On a previous trip to Venice, I had tried to book a visit to Tessitura Luigi Bevilacqua. This time, the stars aligned.
This is a day I remember vividly. It was a hot Venetian summer morning, and I found my way through the narrow walkways, twists and turns, determined to be on time. In Venice, even the best-laid plans take a detour. I arrived just in time.
After passageway upon passageway, and possibly a few wrong turns, it was as if a mirage appeared: a courtyard, simple and open, filled only with space and light. I paused for a moment. The facade was understated, and therein lay its beauty.
Inside, I browsed the showroom while I waited. I could not yet put it into words, but I knew there was something extraordinary behind every piece in front of me.
The artisans were already at work when the tour began. Even unfinished, the fabrics were breathtaking. I remember simply watching, taken by the process and the craft. The colors seemed to come alive on the looms. There was something special about the reds, the pinks, the golds, all of the colors. The way the silk and the velvets brought the designs to life made it clear how rich this craft is in history and expertise.
In Lyon, I had learned that velvet is a weave, not a fiber. Here, I watched it woven by hand.
I made a note of one fact: one of the looms held 1,600 bobbins and 16,000 threads. Imagine setting up that loom, or repairing it.
Even unfinished, the fabrics were breathtaking.
Before we finished, my guide showed me fabrics made for palaces, churches and theaters, from Venice to the White House in Washington: wall coverings, religious garments and fashion.
The history. The craft. All still at work, and treasured by many, even those who do not know its name.
— Aimée