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Iliomar - meaning ‘House of Stone’ - is an Administrative Post in the Lautém municipality. It is nestled amongst wild bushland and rugged mountains on the south coast at the eastern tip of Timor-Leste.
Amidst the drystone walls and undulating hills, the whispers of the Makalero language echo among 7,000 people across the six villages. Although considered disadvantaged, life is calm here and Iliomar’s strengths and riches lie in community and culture.
Legend tells of ancestors from another land crossing the sea to settle in Iloimar’s highlands. This tale is preserved through song, dance, and ritual, honouring the ancestors and their role as permanent cultural bridges between generations.
These two tais kaben (wedding tais) were woven over 80 years ago, the tais nunukala for the bride (Bui Mah) and the Tais Naeleki for the groom (Watu Lae). They symbolise their union and the socio-cultural traditions upheld through marriage which strengthen the bonds of kinship and foster unity.
These tais were lent to ETWA by Balbina da Conceição. Born in the 1960s, Balbina is a war widow and highly decorated for her contribution to the resistance. This accentuates their symbolic link to Timor-Leste’s journey of resistance and independence.
Lospalos is difficult to reach, owing to the poor roads and mountainous terrain that separate it from the capital, Dili. Lospalos and the surrounding villages are home to the many weavers that form the LO’UD cooperative, whose distinct textiles feature in this exhibition.
Traditional tais (ti-eesh) play a central role in rituals to celebrate birth, in the traditional rite of marriage, and honour the dead. In 2021, tais were added to UNESCO’s List of Intangible Cultural Heritage in Need of Urgent Safeguarding. Undoubtedly, this elder weaver played a role in preserving weaver culture.
Señora Alda da Costa was born in Portuguese Timor during the 1930s. For five decades, she wove exquisite traditional tais until her sight dimmed in her mid-70s.
Weaving is a communal ritual, wrapping generations of women in a cultural embrace. Elder women are respected and often called Abo Feto once they have grandchildren. Alda’s eldest daughter, Marcelina, was born in 1962 and grew up learning the art of weaving. With guidance from Abo Feto Alda, she absorbed its
mysteries and passed them on to her five daughters.
Weaving involves two sets of threads, the vertical warp threads and the horizontal weft threads. With two sets of simple threads, skilled weavers - like Alda and Marcelina - create hundreds of complex designs and motifs.
In 2005, Marcelina founded the Lospalos Weaving Group. Her life is one of resistance and resilience. She spent a decade in the forest during the occupation, where she met and married her husband Laletek, one of resistance leader Xanana Gusmão’s bodyguards.
Marcelina da Costa still masterfully leads the Lospalos Weaving Group and lives with her husband in Lospalos.
Steeped in an oral tradition, the methods and techniques for weaving tais, as well as the designs and motifs that adorn them, are passed down through generations of women. Older women are revered for their wisdom and knowledge in tais production.
Leaving only months before the collapse of Portuguese rule, and the pending invasion by Indonesian forces, Brière’s photographs captured a unique and more peaceful time in history. Later motivated to draw the world’s attention to the plight of the Timorese people, Brière and her photographs became synonymous with the worldwide solidarity campaign for a free Timor-Leste.
Leaving only months before the collapse of Portuguese rule, and the pending invasion by Indonesian forces, Brière’s photographs captured a unique and more peaceful time in history. Later motivated to draw the world’s attention to the plight of the Timorese people, Brière and her photographs became synonymous with the worldwide solidarity campaign for a free Timor-Leste.
Leaving only months before the collapse of Portuguese rule, and the pending invasion by Indonesian forces, Brière’s photographs captured a unique and more peaceful time in history. Later motivated to draw the world’s attention to the plight of the Timorese people, Brière and her photographs became synonymous with the worldwide solidarity campaign for a free Timor-Leste.
Tais are often worn layered to keep dry and warm, particularly in the mountainous regions where temperatures can drop significantly during the monsoonal wet season.
This tais, with its bright and bold patterned section, holds a tangled story of tradition, tragedy and survival. Woven by Juana dos Reis (1940s - 2023) in Iliomar in 1970s Portuguese Timor, it reflects a time when life was simple and steeped in lore. But in 1977, her life drastically changed.
The Portugese had first settled in the region in the early 16th century. In 1702, they established a colony known as Portugese Timor. In 1975, Indonesian president Suharto, a former military officer, invaded Portugese Timor, annexing the region the following year.
In 1977, Juana’s life drastically changed. Joining thousands of others escaping aerial bombardments, Juana fled her village, taking this exquisite tais. She walked the long and arduous journey to the sacred lands in the shadow of Foho Matebian, the ‘Mountain of Spirits’, and suffered greatly for two years before returning to Iliomar.
