First, the washed warp thread is strung onto the backstrap loom placed on the ground, on which, with steady hands, a pattern is sketched. The thread is then tied with a string or straw so that certain sections resist the dye. Depending on the design, the tied thread is soaked in different dye baths; after which the bindings may be reorganised, and the thread is dyed again to form a different pattern. In the final stage, the bindings are removed, and the thread returns to the warp of the loom to be weaved.
“It is the complexity and mathematical precision of ikat that has always fascinated me. Even my diploma project at NID, Ahmedabad, was on the Telia Rumal of Chirala, Andhra Pradesh,” recounts fashion designer Rakesh Thakore, who, along with David Abraham, has proudly held the mantle for making ikat haute.
However, the atelier is not where Thakore’s love for the ancient weave developed. Instead, it was alongside the hunched artisans who toiled through the humidity and heat in the dim, tight spaces.
“I spent a lot of time with artisans in the villages of Koyalagudem and Puttapaka in Nalgonda (known for Pochampalli ikat). It was interesting to watch the weavers work out the design patterns in their heads and to be able to tie the yarns in warp and weft repeatedly with such calculated precision. And all this was in a weaver’s hut, where the rain would pierce through the makeshift roof or a wandering animal could easily break the yarns set up outside for spinning or dyeing,” says Thakore.
All this was in the ‘70s. It has been five decades since, and while ikat continues to be the muse for many global fashion designers—such as the late Issey Miyake, who collaborated with Thakore to develop the iconic black-and-white pattern—the ground reality of artisans remains grim.
Richa Maheshwari, founder of Boito, a high-fashion label highlighting Odisha’s textiles, including the Sambalpuri ikat, says, “Working conditions are often less than desirable and heavily dependent on good weather. This is particularly true among communities like the Gadabas and Habaspuri weavers, who set up looms in the open. Meanwhile, Kotpad’s Mirgan community use the largest room in their homes to set up their pit looms, but they are often poorly lit and have little ventilation. In addition, power cuts are rampant.”
While these challenges persist, it is ikat’s ingenuity that keeps it in vogue. “The fact that ikat's origins are not tied to a single place is a big part of what makes it so versatile and appealing for contemporary designs,” says Thakore, who admits to drawing inspiration from Rothko for his latest designs with leaf motif patterns.
Meanwhile, for Maheshwari, inspiration is in the craft’s fascinating heritage. “The oldest surviving fragments of ikat from Odisha were found in a 5,000-year-old Pharaoh’s tomb in Egypt, which is a testament to its artistry and desirability. What makes it truly unique is that Odisha is the only state practising curvilinear ikat instead of pure geometric patterns. Entire village scenes are tie-dyed on yarn and woven into fabric. These motifs are derivative of nature and are telling of their customs. Mythology also plays a big role; for example, the Nabagunjara motif, representing nine creatures, is unique to the Khandua textile and is believed to have been derived from the Buddhist weaving traditions developed during Ashoka’s reign.”
The future of ikat stands at interesting crossroads. While the weave continues to gain fame in the hands of conscious couturiers and demands soar , the fact is that the artisans are abandoning their craft to make ends meet. Echoing Maheshwari’s hope that the ikat’s revival benefits the ones who safeguard them, Thakore insists that the key to keeping ikat in the game is to “Elevate it to the true luxury space, where educated consumers realise the value and intricacies of this very complex craft and are willing to pay the price for it."