Craftsmanship found Sandra through determination. She didn’t want to leave her children alone anymore. Sandra recounts how, as a Systems Engineer, she worked for several years at the Samaritana in Bogotá, and how living in Chía meant embarking on a journey that required her to leave at 4 in the morning and return at 9 at night. Until she decided enough was enough. It was tough, as she couldn’t find work in the medical field in Chía, and her savings dwindled until worry set in. Nothing seemed to work out, and every business venture ended in failure. Desperation took over, until it didn’t. To explain this, she points out a seemingly paradoxical phenomenon: twilight, as night falls, is the brightest moment in the sky. That’s how she compares her situation—a sudden intense light arose where there seemed to be darkness only.

In 2016, she saw an opportunity when the town hall offered a paper craft workshop. With nothing to lose, she enrolled. To her surprise, the workshop focused on an incredible skill: basket weaving. Immediately, memories of her childhood flooded back, when her grandmother María Luisa would stroll through the market square of Zipaquirá, her family’s hometown, surrounded by baskets. She marveled at them—big and small, practical for carrying everything. She recalls how they would pile onto trains, baskets everywhere. Instead of dolls, her gifts were little baskets she played with. that’s why she felt a calling and knew her luck would change.

With no money, paper was a readily available material; neighbors gifted it to her, and she found it discarded around. She knew the workshop hours weren’t enough to master the craft, but that didn’t deter her. She scoured YouTube for every tutorial she could find, practicing tirelessly until her hands became adept. Moreover, having previously moved to Toronto after university to learn English, she could immerse herself in watching and listening to masters from around the world—a habit she maintains because, as she says, you never stop learning, even now as an accomplished weaver.

Living in Chía was a fortunate turn that she now recounts with a grateful smile, as it was there that she found her true calling. Being from Zipaquirá and her husband from Bogotá, they compromised: if not here, nor there… then Chía. It’s a place where she finds peace and the silence necessary to explore basket weaving—a craft as old as humanity itself, spanning across all civilizations. “In Africa, Europe, and Oceania… there is basketry everywhere,” she proudly recounts, having discovered a rich tradition.

Her eyes light up when discussing her craft, meticulously explaining each step. Like many artisans, she makes it seem effortless until she delves into the intricacies, realizing the immense skill involved. She explains that paper, like most raw materials, has its quirks—similar to natural fibers used in weaving baskets, bags, placemats, or hats, it needs to be moistened to gain the necessary flexibility for working with it. She delicately rolls paper into fine strips, a process she finds therapeutic.

One of her standout pieces is a lamp resembling a bird’s nest—a heartwarming refuge observed in nature, a collection of straws deftly woven by beak and heart, knowing they will nurture and warm. Sandra does the same—nurturing and warming. That’s what she decided upon returning home. She does it with her hands, with the tenderness she’s regained, and with the agility of someone crafting an object that embodies the qualities of a home—holding affections, sturdy, enduring, and luminous.