After Como, my research into silk intensified, and Lyon became the next place I needed to see. Friends from the area were unsure whether silk was still made there, or whether it was part of the city any longer. I needed to find out for myself.
On an earlier visit, my interest in Lyon’s silk had been half-hearted. I explored a little of La Croix-Rousse, the hillside where the city’s silk workers, the canuts, once lived and worked, but my focus was on the city as a whole and its culture today. This visit was different. It was about silk, and I was determined to learn all I could.
My exploration began at the printing workshop of Brochier Soieries, a Lyon silk house since 1890.
It was a rainy Lyon day. A few of us waited in the courtyard, all visitors from outside France, as I recall, each of us having found our way to this workshop.
My only reference for silk printing was the museum in Como. This, though, was a living workshop.
The team’s passion for their craft was clear. They walked us through the process: the time, the labor and the precision it demands. Frame by frame. Color by color. It was inspiring to see a craft like this still at work.
We also learned how to recognize it. Printed by hand through a frame, the color passes through the silk to the back. An inkjet print stays closer to the surface. It was a detail I had not thought to look for. Now, it is one I seek out.
Here, too, one of my favorite materials was clarified. Velvet is a weave, not a fiber. The team was hand-painting a piece of it, emphasizing a sheen I could stare at for hours.
Frame by frame. Color by color.
The art of the hand carried through to the finishing. The team showed us a silk scarf with its edges rolled by hand in France. The French way rolls the hem toward the face, the printed side.
Leaving wasn’t easy. Later, I returned to the shop just outside the courtyard for a few remnants to keep as inspiration.
My friends had wondered whether the craft still lived in Lyon. It does, very much so.
— Aimée