Over the 24-year conflict, 31% of the Timorese population perished, with most deaths between 1977 and 1979. By then, the military thought the resistance would be nothing more than a few guerrillas who would die out in time. They were wrong.
Juana sold this tais in 2004 for a fraction of its value because poverty was rife in post-occupation Iliomar, a situation that remains a challenge for some communities today. This tais is now held custodially by ETWA for safekeeping.
The intricate and complex floating warp technique known as meli-meli is extensively used by Iliomar weavers to create designs such as flowers and letters. The warp is wound with two or more colours to create a contrasting pattern.
Fine sticks are strategically inserted, and certain warp threads are lifted to determine the desired pattern. This allows the warp threads to float on top of the cloth. The sticks are lifted and moved along the textile during the weaving process to create the pattern.
A rare photo that shows resistance fighters and families living in the jungle surrounding Mount Matebian, the ‘Mountain of Spirits’.
Doña Marcelina was born in her beloved village of Fuat in 1965. A courageous revolutionary and visionary, Doña is a respectful title used here to demonstrate Doña Marcelina’s esteemed place in her village. In honour of her contribution to the independence struggle, her grave takes pride of place next to a small, sacred building constructed by the community to honour the many heroes of national liberation from Fuat.
Women are deeply entwined with weaving in body, mind and spirit.
Weavers use simple hand-carved tools that are their most treasured possession. Not only do they help the women interlace threads but they also connect them to their craft.
The tais is the combined work of two strong women, Doña Marcelina (who used the nom de guerre, Bui Doli) and her mother. It embodies an incredible story of survival, loyalty, and love. The cotton was spun by her mother as they fought for cultural sovereignty during the occupation. Mourning her mother’s death, Doña Marcelina hand-dyed the cotton, tied the futus and interwoven memories of struggle and hope.
With clever, work-worn hands, and enormous inner strength, Marcelina’s 22 years with the resistance movement underpinned her commitment to the empowerment of women, and her competence as the leader of LO’UD’s Fuat village weaving group.
Although Doña Marcelina did not learn to read and write, she did not perceive this as a disadvantage. Instead, as a natural philosopher, she wrote words in her heart and shared her ideas and knowledge with others.
Doña Marcelina passed away in 2014 after a long illness. This exhibition is dedicated to her memory and legacy.
Mana Christina sits on the compound earth floor of her home to weave, with no electricity. The only light available is from the door outside.
I wove this tais and wove in the names of all the victims of the massacre in Dili on 12 November 1991. When it touches my body, I’m overwhelmed with sadness. I remember the way those young people lost their lives for our nation.
Veronica Pereira Maia, 1996
The stations of the cross are reenacted throughout the Timorese countryside during the Easter rites. Timorese have a strong Catholic belief system stemming from centuries of Portuguese colonisation.
The Catholic faith is interwoven with the Timorese belief system of Adat (scared ceremony). A statue of Our Lady of Fatima is adorned in tais and stands on an elevated platform in a hand-made shrine on the outskirts of Lospalos. Locals visit, pray for peace, and seek blessings and protection from Our Lady Fatima.
Timor-Leste seems to artfully balance its traditional ancestral Lulik philosophy with Roman Catholicism, brought to Timor-Leste by the Portuguese in the 1600s. This harmony is evident in its architecture, totems, statues, and tais.
Lulik philosophy is the spiritual foundation of life in Timor-Leste. It governs relationships between people, and people and nature, and traditional tais re????ect its customs.
Weavers use a visual language to preserve and transmit ancestral beliefs. Rules govern the names of specific tais and design elements are drawn from the natural, cultural and social worlds, creating a language that carries and enables the transmission of deep traditional practices, beliefs and knowledge. Over time, Catholic symbols were also incorporated into tais, refecting the Timorese’s adoption of the Catholic faith.
Despite having no resident priest until 1999, Father Louis Preto visited Iliomar monthly. He often conducted mass for resistance fighters in the jungle. The church’s role as a sanctuary, protector and fierce advocate was instrumental in Timor-Leste’s independence struggle.
Making futus is like tie-dyeing. Dry grasses or twine are used to tie designs onto threads in preparation for the resist dye process. The futus threads are then combined with other threads in preparation for weaving.
Here, the futus is being tied to create the Puilouk symbol, which represents women and celebration. ‘Pui’ is woman, and ‘Louk’ refers to women’s traditional dancing and drumming. This symbolises the bride’s knowledge of cultural ceremonies and rituals.
Domingas Sanches weaving a tais with a strand panel of a section of orange futus.
Four generations of women sit around the weaving loom that takes pride in place in Doña Marcelina’s home.
In the late 1970s, under a strategic settlement plan, the Indonesian military moved the village of Fuat from its fertile sacred lands for close monitoring. Many believe this created a deep spiritual trauma for this small community.
