This March, we celebrate women in craft by stepping into the studios of inspiring makers and speaking with them about process, discipline and the stories that shape their work. We begin with Morta Jonynaitė, a textile artist whose practice is rooted in weaving.
Photo by: Vita Vilkeliškytė
One misthreaded strand in the loom and the pattern falters. This is why Morta’s studio is silent in the mornings. Before music, before podcasts, before the day fully begins, there is only wood against wood and the steady pull of threads drawn taut.
Setting up the loom can take up to a week: winding yarn onto the warping board, beaming, threading each strand in precise order. It is a process that demands presence.
Photo by: Vita Vilkeliškytė
What part of the process requires the most patience?
“I have to be very focused during the setup,” Morta explains. “I can’t listen to music or even daydream, or I’ll lose the count of threads and their correct order.”
The patience and discipline the loom demands did not begin in the studio. Morta’s earliest lessons in making came from her mother, who repaired instead of replaced. That is how she learned to value care over consumption.
“Looking retrospectively, it was a good lesson,” she says. “It taught me to appreciate what I’ve got, to take care of it and to consume consciously.”
As a left-handed child, crafts were not easily taught to her. The learning curve was longer. Perhaps that early friction, that insistence on finding her own rhythm, planted something deeper – an understanding that making is rarely straightforward.
Photo by: Vita Vilkeliškytė
What began as a practical skill gradually became a way of thinking. Though weaving is one of the most ancient crafts, Morta hesitates to call herself a craftswoman in the traditional sense.
How do you see your relationship with craft?
“I respect craftswomen deeply,” she says, “but craft as knowledge on its own doesn’t interest me. For me, it’s a system, a path with a clear structure that enables my thinking.”
For Morta, weaving is less about lineage and more about logic. The loom becomes a framework. Its rules allow intuition to take shape. And yet, through practice, Morta discovered that her hands carry a peculiar kind of memory, something passed on for ages.
If structure shapes the work, narrative gives it direction.
Lithuanian folklore, passed between generations and reshaped by time, moves through Morta’s practice as narrative inheritance. She approaches it not as aesthetic reference, but as mythology, something that evolves with each retelling.
Having studied abroad, she became acutely aware of how vaguely Lithuania is understood from a Western perspective.
“A story is the main driving force in any of my pieces,” she explains. “If narratives shift with each retelling, then telling them, with all their beauty and flaws, matters.”
Photo by: Vita Vilkeliškytė
The work, however, is not only narrative. It is physical.
Each new project begins with an abstract idea, often drawn from personal experiences, situations that stir joy or sorrow. Weaving, for all its quiet exterior, is physically demanding. Shoulders tighten. Wrists strain. Even feet carry pressure. Every morning Morta exercises to prepare for the day in the studio.
The romantic image of the disheveled, starving artist does not appeal to her. Eating well, building strength, preparing for exhibitions — these are not indulgences but necessities.
All of this preparation might suggest a practice built on discipline. But when it comes to the work itself, Morta resists the idea of completion.
When do you know a piece is finished?
“I don’t,” she says simply. “Completion suggests closure, and I prefer permeability.”
Irregularities remain visible in the work — slight shifts in tension, small errors that mark the process. Often working in white and pale tones, Morta allows time to leave its trace. Dirt, light, touch become layers. The work continues after it leaves the studio.
“The real encounter happens when the artworks detach from me and start speaking to others.”
That exchange shapes Morta, just as it shapes the work. For years after returning home, building an artistic practice felt solitary. Only recently has Morta found a community of like-minded artists. The exchange has strengthened her confidence.
“I feel less afraid to share my thoughts and their outcomes, in hope that somebody may feel less lonely as well.”
Weaving, for Morta, is neither nostalgia nor escape. It is a disciplined structure that allows vulnerability, it absorbs doubt, memory, and narrative.
Photo by: Vita Vilkeliškytė
The threads are counted, the structure is set and somewhere between tension and release, another story begins.
For more on Morta’s work and ongoing projects, visit her website: mortajonynaite.com
Photographed by:
vitavilkeliskyte.com
