My first foray into basket making started innocently. I found a kit at a craft fair, consisting of nothing but a needle, a folded page of instructions and reams of raffia dyed in an ombre blue-grey. The picture on the front of the box showed a woven pot housing a rubbery succulent. The instructions were simple and I quickly found myself in a methodical rhythm, a coil of raffia slowly growing, curving, taking shape under my fingers.
All of this happened before I spoke to Cassie Leatham, a Taungurung master weaver. I suspect it is how many people under 21st-century capitalism go about learning a craft as old as basket making. But it was in speaking to Leatham that I began to think there may be a more considered way to go about it.
