Cathy Kata sings a traditional song about bilum-making during a performance at Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, September 2009. (Photo: Dan Lepsoe)

 
Interview by Dan Lepsoe, 2009
 
DL: In many parts of PNG, people of all ages carry handmade bags- bilums- suited to their different tastes, activities, and backgrounds. What does bilum mean to you?

CK: There’s a song in my language that captures this. It describes a young girl going down to the riverbank and asking the spirits of the land to help her find the right kind of fibre. With their help, she finds it, then takes it home, prepares it, and begins to weave a bilum. When it’s finished, she’s ready to start a new life. She gets married with the bilum, and it carries her children. She weaves new ones for different purposes, like carrying food from the garden to feed her family. So the song really describes the importance of bilum to a woman’s life.

DL: Wherever I carry a traditional bilum here, most people seem to know where it’s from. How do they tell?

CK: Each culture has its own fibres, dyes, weaves, and patterns. The pattern most obviously identifies a traditional bilum’s place of origin.

DL: What’s involved in making a good bilum?

CK: The first step is collecting the right fibre. Traditional fibre here in the Highlands usually comes from a special root or the bark of twigs that we plant with bananas. It’s dyed using the juices of certain seeds and leaves. Strands are twisted together into a thicker twine, which is hand-woven into a bilum using a process called “looping”. The twisting and looping form a continuous process: once the twisted string gets short, more fibre is obtained and twisted into it to make several more metres, then more looping can be done. I sometimes use fur and feathers, twisted in with the fibre, to beautify a piece, giving it a soft feeling and a different finish.

In an acrylic bilum, good colour choice and tightness of weave are essential for emphasizing the design. In a bilum of natural fibre, where colour is less important, the twist and loop must be suitable to the type of bilum.

DL: What are these types?

CK: The two main categories depend on size. In my language, walg kubana refers to a small bilum with an attached handle, carried over the shoulder. Walg kupun is a larger bilum with loose handles. These are tied so the bilum can be carried over the shoulder or from the forehead. Walg kupuns are further divided into three kinds according to purpose. One is made for young girls to carry around. It’s decorated with furs and dyes. Another is bigger, made to carry a child from infancy to about two years old. The third kind has a larger twist and loop that stretches according to its contents. It’s used for heavier cargo, like garden produce and shopping.

DL: How have you developed as an artist?

CK: I started learning how to make bilums from my grandmother when I was about five years old. She also taught me the names of the right trees used for fibre, and showed me how to extract the bark and prepare it. I practiced and practiced until I got quite good, but then let it lapse as I got involved in other things, including sewing and tailoring. In 2000, I was inspired by an article on a fashion designer who had created a garment with a piece of bilum attached to the pocket. I thought, “Wouldn’t it be great to make a full outfit using our unique looping techniques?” So I started to make bilumwear. The first dress I did was for my daughter’s graduation from eighth grade. People at the event were amazed to recognize bilum in this new form. That inspired me to more complicated designs. Since then, I’ve participated in fashion shows and exhibitions in PNG and abroad. My outfits won first place for Miss Melanesia a few years back. Recently, I enjoyed a residency at the de Young Museum in San Francisco, and while I was there, I was able to talk about bilum to art students in LA and Santa Cruz. I look forward to doing more.

I have two groups of ladies who work with me: one back home in Mount Hagen, and another here in Goroka. I work with the best bilum makers from my community. It’s easy for us to work together because we’re all good at what we do. I begin garments according to my clients’ specifications, selecting colours, patterns, and overall designs. After the basic work is completed, I give it the finishing touches, and in the process it becomes a dress, shirt, or other garment.

DL: How is bilum changing?

CK: Highlands women traditionally made ceremonial aprons and hats using the looping technique, so bilumwear itself isn’t new, though we’re taking it in new directions using Western forms. There are far more fibres and dyes available to bilum makers today. Women’s imaginations have developed new patterns and designs, representing the things around us in terms of bilum.

Most of the patterns I use are traditional, though I’ve made some myself. Some come from mountains or special trees; others come from things I’ve seen. The two largest bilums I’ve made for Hailans to Ailans reflect the theme, incorporating materials from all around my country. The fibres and dyes are traditional, and the snack packet wrappers, well… (laughs). A few designs in this show represent games I loved as a child. Haka maka, for instance, shows the carved stilts with which we challenged one other to walk higher.