We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Doerte Weber. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Doerte below.
Doerte, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. What’s been the most meaningful project you’ve worked on?
The most meaningful project I’ve worked on is Checkpoint Carlos, a large-scale installation that explores the societal impacts of borders, particularly the U.S.-Mexico border wall.
Having lived in Texas since 1986, I’ve seen the Rio Grande Valley evolve from an agricultural region to an urbanized area shaped by policies like NAFTA. My husband, who is from McAllen, introduced me to the beauty and challenges of the border region, and I witnessed firsthand how 9/11 and subsequent immigration policies changed life there. People once freely crossing the border for work or leisure were now restricted, creating fear and economic hardship.
Growing up in West Germany, I was deeply affected by the Berlin Wall, a physical and symbolic barrier dividing my homeland. Memories of that wall resurfaced when I saw the U.S.-Mexico border fence. It compelled me to create Checkpoint Carlos to provoke reflection on how borders divide people and disrupt shared histories.
The installation consists of 11 woven panels forming 10 passageways, each 8 feet tall and 4 feet wide. Using colorful cotton warp threads and weft made from densely beaten recycled newspaper plastic bags, I chose materials that symbolized connection—newspapers inform us of both local and global events, and the contributions of community members who donated these materials embody unity. I wove these into traditional overshot patterns, grounding the work in history while fostering familiarity and reflection.
In 2013, I received a grant from the San Antonio Artist Foundation to realize the project. It was first exhibited near the border wall and later displayed at ArtPace San Antonio, where I expanded the woven background to emphasize its message. When plans arose to extend the border wall through Mission, TX’s Butterfly Center, we showcased the piece indoors and outdoors to highlight the impact on nature and humanity.
In 2019, I brought the work to Berlin to mark 30 years since the Berlin Wall fell. There, I cut a panel into pieces to symbolize hope for a future where borders are no longer walls but connections. In 2022, I exhibited it in Christiansfeld, Denmark, during a commemoration of the region’s democratic border change, where 99% voted for peaceful unification with Denmark.
This journey—seeing the installation resonate with people across cultures and contexts—has been profoundly meaningful. It couldn’t have happened without the many individuals who freely contributed materials, embodying the collective humanity the project seeks to highlight.
Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.
I’m a structural weaver based in Texas, specializing in large-scale installations that combine traditional weaving techniques with modern materials. My journey into the arts began later in life; after I visited Berlin and saw the Bauhaus Exhibit in 2010. I was deeply inspired by the women weavers of the Bauhaus movement. Despite having no formal training, they fearlessly experimented with techniques and materials, creating remarkable works of art. Their curiosity and willingness to embrace trial and error left a lasting impression on me.
After that experience, I immersed myself in studying their work, particularly that of Anni Albers, a trailblazer in weaving as art. I also enrolled in weaving classes at the former Southwest School of Art and began experimenting with weaving as a medium for storytelling. I started participating in fiber art competitions, eventually transitioning to art shows. Receiving my first grant in 2013 gave me the confidence to pursue this path more seriously.
My work is fueled by curiosity and a passion for storytelling. I love exploring new materials, techniques, and ideas, which resonates with people who connect with the depth and meaning behind my pieces. This year has been especially fulfilling as I completed several commissions, each distinct in its narrative.
For instance, I created 20 woven panels for the Kimpton Santos Hotel in San Antonio. The artwork abstracts the city’s history and is displayed above the bar. The project was a collaborative process involving selecting colors, working within the enclosure design, and adhering to tight deadlines. This commission taught me about stretching weavings over canvas bars and working with fabricators and installers to bring a shared vision to life.
Another commission involved four panels for a building in Dallas. The art consultant shared the client’s preferences, and they selected pieces from an existing series of mine. Due to overlapping deadlines, I adapted my approach, resizing and stretching the weavings over canvas bars for framing. This not only streamlined the process but also introduced me to a new method of presenting my work—one I plan to use in future projects.
