Weaving Resilience

This month, I am thrilled to highlight Lara Salous, the founder of Wool Woman, a Palestinian brand specializing in home décor furniture made from handspun wool. Lara's work aims to create a positive impact through design; her story and drive provide a window into the complexities faced by everyday Palestinians striving to preserve their culture and heritage. By collaborating with women in marginalized areas of the West Bank, Lara is reviving traditional craft techniques while supporting local economies. She sees her work as a vital thread connecting past, present, and future in Palestine. For Lara, wool is not just a material but a symbol of resilience, cultural memory, and connection to the land.

Read the full interview below:

Please tell us about you and your background as an artist.

I am a Palestinian woman based in Ramallah, occupied Palestine. I started as an artist, creating landscapes and portraits. I studied architecture at Birzeit University and earned a master's degree in interior design from Westminster University in London. After practicing architecture, interior design, and education for nine years, I realized that we are deeply disconnected from our inherited interiors and locally sourced materials. I decided to merge these elements to draw inspiration from Palestine, with its rich color palette and visual identity. I founded Woolwoman to blend different worlds of art, interior design, locally handmade furniture, and carpentry. In 2021, I launched my first wool stool collection for sale in a local gallery in Ramallah.

Could you tell us about your brand vision and why you chose to work with wool?

My main goal is to revive the tradition of wool making and usage in Palestine through art, design, and research projects. In my practice, I support local shepherd communities by building connections with them across various areas of Palestine, particularly in the south. I also network with women interested in spinning natural wool. Additionally, I aim to raise awareness about traditional Palestinian craftsmanship, which our ancestors relied upon for their homeware and agricultural needs. 

While my vision is for long-term impact, I aspire to expand the circular system of locally-sourced wool in Palestine, converting our large abandoned waste of wool that is burnt every year after the spring wool shearing season into sustainable production. I also want to foster a deeper cultural connection to our Palestinian heritage, regenerating the wool industry and empowering our local economy through artistic and sustainable practices.

Considering the situation in the West Bank and the scarcity of space and water, I can only imagine the challenges shepherds face in raising sheep. How are they coping? How has their situation changed over the years? 

Grazing sheep in the West Bank mountains and meadows has always been a challenge, even before the war and the increased seizure of land. Shepherds have long faced issues such as water scarcity, Israeli pastoral settlements, settler attacks, land confiscation, and the forced displacement of Bedouin communities.

In Palestine, shepherds from villages and Bedouin communities traditionally rely on locally made wells along their routes to water their sheep. However, Israeli settlers often destroy these wells, either damaging them or filling them with concrete. Before the Nakba, Palestinians didn’t need to buy water, as the land was rich with natural springs, artesian wells, and underground sources. Today, however, accessing clean water has become increasingly difficult. Many springs have been polluted by Israeli settlement sanitation systems, and wells intended for livestock are often damaged.

Another major challenge for shepherds is the direct attacks from settlers. These attacks involve poisoning and stealing sheep, burning Palestinian homes and cars, and attacking defenseless Bedouin communities, including their homes and schools. Night raids are common, making it even more dangerous for shepherds to graze their sheep.

Last summer, I visited five shepherds in Al-Mughayyer village near Ramallah, where settler gangs had burned homes and stolen livestock. The first shepherd’s home was completely burned, and we saw the devastation firsthand. His neighbor, Rakad, couldn’t graze his sheep for 40 days because armed settlers, with the help of the Israeli army, were stationed in the mountains, shooting at anyone who ventured out. Another shepherd, Rajeh, was almost 70 years old and in poor health. He could barely graze his sheep under such dangerous conditions. He told us that, in the event of an attack, he couldn’t run to safety or protect his flock. His newborn sheep had become sick from being confined inside his house for an extended period.

The fourth shepherd we met was about 13 years old. He and his family had been forcibly displaced from the south due to settler and army attacks. He and 20 other children had to leave their Bedouin school and had not yet been accepted into the village school to continue their education. In the meantime, he helps his father graze their flock when it’s safe. The last shepherd we spoke with was an elderly man who explained how much less land they have access to now compared to the past.