When troops withdrew in 1999, they destroyed more than 90% of infrastructure, including crops and water sources. The challenges of severe poverty soon overshadowed the optimism of independence, and Berta Lourdes sold this tais a few years later.
Berta was a Master Weaver. She survived colonialism and occupation and saw the birth of a nation. With an eye to her family’s future, she applied her weaving skills and joined the Fuat village weaving group in 2005.
Complex and exacting methods created this bold and beautiful tais. Her deep commitment to her family and community resonates in the intensity of colour in the hand-dyed cotton, her empowered spirit in the pink, floral futus, and her strength and resilience in the boldness of the border.
Hand-weaving is a time-intensive process that can take weeks or even years.
Warp Preparation
Weavers collaborate to wind cotton into balls, loop it around a warp frame, and tie threads together for new colours. The frame length determines the tais length. A string heddle is added to alternate warp threads before transferring them to the loom.
Weaving
The warp threads are secured at the top of the loom, and the weaver uses a backstrap to adjust the tension by leaning forward or backward. Weaving a simple tais can take up to two weeks, with more complex designs requiring additional time.
Olinda da Cruz and her daughter Ilda are staunch defenders of traditional culture. For them, the independence struggle was a fight for cultural freedom, for being Timorese.
The 1980s were difficult for Olinda’s community. The local military and associated militias suppressed cultural practices, and created fear, targeting anyone thought to support the resistance.
Olinda’s husband was betrayed, arrested, and imprisoned in 1983. For Olinda, weaving was a form of resistance, a daily act of defiance, survival and love.
Ilda is Olinda’s first child. She learned the art of weaving from her mother, as well as the legends, songs, and traditions that define their culture. Every thread symbolised the preservation of
Timorese identity.
The experience of occupation taught Ilda the value of human rights and leadership, how to navigate complex challenges, and the importance of unity and mobilisation. In 2013, Ilda became the leader of the LO’UD Cooperative.
Together, Ilda and Olinda ensure their cultural traditions remain vibrant for future generations through the LO’UD Cooperative. This worn and faded tais represents their love and determination.
During the occupation, the large East Timorese diaspora in Melbourne would regularly gather together as a community in order to keep their cultural practices alive. More than two decades after the country’s independence, the city’s Timorese community continue to meet and celebrate with pride their Timorese culture.
‘I’m the oldest of 11 children but the family is scattered everywhere ... I want to go back when East Timor becomes independent ... maybe the day I’ve longed for, when I’m with family again and we can live and speak freely, will soon be here.
Maria Alice Florindo, 1997
This tais was woven by Luciana Miranda during the 1990s, the challenging final decade of the occupation.
In October 1999, exiled guerrilla leader Xanana Gusmão returned to his liberated homeland and addressed thousands of Timorese, who wept cathartically, cheered, and roared, ’VIVA!’
‘We fought for this sacred land,’ Gusmão declared to the crowd. ‘We have shown the whole world ... we have shown ourselves that we had the courage to fight for independence.’
Timor-Leste’s independent Commission for Reception, Truth and Reconciliation (CAVR) wrote in their 2005 report that self-determination was fundamental to the struggle, because:
‘ ... it is a collective right of a people to be itself. The struggle to enjoy this right above all others was the central defining issue. The people of Timor-Leste made extraordinary sacrifices to realise this right. It was essential to the survival, identity and destiny of Timor-Leste.’
Threads of sacrifice, the pursuit of freedom, the finality of victory, and profound celebration, this tais embodies Timor-Leste’s journey to cultural sovereignty.
Women performing a tebedai, a traditional women’s dance accompanied by the local shoulder drum, the babadok. It is performed during customary events and official ceremonies, such as flag raising, church events and to welcome special guests.
This series of images depict the third anniversary of the inauguration of the New Adat House of Fatuhada - Viqueque (Uma Lulik Fatioan) in memory and honour of Dom Mateus da Costa Rangel Sarmento Pinto.
Dom Mateus was the Brigadier-Regent of Viqueque in the late 19th to early 20th century, during the period the country was a Portuguese colony. He passed away in the capital of Dili on 27 January 1906.
Local East Timorese girls perform a traditional dance at the transition ceremony from INTERFET to UNTAET. The UN estimated that 98.6% of East Timor’s 438,000 registered voters took part in the referendum, with another 13,000 voting overseas. An overwhelming 78.5% of voters rejected the proposal of a ‘special autonomy’ with Indonesia and voted for independence.
Dili burns as a displaced man (out of picture) pushes a cart with a small child on board along a street.
Following the announcement of the pro-independence ballot result in September 1999, the pro-Indonesian militia launched a campaign of arson, murder and destruction.
