“I worked hard for my happiness”

I was born in 1993 in the Indigenous community of Casillas in the Humahuaca department of Argentina, and I grew up with two brothers and two sisters. I came into the world surrounded by wool, yarn, and looms. From an early age I watched my parents weave. I absorbed this knowledge naturally, almost without noticing. It was just our everyday life.

According to an Andean worldview, textiles are non-human beings that form part of the family and the community. They communicate feelings and tell stories — they are like a written chronicle that records people’s life paths and their connections. They are also proof of our most important bond: the one with the earth and other spiritual beings.

My parents devoted themselves to weaving, yet it was always clear — at least in my family — that another profession would be a better choice. They sent us to school because they believed that through education we could have “a better life”.

I chose a profession connected to a different way of thinking, one that felt foreign to me: teaching. Over time, I unlearned the importance of the Andean cosmovision for our lives, even though I considered it my family’s greatest treasure.

“Weaving is an ancient technique that is slowly disappearing”

Back then, I often couldn’t find the words for what I wanted to say. English, which I'd opted to teach, felt like a limitation. When I began my first job, I realised I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the school system, the way teachers stand in front of students, the whole structure. It made me reflect on what I truly wanted in life. I eventually completed my training but decided to devote myself to weaving.

For my family, this was not an easy decision to grasp, because that path was associated with poverty. But, for me it was clear. From that moment on, I focused entirely on it, just as my ancestors had.

Weaving is an ancient technique that is slowly being lost. I asked myself how we could preserve and revive the tradition — and make a better living from it. I decided to apply what I had learned about teaching and began giving lessons in Andean textile art to those who were interested.

I visited weaving communities, built connections, and shared my knowledge. I would teach them a stitch or a dyeing technique, and then they would continue to create in their own way.

In 2016, I founded the group Tejedores Andinos, “Andean Weavers.” Today, nearly 10,000 people follow us on Instagram. Through the platform, we can present our art and share our identity with a broader audience.

“Our mission remains the same: to inspire people while preserving our strong connection to nature, our roots, and the community in which we live.”

It has had an impact: in 2019, for example, the designer Benito Fernández took notice of us. Together we created the collection Ceremonia Sagrada, which was presented at Argentina Fashion Week.

Recently, I traveled to New York, where I not only sold all the textiles I had brought with me at a market, but also made connections that will help us continue our work. The days of work we invested, and the good news I brought back, are reasons to celebrate.

Our mission is to promote, preserve, pass on, and refine textile techniques through the exchange of knowledge. At the moment, my days are divided between my family, my five-year-old daughter, my own weaving, and the group I lead.

I continue to visit communities in Santa Ana and Caspalá—and once a month I visit my family’s llamas in my hometown. When necessary, I travel to other countries to present our textile work. There is a market for our kind of fashion.

Our work appeals to people who seek a lifestyle of sustainable and meaningful consumption. There is a growing appetite for products with a rich history, for items that endure.

We create unique, timeless pieces. Our mission remains the same: to inspire people while preserving our strong connection to nature, our roots, and the community in which we live.

In the Andean cosmovision, unlike in Western thought, nothing happens by chance. I see it this way: you must give a great deal, and what you give will return to you later — at the right time. The harvest does not happen  immediately after sowing; you have to work for it. That is also my path. I work hard for my happiness.

As told to Gabriela Cisterna