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by Angel Ellis Khoury
"Just look. Don't touch," said Janet Cocciarelli to her son, Mathias, as he watched the weaver selecting from among long strips of cotton rags arranged in her wicker basket like a painter's palette, in little blobs of blue, green and lavender. It's something parents with small children repeat endlessly when venturing into a shop: "Don't touch."
Here they don't have to. "It's okay!" responded Rabiah Hodges, weaving director at Endless Possibilities, Outer Banks Hotline's recycled weaving shop. "Textiles are all about touch. It's better than a handshake that someone would reach out and touch your weaving."
Sara Dilley, who volunteers a few hours a week, stopped weaving so Mathias could feel the tufts of rags being transformed into vividly striped patterns. She was at work in what's called the "weaving zoo," the front portion of the shop with a large wall of glass overlooking Budleigh Street in downtown Manteo. The weaving zoo never fails to catch people's eyes. "We were walking by and saw her weaving, and decided to stop in," said Janet, visiting from Evansville, Indiana. "The shop looked interesting, but when we learned it's all about helping people, that made it even more irresistible. How could you not buy something?"
Lining the brick walls of the shop are 14 looms, each with something in the works rugs, table runners, bags, boas, cell-phone and sunglasses cases, even clogs all fashioned from discarded clothing collected at Hotline's thrift shops. A volunteer walks in with a plastic trash bag stuffed full of clothes. Rabiah spills it out onto the floor like an excited child at Christmas. "Cashmere from L. L. Bean! Look at this red leather jacket, almost too nice to cut into pocketbook straps. "She spies a dress made of raw silk in just the shade of green she was collecting in her own basket. But unlike a painter's palette of solid hues, the weavers delight in pattern and texture as much as color. Fringe, ribbon, blanket selvage, all of these go into the colorful textiles, as well as buttons still attached to the fabric. "It saves us from having to sew the buttons on," Rabiah explained.
"They're woven directly into the piece, along with labels or other elements that interest the weaver." She calls to Pam Matthews, whose job is to sew the woven textiles into usable items. "A whole bag of buttons!" Meanwhile, two men sit working steadily at their looms, unperturbed by all the exclamations.
But it's hard not to catch the enthusiasm, and Rabiah has a way to recycle that, too. Anyone can sign up as a volunteer, or enroll in a weaving class by appointment. At the end of your class, which runs from 10 am to 4 pm, you'll have learned the basics of weaving, and can take your rug, wall hanging, pillow, table runner or set of placemats home with you. For an additional $20 above the $65 instructional fee, you can have your weaving made into a purse or tote bag.
Volunteers or class enrollees can bring their own fabrics, or fill their wicker baskets with clothing neatly categorized by color and pattern that's cut into long ribbons for weaving. Three walls are stacked ceiling high with old milk and peach baskets containing everything from jeans to camouflage jackets to sequined party dresses to chenille blankets, with a special collection of faux fur and animal prints.
The Family Ties program is another personalized project in which patrons can become involved. Those neckties hanging around in your closet can become a rug, Christmas stocking, purse or pillow. Memory cloth is another way to remember someone while helping the healing process, as baby clothes, prom dresses or business suits are transformed into keepsakes from wall hangings to pillows. The shop's retail section is spilling over with merchandise, which has been expanded to include folk art and crafts made from other recycled goods. Fun, funky items included a floor lamp made of a world globe and a tall stack of cookie tins depicting state parks, with a baby blue toy model of a vintage Ford Thunderbird as a finial to top off its globe- trotting theme.
Jewelry made from recycled elements is also now part of the mix, including the work of designer Jacqui Donahue of Wilmington, Delaware, who began as a customer and now donates part of her sales to the cause. Endless Possibilities raises money for Hotline's crisis intervention center, domestic violence shelter, counseling services and HIV/AIDS programs.
At the same time, it involves those in crisis with another way to heal. "I think of it as creative, self-driven therapy rather than counseling," said Rabiah. The shop also offers an after-school hangout for teens, offers people ways to work through their grief while retaining special memories of their loved ones and recycles unwanted clothing into something of value.
Since Endless Possibilities opened in 1999, more than 600 people have taken a seat at the looms, ranging in age from 8 to 80. With between five and 15 weavers a day, totaling as many as 55 per week, it's a busy place, especially when shoppers meander past the creatively displayed merchandise and into the weaving room, to look and to touch. "Touching was and still is and always will be the true revolution," wrote the poet Nikki Giovanni. The hands that dressed the child, that washed the clothes, that gave them for a good cause, that cut them in strips, that wove them into patterns, that put them to new uses, that is truly revolutionary. Once you've made your selection of a hand-woven scarf or necktie rug or cell-phone case, each time you touch it, remember the compliment paid the weaver, as well as the good you've accomplished just by taking it home.
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