Dili burns as an Australian Light Armoured Vehicle (ASLAV) drives through a Dili street on patrol, past burning buildings set ablaze by either the Indonesian military or the pro-Indonesian militia.
On 20 September, the first Australian troops were deployed to East Timor as part of the International Force for East Timor (INTERFET), an Australian-led international mission to bring peace and stability to East Timor under the United Nations mandate.
‘Letefoho sits in the west of Timor-Leste and nearer the Indonesian border where pro-integration forces were more entrenched. By the close of polling in the referendum, two UN staff had been murdered at the nearby Gleno polling centre and the first houses were burning.
In Timor-Leste, solidarity is deeply rooted in culture in daily life, and people come together to work for the common good of their villages. This is exemplified in this tais and one of the key tenets of the independence struggle, solidarity.
Woven by Aunty Sabina as a gift for Balbina da Conceição, it wrapped her in hope during her 16 difficult years with the resistance movement. As she struggled, activists, human rights groups, and some churches and governments provided international solidarity.
A continuum of resistance was created, linking the resistance inside the country with Indonesian and Timorese students demonstrating in Jakarta, protest actions across Melbourne and elsewhere in Australia, and countless letters, protests, boycotts, and media attention worldwide.
Solidarity and hope were fundamental to the movements inside and outside Timor-Leste. In January 1999, months after President Suharto’s fall, the new Indonesian President, B.J. Habibie, called for a referendum. And the people voted.
As José Ramos-Horta, Timor-Leste’s inaugural Minister of Foreign Affairs, proudly declared upon receiving a Nobel Peace Prize in 1996, for his efforts to bring peace to the country:
Without the generous solidarity movement we would be even poorer and alone.
Western influence in markets and textiles has become increasingly apparent in Timor-Leste since its independence. Cheap imported clothing now sits alongside traditional textiles. Young weavers are negotiating the challenges of respecting tradition and culture in modern Timor-Leste.
This contemporary weaving, made with commercial thread, explores transformation adaptation through an unfinished textile fresh off the loom.
Traditional weaving skills provide endless opportunities for creative expression, as seen in the light filtering through loose and tangled warp threads, symbolising new directions in the craft.
The weaving process, with the interaction between warp and weft, creates spaces for adaptation and innovation. Balbina’s two-tone stitching, intended to separate and transform seven panels, reflects this creative intent.
Textiles are woven with a specific purpose, be it cultural, social, or income generation. The intent is important as it determines their sociocultural and economic value, though market prices often don’t align with their worth.
To address this, ETWA and LO’UD established a fair-trade framework in 2011 to ensure equitable compensation for LO’UD weavers. This framework counters the effects of low financial literacy, which often sees weavers sell their textiles below their value and sometimes even below the cost of the cotton.
(film created for AWM (Australian War Memorial))
ETWA and LO’UD’s collaborative cross-cultural journey is characterised by immersive learning, cooperation, laughter, problem-solving, and friendship. We are sisters.
Meaningful change emerged by ‘working small’ within LO’UD’s vibrant weaving culture.
This textile is an example of our collaborative design exchanges that created a range of traditionally dyed, market-ready textiles, and represents our 20-year partnership.
Woven by master weaver Olimpia da Cruz, after the cotton was hand-dyed and the loom prepared by may LO’UD members, it also reflects our friendships and deep collaboration.
Our partnership demonstrates that endless possibilities arise when two cultures join in recognition and respect of their unique contributions.
This photo collage features three dye plants traditionally used within the Lautem district of Timor-Leste. They are part of the larger collection of natural dye colours featured in contemporary LO'UD textiles.
In 2003, female resistance veterans from Iliomar, founded a cooperative in Dili, the capital of Timor-Leste. Like their nation, they experienced periods of change and challenge.
In 2005, they formed three rural weaving groups, and by 2010, when the UN withdrew, LO’UD was a cohesive organisation. The solidarity of their members never waned, and many original
members are still involved today.
This tais pailale is the collective work of many LO’UD women and is iconically Iliomar. It is a tribute to LO’UD’s resilience and unity. The bright, colourful threads and weavers’ expertise combine to
create a unified and stronger whole.
The string of Aipun Rusa - red roses - a design shared by women through the generations, represents the communion between the grandmothers, mothers and daughters of LO’UD.
Cultural reciprocity and kinship bonds weave the fabric of the cooperative’s journey. LO’UD honours and cherishes the dream of the resistance: of a free Timor-Leste where life flourished,
peace was restored, and culture thrived without fear.
LO’UD’s journey is Timor-Leste’s journey. Their experiences mirror Timor-Leste’s experiences, and their tais reflect the nation’s culture and spirit.
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Fuat Weavers
Lospalos Weavers
Caenlio Weavers
These are the daughters, mothers and grandmothers of LO’UD. They are committed to their craft, culture and nation.
