Pandora's

Pandora's, owned by two local Santa Fean women, is in its 10th year of business, selling beautiful bedding and home decor items. Most of our pillows and bedding are custom made, whether by our local seamstresses, or tailors in Vietnam and Cambodia. We specialize in silks from Thailand, China, Cambodia, Vietnam or Laos and have many gorgeous quilts, throws, bedspreads, sheets and pillows.

Ayachucho

I breathed a sigh of relief as the puddle-hopper to Ayacucho finally accelerated down the runway. Its twin propellers strained, then laboriously lifted us over Lima, Peru's capital city. I’d been scheduled on the same flight the previous day but it had been cancelled, a common occurrence in the rainy season. Allegedly there was a break in the storm clouds and we could make the 2 1/2 hour flight before the onset of afternoon showers. I'd left from Cuzco a couple days ago on this Peruvian air odyssey.

Cuzco, is a tourist Mecca due to its spectacular location in the Andean highlands and its proximity to Machu Picchu. It receives around a million tourists a year, including me for the past two weeks. Consequently, there is an abundance of textiles and artisanal products for sale. These range from alpaca sweaters to wall hangings, socks and wood carvings to paintings, Shipibo embroidery and a general uncertainty among everybody about what exactly they are purchasing. Wool is often sold as “adult alpaca.” True alpaca will almost invariably be described as "baby alpaca," claimed to be the softest...and so on.

In that sort of environment, its hard to know if the price is fair and if the actual craftsman are receiving fair wages or if they are being exploited by Peruvian intermediaries. In an economy so dependent on tourism, many locals come to see tourists as cash hogs they must bleed dry ahead of their competitors. Consequently, tourists become wary of locals. Generally speaking, the wares on display in Cuzco are not made by the vendors themselves, especially the wool embroidery my mom was most interested in... and my mom is where this story begins. I came to Peru to find products for Pandora's, a shop she is part owner of in Santa Fe. This embroidery comes from Ayacucho, a city in the mountains that, according to my guide book, had been at the heart of the domestic terrorism troubles with the shining path guerillas and only recently opened to tourism. It was recommended as a pleasant city in the guidebook with some “authentic” Peruvian charm.

The plane ducked down through the clouds and took a sharp bank over a canyon, suddenly revealing the modest city of Ayacucho. The mountains surrounding the city were unspectacular compared with other parts of the Andes, but low lying cumulous clouds suggested that we were in the rolling hills of the high Andean plateau. The crisp, large skies we saw as we landed were reminiscent of New Mexico, however leaving the aircraft a foreign bouquet of smells dispelled the comparison.

Photo of Ayacucho landscape: Description “view from my hotel terrace”

After finding a modest hotel, I spent the first day walking the streets of downtown Ayacucho. Unlike downtown Cuzco, Ayacucho had a scarcity of tourists and was instead dominated by Peruvians going about their lives. The central square was filled with families eating ice cream. They were the ones doing the people-watching. Adolescent boys and girls awkwardly walked hand in hand in a big circle while their single friends trailed a safe distance behind cracking jokes. A row of women were spinning large metal bowls of some white substance on handcarts at one side of the square. I asked what it was,

“Helado,” one replied. Then laughing over her shoulder she rattled something off in Quechua to the adjacent vendor. They laughed good-naturedly as I smiled, probably looking sheepish.

“I’ll take one,” I told her in Spanish. Several other vendors began watching us. I shrugged off the attention though my vendor seemed delighted to be the one chosen for the sale. and moved on.

I wandered up a side street, contemplating my chances of becoming sick from the homemade ice-cream. After roaming the streets I had lunch in an outdoor market among stands of juice and ice-cream vendors, butchers, herbalists, and of course a colorful assortment of potatoes (which are indigenous to Peru).

I found a spot that sold artisanal products to tourists. Interesting, but their selection was limited...more a cultural display for the occasional tourist. The products they displayed were of mediocre aesthetic and technical quality. Women chatted in rented stalls while a few sat embroidering garishly colored cloth. American and European concepts of colors may vary considerably with those of the artisans in developing world countries. We prefer muted colors whereas they often like brights. While striking, they are colors we would never wear or display in our homes. Bright colors are generally made from synthetic dyes which are, with some exceptions, cheaper than natural ones. “...y los colores, de que son...son sinteticos o de vegetales.”

The friendly woman knew the question before I had finished asking it. Apparently tourists in these parts were keen to obtain “natural” vegetable dyes over synthetics. She smiled as she affirmed that they were all natural. I complimented her on her work and continued on. There was no question in my mind that she had lied about the origins of her dyes. I wasn’t offended by this small dishonesty. However, it highlighted my frustration with a system of exploitation which seems endemic in so many tourist destinations.

I mulled over this relationship between the tourist and the local indigenous vendor as I wandered back towards my hotel in failing light. It is probably easy to justify ripping-off someone that has flown a jet half way around the world to eat, drink, and have fun for a few weeks of “vacation” in the land you labor in for a lifetime. My interest however, wasn’t in judging. The lady and I are both part of the same dynamic. One that I wished to transform into something else.

