When you step into the Vimor Museum of Living Textiles, it’s like walking into a gentle conversation. There are live looms operated by weavers and the air is filled with the familiar scent of cotton and wood. The 1600-square-foot space is located in Bengaluru’s quiet, residential Victoria Layout. “The museum was a dream I held close to my heart for a long time,” says founder, Pavithra Muddaya, who has worked for over 50 years in championing India’s handloom heritage through revitalisation of lost and forgotten weaves.
The museum, which opened its doors in 2019, was conceived as a space for ongoing dialogue on the conservatio of craft and textiles. “For years, we’ve documented and admired the clothing of royalty. But our grandmothers’ handlooms and textiles are just as precious; perhaps more, because it reflects the everyday reality of the era they lived in.” The museum sits unassumingly on the first floor of its founder’s home — a detail I found especially charming. Perusing the sarees in a domestic, intimate setting rather than an institutional one really made me feel like I had walked into my grandmother’s closet. And there was more that these garments had to say than I had ever thought to ask about.
GIVING WINGS TO A DREAM
Muddaya and her mother, Chimy Nanjappa founded Vimor, a handloom saree brand in 1974. They began by retailing traditional handwoven temple sarees. Vimor has championed the revival and documentation of traditional handloom motifs and techniques since its inception, as Muddaya understood that these textile legacies would fade if they weren’t preserved. She credits much of her learning to handloom revivalist Pupul Jayakar and social reformer Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay — two women who reshaped how India understood its own craft heritage.
Their influence is visible in everything she does, particularly in her insistence that weavers are not just producers, but custodians of living history. The museum now features a collection of about 60-70 sarees that have been carefully built over decades of Vimor’s research and revival work, but also includes treasured pieces that have been donated by customers and patrons from across the country. “People started giving us textiles even before the museum began. I was interested in the connections that can be formed in non-academic ways, and often inspired to recreate these designs. It’s humbling that people are willing to part with these pieces that carry their personal history,” Muddaya says. The museum houses sarees from across India — ones with Korvai borders from Tamil Nadu to Tangalia weaves from Gujarat. The collection is rotated every four to six months, and in addition to sarees, the museum also displays blankets, tapestries and other textiles.
SPOTLIGHT ON CRAFTSPEOPLE
Muddaya’s relationships with weaver communities and their stories strongly influence her work. She engages with the Kuruba pastoral community on reviving the craft of their ancient Kambli blanket. Through her research on the Molkalmuru textiles of Karnataka, she was able to piece together the migrations of weaving communities across generations, and how this shaped the designs. “If a motif is inspired by a grain in a certain region, I want to know why. Agriculture, food habits, economic circumstances and climate conditions affect textile design choices as much as aesthetics, and that really piques my interest. Additionally, there are various cultural styles of draping and numerous purposes for which sarees are designed, purchased, and worn,” she says.
Her curatorial philosophy honours the stories and voices of weavers. There are different working looms on the premises giving visitors an experiential window into the process. The museum is open to visitors, and small groups can even attend weaving classes over a few days. “The biggest success for me is to have weavers from other cities visit us and witness their excitement at seeing a range of textiles. Some even dream of opening a museum in their village someday,” Muddaya says.
STORIES FROM THREAD
Opening a slim drawer of an antique double chest, she shows me a mulberry silk saree with flashes of gold. “One of the weavers gave me this saree with the Parliament House on it, surrounded by peace doves and the globe in the centre,” she points to this work of art. The border also has a repeating pattern of globes. “How incredible that over seven decades ago – a weaver – someone who would be written off for being less literate than others, would weave the idea of world peace into textiles as a form of self-expression,” she remarks. I gaze at the gold thread that traces this beautiful imagined scene. “His mother was mocked for wearing it at the time. So she tucked it away in her cupboard,” Muddaya shares. These stories remind us that our textiles are so much more than just objects of beauty.
Certain designs have been in the market for over 45 years without Vimor’s brand name because Muddaya believes in the democratisation of design. “I’m not against technological advancement. But I am insistent that individuality in craft must not be lost to repetition and mass manufacturing.” She encourages her weavers to put a little bit of themselves into the design process, believing that this freedom instills a sense of pride and confidence in their craftsmanship. “There was one weaver who would always add a flash of blue to the pallu. I found it to be an eyesore — too stark and jarring to fit within my vision for the piece.The weaver told me that it was his interpretation of the bright blue doors in Tamilnadu, I was able to appreciate his ‘bluemania’, and he even gave himself that moniker.
After two hours at the museum, I walk away with a deeper understanding of the conversations that echo within its walls. Between a mother and daughter who lead with kindness and compassion. Between Muddaya and the weavers and their shared language of cloth and memory. And now, between the museum, you and I, who can begin to understand and appreciate our own textile histories.
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