Exhibition Insight... JamFactory ICON 2025 Aunty Ellen Trevorrow: Weaving through Time
IT ALL STARTED WITH A WORKSHOP
This reflection by Carly Tarkari Dodd honours Aunty Ellen Trevorrow’s enduring legacy. From learning to weave at Camp Coorong as a child to now teaching others, Carly shares a deeply personal story about the power of cultural connection, community, and the intergenerational impact of weaving.
WORDS BY CARLY TARKARI DOD
When facilitating weaving workshops, I’ve found that the comment, I learnt how to weave down at Camp Coorong with Aunty Ellen, is an all-too-familiar story among South Australians.
My family took a trip to Meningie when I was a curious 10-yearold, unaware of the journey I was about to embark on. I didn’t know that this one workshop would change my life forever. Dramatic, I know, but it’s true. I remember being guided through the camp, the museum filled with Ngarrindjeri culture – so many photos, paintings and woven pieces. I’d never seen so much of our culture in one place before. There was even a photo of my Pop in his football uniform. Everything felt familiar, comfortable.
On the last day of the trip, we went for a drive to pick the rushes. We learned how they grow and how to care for them and to take only what you need, to leave more for others and the next time you come around. Tall green reeds towered over me, and I was a little overwhelmed, afraid I might pick the wrong ones. But we were taught to pick different sizes for our pieces, both thick and thin. Dad’s cousin, Uncle Moogy Sumner, and Uncle Tom Trevorrow were also there, teaching the other men and boys that weaving is for men as well, and that in the old days they wouldmake objects like weapon bags.
I remember walking into a big open room, the tables lined with old towels, with bundles of rushes wrapped in them. Aunty Ellen was there, sitting at one of the tables, making a starter for us young ones. Her soft giggly laugh draws you in. ‘Hey bub, here’s your starter’, she says, handing me a perfectly stitched starter. As I sit down, I think, ‘how can I possibly do this? Mine is not going to look like hers.’ I give it a go and begin weaving with the wet green reeds, trying not to pull them too hard, otherwise they’ll snap, but also trying not to leave it too loose. The smell of the rushes filled the room, a scent that, to this day, remains the best I’ve ever encountered. Nothing compares with the raw, fresh smell of the oils from the reeds which have been soaked up by the towels.
I spent hours trying to get the stitches even; I remember stressing about not finishing the piece in time because I needed Aunty Ellen’s help to connect the handle. I enjoyed making the handle because it reminded me of making keyrings with colourful plastic Scooby Strings, which I had discovered around that same year. Elements of culture were everywhere; I just didn’t realise. By the end of that day, I had made a small, wonky basket with a handle that fits in the palm of the hand. I still have that basket; it’s probably the most precious thing I’ve made. It sits on the windowsill in my studio, a reminder of where it all began for me as a weaver. The imperfections in it are what make it so special. Growing up, I loved patterns. I would often fill the ruler columns of my schoolbooks with cross-hatching. Naturally, I was drawn to the traditional woven objects and the repetitive motion of weaving. My weaving has evolved over the 16 years since that first workshop. I’ve gone from working with traditional rushes to experimenting with materials like raffia, ribbon and fabric. I rarely weave with rushes these days, but on all the occasions I have, they’ve been with Aunty Ellen. A lot of mob don’t always have access to the reeds. I buy my materials rather than grow and harvest them. Being in the concrete jungle of a city, where there is a great deal of colour, has influenced my work a lot. Each year, I understand more deeply what it means to be a weaver, uncovering layers of meaning I didn’t know existed. At 25, I know I still have so much to learn. I look forward to the day I can share the wisdom and knowledge of being a weaver as an Elder, like Aunty Ellen. When I first started teaching weaving workshops, I would always talk about how Aunty Ellen taught me all those years ago, about how special she is. Without fail, there is always someone in the group who knows Aunty Ellen, who’s been down to Camp Coorong. It seems like everyone knows her. I’m at that age now where I’m aware of so much change in the world and in our community. I’m witnessing the early stages of a generational domino effect. When I see weavers teaching workshops, passing on culture and making such a positive impact, I realise how special that is. We can talk about how important it is to teach the next generation, to keep culture alive, but until you’ve seen it happening – until you’ve been part of it – it’s hard to truly understand its significance.
These days when I lead workshops, I often hear, ‘I was taught weaving by Sonya Rankine’, or ‘I learnt this from Cedric Varcoe’. Sonya and Cedric are continuing to share what they were taught by our Elders. Sonya learned from Aunty Ellen years ago, and now I can see how knowledge moves in these beautiful cycles. I am only beginning to grasp the importance of passing on our culture, how each connection carries our history forward. I have a few nieces and nephews now, and in recent years, I’ve started teaching them weaving and sharing our culture with them. I’ve even included them in exhibitions, letting them see firsthand what it means to be part of something greater than themselves. This experience of giving to the next generation has shown me that we don’t just keep traditions; we continue them, and in that continuity, we grow stronger.
JamFactory ICON 2025 Aunty Ellen Trevorrow: Weaving Through Time is showing at JamFactory Adelaide until 14 September 2025 and JamFactory at Seppeltsfield from
4 October 2025 - 7 December 2025 followed by a national tour.