Obviously, I wanted to find a sustainable source of high quality products at competitive prices. I also wanted to create long-term business relationships that preserve cultural traditions while allowing them to compete in a world market. Taking the occasional tourist for a few dollars for inferior products is not only detrimental to the purchaser, but I feel it is also detrimental to the vendor. They are not being rewarded for a marketable skill but rather condemning themselves to a subservient role in an unequal relationship. Their occasional victories are ultimately small and unsustainable. But how can you articulate this concept to street vendors who generally are not producers themselves and chiefly concerned with turning a quick profit?

If I really wanted to accomplish my goal, I would need to set up a reliable business arrangement with the traditional producers themselves. Intermediaries jack- up prices for the buyer and lower profits for the producer and tend to estrange the buyer from the producer. I needed to find the community of artisans that actually subsisted by producing these fabrics, then work with them directly to tailor their products for a market of sophisticated buyers in Santa Fe. Though I knew the producers couldn’t be far away, the prospect of seeking them out seemed somehow unrealistic. I eventually fell asleep in my windowless hotel room.

Waking to a rainy overcast day I set off into the foothills above town following a simple map provided by the proprietor of my hotel. After a half- hour walk, I came upon a square in front of an ancient cathedral. On the opposite side there was an arch over a footpath that said Asociacion de Artesanos, San Jose Sector, Barrio Santa Ana. The path was deserted due to the rain but I had found it! I passed through the archway and began to wind my way up through a grid of dirt footpaths. This was the elusive artisanal community that I had been looking for.

I paused to catch my breath. What now? Was I to start knocking on doors? It was a picturesque neighborhood but it was residential. No stores, no sites or activities, just dirt footpaths and people's homes. I hesitated a moment, ostensibly taking in the view but really feeling out of place and unsure of myself. Just then, I heard a wood door open behind me and I turned as casually as I could manage. “Buenos dias,” I said smiling. A man returned the salutation but seemed as uncertain as I felt.

“Desculpame senor, hay una comunidad de artesanos que hacen tejidos y bordados aca, verdad?” (Excuse me, sir, is there a community of artisans that makes embroidery here?)

“Si, aca hay.” Then he gestured to all the houses surrounding us. “casi todos hacen tejidos. Yo son un miembro. Quieres ver mi taller? Me llamo Julio.”(Yes there is, almost everyone here makes textiles. Would you like to see my workshop? I’m Julio) “Me llamo Aaron, con gusto,” I replied.

Accepting his invitation, I ducked under the low adobe archway into the courtyard of his home. Under a tarp he had two looms set up with yarn and half-finished works dangling from it.

Photo of Typical Workshop. Description “Typical Workshop (Taller)”

I explained to him as best I could in broken Spanish what I was looking for; that I was working for a store in the US owned by my mother; that it specialized in handmade fabrics from around the world for the purpose of bedding; that I wasn’t looking for a single employee who would try to horde our business but rather to work with the entire community, if such a thing was possible. He took it in for a moment, then assured me it was indeed possible.

I examined the products he had on-hand and asked him about the dyes. I was surprised to learn that even some of the very muted, earthy colors were in fact synthetic dyes as well. He grabbed a bundle of yarn and smelled it deeply before handing it to me, “eso, de vegetales” he said and then grabbed another bundle and inhaled and passed it to me again “y este es syntetico.” I did as he had done and inhaled the fabric. Sure enough, the vegetable dyed yarn had a mustier, richer smell and the synthetic smelled clean and sweet. I inwardly tensed a bit as he began pulling out a variety of his own creations. They were beautiful wares but I wanted to work through the community as a whole and feared he would attempt to monopolize my business. It felt a bit like a moment of truth. Was he going for the quick sale? Was he going to try to pressure me to buy something or had he caught my meaning from before? Could he see the long term? His naked 3-year-old son, toy truck in his hands, stared uncertainly as I examined the textiles and the man and I both considered our next moves.

Suddenly, perhaps sensing my discomfort, he blurted something I didn’t understand to his son who went scampering inside. Then he told me to follow him to be introduced to some of the other artisans who lived nearby. I breathed out slightly--one obstacle overcome. He didn’t appear to be following the typical pattern of hoarding business and going for the quick kill. Perhaps they truly did work as a co-op. I went to three more houses that afternoon, meeting other families and examining their looms and fabrication processes. They told me to come back tomorrow and I could meet with other members of the co-op as many weren’t available today. We agreed upon a time and parted with handshakes, smiles and gestures of good faith.

Photo of Artisan at Work. Description: “Artisan at work on loom”

The next day I met at one of the artisan’s homes and we walked together to the communal meeting place, a museum that displayed their craft for visitors. They had all chipped in to build it the previous year and it was clearly an object of pride and communal identity for the residents of San Jose Sector. After the last artisan had arrived I stood and nervously cleared my throat to give an introduction. “Al principio, me gustaria decirles gracias a todos a tomando el tiempo a conocerme. Me llamo Aaron Lenihan y trabajo por una tienda de telas en los Estados Unidos que se llama Pandora’s.”