A third project was a residency-commission hybrid for a hospital wall. Community engagement was a core element, with two looms set up in a public space—one for visitors to try weaving themselves. The final piece reflected the local landscape, featuring traditional patterns inspired by San Antonio’s flowers and rivers. It was also influenced by conversations with people who shared heartfelt stories about the care they received at the hospital.
Each project challenged me to grow, from managing collaborations and deadlines to incorporating community voices into my work. What ties all my creations together is their ability to tell a story. Whether abstract or literal, each piece invites viewers to connect with a narrative, creating meaning that transcends the materials used.
For those new to my work, I want them to know that my art is not just something to look at but something to feel and think about. It’s about weaving connections—between people, histories, and ideas. Whether it’s through large-scale installations, collaborative projects, or individual woven pieces, my goal is to create something that inspires reflection and fosters understanding.
Ultimately, I hope my work encourages people to see that what unites us is far greater than what divides us.
What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?
One of the most important lessons I’ve had to unlearn is the belief that it’s ever too late to start moving in a new direction. When I first began weaving, it was purely for the joy of creating. I never imagined that one day I would be creating large-scale public art installations or working on major commissions. At the time, I didn’t even aspire to such achievements. But through a series of gradual steps, those opportunities found me—and I found the confidence to embrace them.
I’ve learned never to say, “I can’t do that” or “That’s not what I do.” Being open-minded to possibilities, even those that seem daunting or outside your comfort zone, is crucial. Often, opportunities come disguised as challenges, and the willingness to step into the unknown can lead to extraordinary outcomes.
I’ve also come to understand the value of community and collaboration. Asking for help, consulting with other artists, and seeking advice are not signs of weakness—they’re pathways to growth. Throughout my journey, I’ve learned so much simply by being open to learning while moving forward.
The path I’m on today didn’t exist in my early years as an artist; it was built step by step through curiosity, adaptability, and a readiness to explore what’s possible. That’s the perspective I carry with me now: there’s always more to learn, more to create, and more ways to grow, no matter where you start or how late you begin.
We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.
When I first began my journey as an artist, I faced many challenges that tested my resilience. I was older than most emerging artists, without a formal art degree, and working in weaving—a medium that is still often seen as a craft rather than art. At the time, I felt like an outsider in the art world, struggling to find my place.
The hardest part was overcoming the skepticism about whether weaving could truly be considered art. My work, especially my conceptual pieces, was often dismissed as craft, and proving myself as an artist took years of persistence. I had to continually push the boundaries of my medium, showing that my work wasn’t just about technique—it was about telling stories, provoking thought, and challenging perceptions.
This journey wasn’t quick. It took years of persistence, facing doubts—both external and internal—before I could earn the recognition I now have. But what I’ve learned along the way is invaluable. I’ve made connections with so many people—some much younger than me—who have become not just peers but friends. I feel incredibly accepted in this creative community.
Looking back, I can see how these early struggles were vital in shaping my path. They helped me grow stronger and more confident in my work, proving that resilience isn’t just about overcoming barriers, but also about learning and growing with the people you meet along the way.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.doerteweber.com
- Instagram: @weberdoerte
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/doerte-weber-a23637134
- Other: thread: weberdoerte
Image Credits
PR photo to be used: Photo by Ansen Seale
1. Checkpoint Carlos, Brownsville , Photo by Ansen Seale
2. warp at the loom, myself
3. from the outside ArtPace, Photo by Ansen Seale
4. Opening, Christenfeld Denmark, Photo by Ansen Seale
6. PR photo Photo by Lori Gonzales
7. Fragmentation Exhibit, Photo by Ansen Seale
8. Kimpton Hotel provided from the hotel
9, Contemporay Exhibition, Photo by Ansen Seale
10. Global Warming, Photo by Ansen Seale
11. Two in One, Photo by Ansen Seale