Reinaldo Niño is the heir of a master weaver, who also gave him his name. Perhaps that’s why he emphasizes the fact that he’s Reinaldo Junior, not only to give full credit to his father but also to underscore that he represents a completely new and renewed generation, distinct from the past. He says this because the elder Reinaldo struggled with a drug addiction that controlled him for nearly forty years. Here is where the craft reveals itself as essential: it saved him. It was thanks to weaving that he was able to overcome such a tragedy, well into his fifties.

In this reinvention of his life, Reinaldo takes immense pride in being his son. Because once his father returned, he gave him the greatest life lessons. He said: “Son, with our hands we can kill and harm many people, but with our hands we can also create beautiful things, we can care for our children and gently touch our spouse, we can lend a hand to someone, and we can make these garments with beautiful threads.” When he recounts this, he can’t help but become emotional. And it moves us as well.

A look at his father’s history confirms this. Reinaldo Niño Sr. lost his mother at a young age, which led him, lacking sufficient guidance, to the streets. There, he discovered that craftsmanship would be his passion. His son recounts that, when his father was very young and already lost to drugs, all he was truly interested in was watching the looms at the Sena in the Kennedy neighborhood through the window. One day, a master invited him in, and he learned—oh, he learned. But the illness delayed his success, and despite opportunities to work with major textile companies like Tejicóndor and Lafayette, he was always let go.

Then one day, many decades later, a moment of clarity and a calling struck him. He realized how much damage he had done to his wife and four children. Finally, he shed what was blocking his joy. When there is true vocation, the lack of resources doesn’t matter, as talent and spirit will come to the surface. In a saving impulse, lacking raw material, Reinaldo Sr. unraveled old mops and wove blankets from their threads, which he began selling in the neighborhood. They weren’t fine, of course, but they were warm, and the city’s cold demanded something to provide a bit of comfort. Thus, he began to build a reputation that never stopped growing. He would tell his son that the threads enchanted him, and though they sometimes became difficult, they never fought with him, and with that same harmony, the beautiful