After introducing myself and the store I explained what our shop specialized in and what I envisioned for future business relations with their co-op. I told them that we already carried high-end, handmade products from Asia, Africa, Central and South America as well as from artisans from our hometown of Santa Fe. I went on to emphasize that our customers were not only concerned with acquiring high-quality one-of-a kind products, but also wanted the story behind the products and a feeling of connection with the artisans from around the world that made them. Contrary to buying through a murky chain of intermediaries, they knew our products came directly from the artisans to our shop and that the artisans themselves had negotiated prices and were benefitting directly from the purchase. Additionally, I emphasized the importance of dealing transparently with the community/co-op as a whole so that the workload and pay-off was shared equally. This would help to ensure the quality of products, the timeliness of delivery and avoid feelings of jealousy and ill-will within the community. Nevertheless, for the sake of efficient communications, it would be necessary that they elect one or two members with whom I could communicate with and deal through personally.

Photo of Discussing business. Description: “Examining wares and discussing business in the ‘Museum’”

Strong lines of communication are also important, I explained because we would need to tweak their design elements to better fit the American market. I assured them that I was very impressed with the quality of their work and that I respected their artistic talents. Nevertheless, there were some crucial differences between the aesthetic tastes of our customers and the intermediaries that they were accustomed to selling to. Chiefly, color schemes would have to be muted, and subtle designs should be limited to flowers and abstractions and should generally omit certain animal and ethnic motifs. I then showed them some examples of the colors I desired. They assured me that they could replicate these colors with natural or synthetic dies. I explained that certain customers would be willing to pay more for vegetable dyes, however, we needed their assurance as to exactly what we were getting. To this end, I was put at ease with their candor and honesty in pointing out subtle differences. I was surprised at the earthy tones they could mimic with synthetics and the brightness of specific colors in the vegetable dyes.

Photo: Natural Dye Source. Description “Cochineal: Natural dye source utilized in Meso-America since pre-Hispanic era, derived from Woodlouse grown on prickly pear cactus”

I was genuinely pleased and comforted by the manner in which they had received my “list of demands.” On virtually every point, we could find a place to agree. They told me they were very excited by my idea and that they wanted very much to live up to the expectations of my shop and most importantly, the owner, my mother. I was surprised to see that it was the younger artisans that really seemed to be running with the idea. A pudgy, friendly looking member explained to me that they too desired to deal directly with the United States rather than going through intermediaries. He told me of how their father’s generation had tended to hoard foreign clients which inevitably led to unsatisfied customers and lost business. They seemed serious about working as a team. He explained that San Jose Sector consisted of 60 families utilizing 24 private workshops, each consisting of 2-4 looms (generally located under shelter in someone’s courtyard) and that they would do their best to fulfill orders as quickly as possible. I was impressed by how much business views seemed to match up. We were both of the younger generation and were going to take over and change the system!

Now that we seemed to stand on mutual ideological ground, we switched to a more practical discussion of packaging, communication, exportation taxes and hurdles. Finally, I left them to discuss in private the pricing for the various fabric dimensions and types while I accompanied one of the artisans to several other families in the co-op that specialized in woodwork and cotton tapestries. When I returned they gave me the numbers which looked reasonable. I told them I would communicate with my mother that evening to go over what we had discussed and their prices.

Photo of Embroidering: Description: “First background is created on loom, then it is removed and embroidered by hand”

Two of the members accompanied me into town where we inquired at the post office in regard to shipping considerations and prices as well as exportation concerns. That night I had a long chat with my mother on Skype and we decided to accept the prices they had drawn up. If they were to trust us, we would have to trust them. Initially, we would order a variety of pillows of various designs, some of our own specifications and others that afforded them greater artistic freedom. We could then decide which ones we preferred and commission larger pieces based on these samples. Unfortunately, they had no pieces of the specific style of embroidery that my mother most desired on hand that met our size or color specifications. Therefore, as a show of good faith I ordered several other tapestries of different materials and sizes. These pieces were beautiful and we felt there was a good chance we could incorporate some of these designs into our stock at a later date.

Photo of Tapestry. Description: “Tapestry of another style and method”

The next couple days were spent working out logistics and designs. I left Ayacucho with a sense of accomplishment and pride. Though there was still much work and correspondence to be done, it felt like we were on the right path, that my dreams weren’t mine alone and that perhaps we would attain them together. Things had gone so well that I began to question if this community was unique. Had I just gotten lucky, or were there opportunities like this one all over the world just waiting to be developed?

Photo of Ayacucho order with mom. Description: “Latest Ayacucho order and my mother, Barbara Lenihan, owner of Pandora’s”

500 Montezuma, Suite 119
Santa Fe, NM 87501
505.982.3298
www.pandorasantafe.com

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