San Martín de Porres University, October 26, 2016
I’d like to thank my colleague and the book’s author, Cristina Gutiérrez, for inviting me to speak before this distinguished audience and the authorities of San Martín de Porres University. It is an honor to share my experiences with Lambayeque’s native cotton and textile traditions. First and foremost, I applaud Cristina’s admirable decision to launch her book in Lambayeque just days ago, celebrating the women artisans honored in both the text and photographs.
Naturally Pigmented Cotton
About forty years ago, the Peruvian cultural world was shaken when the National Culture Prize was awarded to Joaquín López Antay, a retablo maker from Ayacucho who had never painted a canvas. More recently, literary circles were equally stirred when Bob Dylan—a songwriter and performer rather than a traditional author—won the Nobel Prize in Literature.
In that same spirit of overdue recognition, we now hold in our hands a beautifully produced volume: Lambayeque: Native Cotton and Textile Artisanship. Enriched with Luis Miranda’s vivid photography and carefully edited by San Martín de Porres University, this book brings long-deserved attention to the region’s textile artisans.
Organic Cotton and Cultural Continuity
Together with Cristina, we pay tribute to the skilled spinners and weavers of Lambayeque—most from rural hamlets—who represent countless others before them. In their hands, voices, and hearts lives an unbroken Peruvian tradition.
Cristina, a passionate connoisseur of Peru’s textile heritage, calls us not only to admire but also to reflect. Her previous work, From Ritual to Fashion, declared that “textiles in Peru are as old as its civilization,” reminding us that heritage is not dead—it lives on.
My own role in this story is small. Others paved the way for the recognition of native cotton’s cultural value: explorers like Alexander von Humboldt, Antonio Raimondi, and the self-taught ethnographer Hans Heinrich Brüning, who documented Lambayeque’s textile legacy over a century ago.
The Concept of Native Cotton
Perhaps my most meaningful contribution was coining the term “native cotton” in the 1970s while living in Mórrope. It wasn’t a botanical or scientific classification, but a cultural one—to identify the endangered, pre-Hispanic cotton species still passed down hand-to-hand among peasant farmers and artisans, not traded in markets or by landowners.
These are rugged, beautiful plants—resistant to droughts, floods, and saline soils. Despite their ancient domestication over 8,000 years ago, they were often dismissed as “wild cotton” or “peasant cotton.” That linguistic oversight is now being corrected.
Fair Trade in Action
Once harvested, our cotton is purchased at fair, guaranteed prices above the market rate, ensuring financial security for farmers and their families. In both the mill and factory, workers—men and women alike—are paid fairly, with no child labor and the right to unionize. Respect for artisanship and humane conditions are foundational to our model.
Endangered Traditions and a Generation at Risk
For decades, native cotton was vilified as a pest magnet to commercial varieties like Cerro and Pima. Farmers and artisans were forced underground. Cristina’s meticulous fieldwork reveals the quiet heroism of mostly elderly women artisans—overcoming economic hardship, health issues, and scarce raw materials—to keep their craft alive. Many still refer to the fiber as “algodón del país,” unaware or unaccepting of the term “native cotton.”
The greatest challenge? Transmitting this knowledge to younger generations, many of whom are absorbed by the instant gratification of the internet.
Cristina records powerful, heartfelt testimonies from artisans like Susana Bances Zeña (La Raya), Petronila Brenis Farfán (Ferreñafe), Basilia Galán (San José), Rosita Farroñan (Huaca de Barro), Yolanda Llontop (Monsefú), and Dante Julián Bravo Calderón (Túcume). Their voices embody courage, commitment, and deep love for this ancient art of spinning and weaving Lambayeque’s native cotton.