It’s also important to mention that, especially during times of war, thousands of acres of Palestinian land have been confiscated by the Israeli government to establish new illegal settlements. The expansion of these pastoral settlements in the West Bank has led to the further displacement of shepherds and their families and the loss of their land and livelihoods.

When visiting weavers in the West Bank, I fell in love with the beautiful woolen textiles. I realize that Palestine once had a thriving wool textile market, but now it's rare to find such goods produced and available for sale in the local market. Can you share with readers a bit more about the traditional uses of wool and textiles, as well as the challenges the sector faces today? Are you sensing a revival?

Traditionally, until the Nakba, we had a thriving wool industry that produced winter clothes, particularly menswear and jackets. This industry also extended to interior furnishings, including handmade rugs and bags. Wool was widely used in every household for mattresses, pillows, and blankets, which were beautifully embroidered and wrapped in locally made colored fabrics. Women would create vibrant woven braids for their hair and waists, and wool was used to hand-weave children’s coats.

Gaza was the main distributor of handmade wool rugs to other Palestinian cities until the first intifada, but today, only a few women in southern Hebron continue to weave traditional wool rugs. They are rarely distributed in the market. When I visited Hebron last time, I saw some old rugs being sold in the old market as people no longer used them. Unfortunately, this craft has completely disappeared from other West Bank cities.

Could you say more about your connection to wool and why you feel it's important to promote?

My connection to wool is deeply rooted in Palestine's rich, historical tradition of weaving craftsmanship. Wool carries layers of meanings. It’s not just a material but a symbol of resilience, cultural memory, and a connection to the land. I work with local wool because it embodies the stories of shepherds and women weavers who have been safeguarding these traditions for generations, even amid challenges.

One story that deeply touches me is that of the Palestinian Bedouin and shepherds in village communities. Their livelihood is directly tied to the land. All the wool they used to shear was treated and recycled into homeware and clothes for the cities. However, many of these communities are under threat from settler violence and displacement. In my project, I aim to support them by weaving their wool into art that tells the Palestinian story, drawing attention to their struggles and resilience. 

Equally moving are the women who inherited the knowledge of spinning and dyeing the wool by hand. Despite being distanced from the traditional craft for various reasons, they bring a deep sense of community, memory, and care to each thread. Through my work, I hope to help revive this craftsmanship, empowering them and re-establishing their connection to our vital cultural tradition. Wool, to me, is a thread that weaves history, land, and community together.

What are your thoughts on the relationship many have with traditional craftsmanship in Palestine today?

The connection to traditional crafts in the West Bank today is complex and layered, reflecting both generational shifts and the pressures of the ongoing political situation. For older generations, traditional crafts like embroidery, glass and ceramics making, jewelry, wool weaving, and pottery are deeply embedded in their identity. These crafts were once essential parts of daily life and community structure, passed down through families. For them, preserving these crafts is about holding onto a way of life that is rapidly disappearing due to modernization and the pressures of the occupation.

Among younger generations, the connection to these crafts is often more fragmented. Many have been drawn away from traditional practices due to the lack of economic opportunities and the challenges of political instability. The craft itself, while valued, can seem distant from their daily realities. However, there is a growing movement among young Palestinian artists, designers, and activists who are re-engaging with these traditions in new and innovative ways. They are finding ways to contextualize traditional crafts, using them as mediums to express contemporary practices, to maintain a connection to the land, or to use as a form of resistance to cultural erasure.

Given the tense political situation, preserving traditional crafts has a deep emotional and symbolic weight. Engaging with these practices is a way to hold onto Palestinian heritage. It becomes an act of reclaiming a narrative that the occupation tries to erase. For many, working with these crafts, whether weaving, spinning wool, or other forms, reinforces their connection to the land and to generations of Palestinians who came before them. In this way, traditional craftsmanship continues to be a vital thread that ties together past, present, and future in Palestine.

For more info about Lara’s work, please visit: https://woolwoman.com/