Why I Don’t Weave with Willow

I get asked this question a lot: “Why don’t you weave willow?”
It’s a fair question. Willow is beautiful, traditional, and deeply rooted in basketry. But the short answer is: it doesn’t fit my life, my space, or the way I want to work.

The longer answer is this.

In Ireland, you can’t really just buy willow in the way you can buy other fibres. If you want to work with it, you have to grow it yourself. Growing isn’t the issue—willow is generous that way—but everything that comes after is.

You need space to dry and store the whips. Space to soak them before use. Space to actually weave with long, wet rods. With a full house and limited room, that kind of setup just isn’t realistic for me. Willow demands a physical footprint that I simply don’t have to spare.

What I do love is the simplicity of fibre. I can store it neatly on a reel, take down what I need, and weave when the mood strikes—especially when I’m feeling a bit stressed and need the rhythm of making. There’s a freedom in that. No soaking tubs, no long rods leaning in corners, no advance planning required.

There’s also another part of this that matters to me: I like supporting other makers.

I don’t want to do everything by myself. Outsourcing my fibres means I’m supporting growers, spinners, and suppliers who specialise in what they do best. In return, I get more time to focus on creating, designing, and actually weaving. That balance feels right to me.

I think in the modern age there’s a quiet pressure to do everything ourselves — to grow it, harvest it, process it, master it, and prove we’re “authentic” by carrying it all alone. But I don’t believe that’s the only, or even the healthiest, way to make. There is safety, community, and growth in sharing the work. In relying on each other’s skills. In letting growers grow, suppliers supply, and makers make. For me, weaving is richer when it’s part of a wider network rather than a solitary pursuit.

I do love foraging, and I do it in my own time, for pleasure and connection rather than production. But there simply wouldn’t be enough quantity—or consistency—to sustain a living. And that’s okay. Not everything we love has to be scaled up or monetised.

So it’s not about disliking willow. I admire it deeply, and I admire the people who work with it well. It’s just about choosing materials that fit my reality, my values, and the way I want my days to feel.

And for me, that choice keeps weaving joyful.