Venice with a Visit to the Weaving Atelier of Luigi Bevilacqua

What happens when you find yourself in inspiration heaven?

In my case, all of the vacation pictures of me end up looking like this:

• Venice with a Visit to the Weaving Atelier of Luigi Bevilacqua
• Nostalgia, an Art Quilt Series
• “Red Sea, Med Sea, Dead Sea,” a Quilt Triptych
• “March to Oblivion,” an Art Quilt
• Traces of Time: An Art Quilt Series

Just kidding, of course. My family did take a few OK pictures. But you get my point.

I felt like a kid in a candy store when I found myself in Venice this summer. I’ve been there before, about a decade ago, but forgot just how beautiful it was. Every street and corner had the things I love about Italy, with the addition of the beautiful canals. My breath was taken away when I lifted my gaze, peeked down, or when I looked at things far away and those right under my nose. With all that breath taking, it was a miracle I didn’t suffocate (no stink whatsoever, though, despite the harsh warnings of my sister’s friends. I have no idea why people think Venice smells).

The colors of Italy (terracotta, mauve and mustard) were everywhere.  There were more old, interesting doors than I could take pictures of (believe me, I tried!).

Finding and photographing gorgeous door knockers was a lot of fun, until I gave up.

Interesting architectural elements were beautiful and surprising.

The shop displays were masterfully done.

Some of the products, too, were … surprising.

And then there was the weaving atelier of Tessitura Luigi Bevilacqua.

Luigi Bevilacqua Weaving Atelier

I always try to find textile-related things when I travel. When I did my homework before we left home, I learned about the Bevilacqua weaving atelier. I wasn’t sure of our Venice timeline, however, so I didn’t make any advance arrangements. On our first day in Venice, I dragged my family all the way to the other side of town, to the quiet, less traveled area where the atelier resides. It took us a while to find, as the building is unassuming and doesn’t betray its content from the outside.

Only the small plaque at the door distinguishes it as the old, historic weaving factory.

Once we knew our schedule, I contacted the atelier, not expecting to be able to get in. To my great surprise and delight, they agreed to give us a tour the very next day. My kids were not excited, to say the least. They are a lot less interested in textiles than I am. But they reluctantly agreed to come nonetheless.

When we walked in the door we stepped a few hundred years into the past.

There were old, wooden machines, and tools which use I couldn’t even guess (I am not a weaver, and barely know even the most basic weaving terms).

There were two long rows of old, 18th-century wooden looms. They were absolutely beautiful, and reminded me of the looms I saw (but couldn’t photograph) in Kyoto. There were eighteen looms total, all lovingly restored and maintained.

The looms were each dressed with intricate warped light-reflecting silk threads.

There were tens, if not hundreds of bobbins on each loom. It was easy to see why it takes between one and two months to just set a loom (and up to six for the most intricate patterns)!

I’ve never seen so many wooden bobbins before. Eye candy indeed!

Then there were the threads. Piles of silk skeins in all colors of the rainbow:

Threads I do understand, and I found myself drooling…

A couple of young women were working at the looms. They wove in complete silence, as the weavers have to listen to the looms, paying attention to any change in sound that might indicate a problem. They were using old pattern punch cards, though we were told that some of the designs are new.

It takes a new weaver five years to learn the craft, and ten years to master it. New weavers learn from experienced ones. The atelier currently has six skilled weavers. The velvets they weave are to die for. Most are one color.

Some velvets combine several colors.

The weaving process is very slow, as all the weaving and cutting are done by hand. The woven cloth is 60 cm wide. On average, a weaver produces between  20 and 40 cm of velvet a day depending on the design (maybe up to 80 cm for a more simple design). The average monthly output per weaver is about 10 meters. It is no wonder, therefore, that Luigi Bevilacqua sells its exquisite velvets mostly to luxury brands and high-end or historic projects.

A commercial velvet can have the same pattern as a hand woven velvet, but it is not the same. Can you tell which of the below two is hand woven? (Hint: the hand woven cloth holds a lot more detail, which is very obvious when looked at up close):

There was also a gift shop, but, alas…

When we left the atelier, my kids said that the tour was not as boring as they feared. “I didn’t realize textiles could be so interesting,” one of them commented. And THAT is the best compliment a tour-booking, textile-loving mother can hope for…

When we later visited museums and saw the numerous paintings with velvets in them, I saw them in an entirely new light…