Wisteria Basket

"Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side. " —Lou Reed

I like to refer to the wisteria vine in my backyard as La Madre.  In 2017 a gardener magically appeared and attempted to clear the wisteria from the back yard.  (I say magically because he only stayed a couple weeks before he disappeared.)   That was the year I made my first basket and I did a nice post about the whole process here.  I remember feeling bad about cutting La Madre down, but I tried to honor her by making her into baskets. I suspected a little vine might still be lurking beyond the fence, but I had no idea that nine years later she would reappear holding an entire tree aloft.

In 2020 I had friends over to make a few baskets.  I remember we easily found long strands of wisteria to work with toward the back fence.  I must have been stressed by Covid in 2020 because I only did a post of my basket on Instagram (swipe to see everyone's baskets).   

When a tree fell in our backyard this year, we got to see the immense strength, creative power, and resilience of the vine.

"It's said that the Wisteria Vine is a symbol of immortality...
resilient enough to thrive for centuries even if left forgotten."

― Adalyn Grace

Vine Harvest

This whole project began because a large tree cracked in half right behind our fence.  When I went to investigate the damage, I encountered hundreds of her slender, tangled arms holding the tree about eight feet off the ground.  I needn't have worried about destroying her nine years ago.  She is an unstoppable, creative force of nature.  It's almost as though she thrived after getting a haircut.  

"Wisteria is what happens when beauty refuses to be tamed." —AI

At first my nephew and I tried to cut some of the wisteria, but it was a little dicey as the tree was quite heavy and I worried about it falling on us.  Eventually our neighbor Joe and his son came over with their chain saw, and we were able to untangle the tree and chop it up.

This week, I asked George to help me do a little more cleanup.  The wisteria was still everywhere, but it was climbing up a hackberry tree and our baby goal was to at least cut it out of that one tree.  Here is George with the loppers in our wild backyard.

"We sleep, but the loom of life never stops,
and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down
is weaving when it comes up in the morning."
— Henry Ward Beecher

Ring and Rim

Below you can see the first ring I made from the vines.  I started working with this ring until I noticed something beautiful in the back corner of the yard.  It appeared La Madre not only wanted to impress me with her feats of strength, but also wanted to collaborate. 

The back corner is where La Madre was originally planted.  In the dark shadows I could see the vine had twisted itself into gorgeous braids.  It appeared she had gotten a head start on the weaving.  The strands were woven into intricate patterns no basket-maker could have planned.  I imagine her taking pity on me, laughing at my feeble over-under over-under designs, and offering me her help.  So George cut a section out for me and I made a new ring.  Below you can see the vine before I trimmed the leaves.

After I removed the leaves, I curved it back on itself to form a fairly wide ring for the rim of my basket.

"Beauty is what happens when wisteria refuses to be tamed."

(my twist on AI quote from above)

Adding Ribs

After making the rim, I started looking for thicker pieces of flexible vine for the ribs. Every piece of vine carries its own history. Some curved willingly. Others resisted. 

I think I had nine ribs by the very end.  You can see seven below.  The rib beneath my thumb turned out to be the most troublesome one in the basket. It resisted from beginning to end. Looking back, I'm glad I kept it. Without that stubborn rib, the basket would have behaved better, but it would have had less character.  

Weaving

The beginning is always the hardest part because the ribs still want to move around on you. 

It is best to weave a strand on each side to secure the ribs.  And then I added a strand right in the middle that helped secure the location of the ribs.

 
I probably should have cut the long ends of the ribs off sooner than I did.  They get in the way of weaving.  But I like to keep them until the ribs are nice and secure, just in case I need to adjust the shape by pushing them through a bit.

On a "regular" basket using store-bought reed, I probably wouldn't weave new strands in like I did in the middle as shown in the photo below.  Sometimes it can lead you to have repeating over-over, instead of over-under.  But on a natural basket like this, you start to learn that anything goes.

