or fringe) to palace circles. The Incas and American Indians had their own versions. Sometimes widely popular, sometimes kept alive only by seamen to whom knotting was both work and diversion, macrame had been dormant in the U.S. since 1857.
Great Divider. A new boom is under way. It started in the counterculture, where the inexpensive ingredients and do-it-yourself potential had great appeal. But macrame has been co-opted, and is being taught in churches and schools all over the country. An Irvine, Calif., country club has just commissioned a $3,000 room divider by Libby Flatus, a leading practitioner. Reports Ernie Austin, who runs a small shop in Manhattan called Macramania: "My customers run from longhairs to squares of all colors, shapes and sizes." A major supplier of macrame material is Pacific Fiber and Rope of Wilmington, Calif. Owner Carl Goldman reports macrame interest is "overwhelming . . . enormous. A year ago, we had maybe zero accounts in macrame. Now we must have at least 200."
The reasons for macrame's rejuvenation are clear enough: it is simple, cheap, attractive and practical. "It's easy to learn," says Eileen Bernard, a California macrame artist. "I can easily teach anyone the basics in just one or two hours." All that is really needed is enough string or twine of the desired color and degree of strength, some hefty pins and a soft board. The strands are pinned to the board at one end, then the loose ends are knotted together repeatedly in either clove hitches or square knots. Any reasonably adept amateur can quickly create belts, bracelets and necklaces; in a few months, he should be turning out vests, dresses, overskirts, ponchos and other body coverings. Highly skilled artists like Mrs. Bernard concentrate on enormously intricate wall hangings. A much smaller but equally intriguing macrame work is a bikini of nylon strands selling for $32.50 at Manhattan's Macramania. Is the garment lined? "Good Lord, no," says Austin, "but the knots are pretty close together."
Nautical Knotter. To purists, the closeness of the knots is far less important than the idea of making it oneself, an urge that is not limited to macrame. Knitting, leatherwork and fancy needlework are all in vogue. Tandy Leather, a handicraft chain store with outlets all over the country, says its leather sales have risen 51% this year. But macrame, seven centuries old, is what's In. Salty Stanley Postek, who owns Nautique Arts in Manhattan, is one of the first to offer macrame kits. These start at $5 and range up to $12 and higher for advanced projects. There are at least 15 books and six periodicals devoted to macrame. One paperback has sold 500,000 copies.
The kits and books arouse the scorn of some longtime enthusiasts. "macrame is a beautiful and old art form," says Mrs. Christa Mayer, curator of textiles at the Chicago Art Institute, "but it is being sadly cheapened by the how-to books." Although macrame's pragmatic virtues are stressed in its latest incarnation, it retains its artistic values. New York's Museum of American Folk Art has just opened an exhibition of the more splendid examples. Among the items on display: an Inca hat, delicate macrame lace from 17th century Genoa, and fur rugs macramed by Eskimos.
This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.