1) Kevin Aspaas. Photo by Minesh Bacrania. 2) Indigo in the Wedge (detail). Created November 2022. Woven on vertical Navajo loom. Woven in the wedge weave technique. Wool (natural white and grey), natural dyes (indigo). Photos courtesy of the artist.
Ronald and Susan Dubin Fellow and Summer 2024 Native Artist in Residence at the School for Advanced Research (SAR), Kevin Aspaas, graciously agreed to sit down with me in his studio one July afternoon to share more about his work, his art, his roots, and his culture.
Born and raised in Santa Fe for the first nine years of his life, Kevin’s arrival was a homecoming of sorts. Before he was born, his mother moved here with some of his siblings so one of his sisters could attend the School for the Deaf. She raised her children and wove during the school year, while his father stayed behind in Shiprock to work for the power plant – an arrangement that echoed so many Diné (the Navajo people’s name for themselves) households of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. They returned home to Shiprock and Jeddito, where Kevin’s mother is from, for the summers.
A permanent resident of Shiprock since the age of ten, the 29-year-Diné artist and sheep-to-loom weaver, arrived at SAR on June 15, 2024 and was living and creating here until August 15, 2024. During his stay, he enjoyed the cooler weather of Santa Fe, the spaciousness of the Dubin Artist Studio, and the uninterrupted time gifted by the fellowship. As a full-time shepherd, weaver, family and community member, and occasional teacher, Kevin has his hands full with daily life and rarely gets the chance to focus solely on his art. Here he was afforded the time and space to reflect, follow his inspiration, and be with his creative process. With nothing to distract him, Kevin could be found working diligently from the morning till night most days.
He cited the space and setting as an essential part of his experience, in that it both facilitated and changed his creative process. The freedom and room to have all his tools, materials and projects out simultaneously allowed him to flow seamlessly from one project to another according to his inspiration, incorporating the playfulness and joy he so values. It’s of utmost importance to Kevin, that the act of creating not feel like work: that it not feel forced or too mental a process.
He much prefers letting his pieces and projects emerge naturally. Starting with a certain yarn or color, he lets them unfold themselves- an approach that sometimes turns out to his liking and sometimes falls flat. The project he proposed in his application for the fellowship – a five-year-idea, two-faced, wedge-weave piece – exemplified a time when the organic approach did not turn out as he’d envisioned. When we spoke, it was at a point where he either needed to start over from scratch or to continue, not knowing but hoping it would turn a corner. On the contrary, a secondary project of his emerged entirely unexpected. In an aesthetic that screams 1980’s, with its electric blues, purples and yellows, it was a testament to his “let it flow” approach, coming together with the ease that only spontaneity can bring.
In addition to these two pieces, Kevin engaged his weaving roots with belt-making. At the age of ten, Kevin’s mom taught him how to make belts – a form of weaving that he still prefers due to the fact that gratification comes more quickly (than it does when weaving a tapestry or rug) and to the association and memories with his mom.
Like many in the Navajo Nation, Kevin comes from a long line of weavers and shepherds. Traditionally an art form carried out by the matriarchs and other female members of Diné families and communities, Kevin is the only one of five children to carry on the practice of weaving. None of his sisters learned, except for the one he taught. That said, the tradition lives on through the many people in his community who weave in their spare time.
Sitting in his spacious studio, surrounded by his mother’s loom and his grandmother’s weaving tools, Kevin often found himself considering the reality of his ancestors’ lives and why they wove. For many, it was a necessity, a means of survival in a time when the challenges were many and the options were few. From the second half of the 19th century into the first half or more of the 20th, Diné women were both the nucleus and breadwinners of their families via their weaving. Much like in Kevin’s early upbringing: While the men went to work for the railroads and other industries, the women stayed home to care for the children and weave to keep their households afloat. Their weaving and the money it brought in helped protect the Navajo Nation from the pressures and threat of the U.S. government and ensured the continuation of their people and culture.
Aware of how integral weaving is to Diné culture and history, Kevin is as committed to honoring the legacy of those that came before as he is to passing the tradition on to future generations. Making it a point to teach his nieces and nephews how to weave as early as possible, he is also taking every opportunity to pass the knowledge along to other Diné youth. Earlier this year, he enjoyed leading a group of high school students in Ganado, AZ through a week-long weaving workshop. He found it impressive and fulfilling how quickly they picked up his teachings.
With shepherding lineages on both sides, Kevin always knew he wanted to have his own sheep. It wasn’t until three years ago, when he felt he had sufficient experience working with them and the right opportunity came along, that he incorporated this new role into his life and weaving process. Despite the hard work, and doubts of others, he finds the work highly fulfilling and meaningful. He says that getting his own flock brought the whole picture together and tied the practice of weaving back to the land, bringing him a new level of understanding and appreciation for the art.
Kevin raises Navajo-Churro sheep, a heritage breed related to the Spanish-Churro sheep brought to the Americas by Spanish conquistadores in the 16th century. Well-adapted to the terrain, they are prized for the quality and softness of their wool and their innate resilience and resistance to disease. As is common practice, Kevin takes them up to the mountains to graze and to escape the heat. Occasionally, he will lose a sheep or two to the wildlife, but he sees this as payment to the animal and the ecosystem as a whole.
Kevin also spins and dyes his own wool to produce the yarn for his weaving projects. Using mostly natural dyes from local plants and bugs, he carries out a bulk dying session two times a year with specific projects in mind. Rather than follow a precise recipe, Kevin opts for an experimental and unpredictable approach that results in a larger variation of colors and hues. No two dying sessions are alike.
Every step of the way, Kevin befriends imperfection, experimentation and learning by doing; an approach that has received some resistance and unwelcome feedback from friends and family over the years. Weavers of the Diné tradition, including Kevin’s ancestors, valued consistency and the perfection of straight lines and edges. Their livelihoods depended on it. The freedom to experiment and break the rules is a modern luxury they didn’t have, and one that Kevin fully embraces.
Grateful to be able to choose this path, Kevin recognizes weaving as more than an art. For his people, it is history, culture and a source and essential facet of community. For Kevin, it is a way of life and a sacred practice that connects him more deeply to himself, his community, the Land and the greater web of life.