Also, some of the turns were too tight for my wisteria vine.  This was especially true on my "difficult" rib.  And when I would pull it tight, I would hear the snap of the vine breaking.  In the beginning I cut it and re-wove the new piece next to it for a couple inches.  But by the end, I just kept going.  Often there were thin, flexible fibrous strands that made the tight turn, and that seemed to hold things in place.  I felt like the vine was teaching me to let go and trust in the process.

Finished Basket

By the end, the basket was VERY strong and the weave was tight.  It didn't matter that there were broken bits here and there.  I just cut them off as close as I could and continued weaving.

Here you can see a top-down view.  Eventually, the white of the cut ribs will fade and not be as obvious.

Also, the green wisteria will fade to brown as it dries.

A few things I haven't mentioned that are helpful if you are going to try this: 1) Use a screwdriver or awl to help separate the vines as things get tighter. 2) Cut the end of the vine to a point to help ease the entry into tight spots.  3) Keep pushing the weaving to either side and adding new vines for as long as you can possibly stand it....until it is VERY tight and you can no longer squeeze in any more vines.  This may mean you have to turn back around before you reach the rim to fill the wide spaces that are looser on the bottom.

Up Close

As you know if you read this blog regularly, one of my favorite parts of this work is the photography, especially close-ups, at the end.  Below are some of my favorites.

I love that you can see the natural braiding of the wisteria vine around the rim of the basket.  Interestingly, my favorite part of the basket wasn't something I created. It was the section the wisteria had already woven for itself.

I thought about cutting this white nubbin off, but in the end I liked that it became a focal point for this side of the basket.

As you can see below, the weaving wasn't perfect, but it really didn't matter in the end.

I particularly liked the photo below.  It shows just how rough the texture was and although it will fade, I love the green.

The photo below shows the messiest part of the weaving.  But this is the quirky nature of natural basketmaking.

I super-loved the change in direction of the vines in the photo below.  It was a contender for the lead title photo, but the background didn't offer as much contrast to the type. 

Hanging Basket

  Once I was finished weaving I tied three strings to the basket.

Below is a video that condenses two days of work into 90 seconds.  Turn on your volume! (Music by Tunetank from Pixabay).

I ended up adding a hosta to the basket just for the photos.

After the photo session I had to take it out because, although a tree falling instigated this project, I made it for another reason altogether.  I made it for my friend Tiffany's birthday.  Tiffany used to live in Cincinnati, but moved to New Hampshire.  So I didn't think the hosta would ship very well.  If there was ever a person who would appreciate a creative gift a little on the wild side made by La Madre and me, it is Tiffany.  If I had to describe Tiffany in one word, it would be "maker."  She is currently working in glass and has been making tiny glass octopi and encasing them in a marble.  They are fantastic!  

Conclusion

As always, at the end of every project I like to look back and see what I learned.  And for this project it is fairly obvious.  This basket was good practice at helping a rule-following neat-freak loosen up a bit.  Although I like to think I can embrace imperfection, if I am honest, I really don't like it.  It took some restraint not to cut off the weird potato spud ending that poked out of the basket on one side.  And not only did I not cut it off, but I actually came to appreciate it as the focal point on one side! To me this is a sign that maybe my perfectionist knot is loosening up a bit.  I don't think anyone would describe my aesthetic as loosey-goosey, but I think it's safe to say this basket is on the wonky, wild side of things.  As I wove this basket, La Madre was weaving me at the same time.  As she put me through her turns, she was showing me how accepting things as they are is not some kind of punishment.  But that the places that don't go according to plan can become the most interesting part of the whole kit and caboodle.  Maybe beauty isn't found in trimming away every stray tendril.  Maybe it lives in the wildness itself.  After all, La Madre isn't the only one with a few unruly strands. 

To weave everything together, in closing I would like to wish Tiffany a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!  And encourage anyone reading this to get out there and do your creative thing!  Channel your inner Madre and be a creative force in this world.  Make your tiny glass octopi and your imperfect vine baskets...because if not you, then who?

“This is the crux of being a Creative Mother...
It is about the act of living authentically
whilst honoring your mother self and creative self.
About saying yes to life, every part of your life,
and finding how to weave them all together.”

― Lucy H. Pearce