In the art of Navajo weaving, there’s now a torn space for trader, collector and Nizhoni Ranch Gallery owner Steve Getzwiller. He died August 23 at the age of 74. His passing leaves a hole in the hearts of many Navajo weavers he represented. 

Linda Nez poses with Steve Getzwiller and one of her large weavings. 

Steve wasn’t like other traders. Instead of the weavers going to stores and trading posts to sell their pieces, Steve came to the weavers. His first time at the home of master weaver Grace Nez in the 1990s was totally unexpected, as daughter Berlinda Nez Barber, who was then maybe 15 years old, recalls. “We didn’t like anybody looking at our weavings (while on the loom). Steve came, and everybody was like, ‘Go find out what he wants,” she says, adding that he was persistent and asked to see her mother’s rugs. Her mother agreed, and once inside the hogan Steve was shocked to find so many looms for Grace and her eight daughters who were also weavers. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

“He was a special person,” says Linda Nez. “He was more respectful to us…he helped us with a lot of colors, and some of the designs he wanted us to do, and gave us some ideas, some pointers.” He would suggest traditional styles, but with their own twists to each weaving.

Ava Nez, a granddaughter of Grace Nez, agrees Steve improved their art. “The early rugs were very cluttered, and Steve asked my aunts if they could do something cleaner, that didn’t have that much added stuff in it. That way the main design could shine,” she says, adding that Steve gave them a lot of freedom, which meant she wasn’t afraid to say no to some suggestions. “I told him I didn’t want to because that was so boring. So he said, ‘OK…you do what you want to do…just tell me the yarn you want.’” 

Steve Getzwiller at the loom with weaver Kathy Marianito.

Master weaver Frances Begay would work back and forth with Steve on the phone, often sending him photos as her piece was developing. “‘What if I changed this color?’ I would ask and he replied, ‘Yeah, just try it. See what happens. Do whatever you think.’”

One tradition Steve helped reintroduced to Navajo weaving was wool from churro sheep which has less lanolin. “The rugs came out better,” says Marian Nez. “The wool really made a difference. When we changed to churro wool, it was soft…It didn’t have that scratchy feeling.”

Then there was “wearable art,” which Steve worked on with master weaver Kathy Marianito. Kathy produced award-winning chief’s blankets using silk and alpaca yarn. They had a true partnership on those projects. “He wanted to try different ways of weaving…and I wanted to weave the yarn he brought and design and all that,” says Kathy. “I won a lot of ribbons, a lot of things together with him.”

“To him it was more than just a rug,” says Berlinda Nez. “There was a story to it. And a lot of times when we did our weavings, we ended up with a story. It meant a lot to him, and it changed our weaving.” 

Steve Getzwiller with weaver Cara Gorman overlooking Canyon de Chelly. Behind them is Spider Rock which, according to the Navajo people, is the home of the Spider Woman, the universe’s first weaver. 

Fifteen years ago, I traveled across Navajo Nation with Steve, who was also my second cousin. As we bounced along unmarked trails in his pickup, his cowboy hat sliding across the dashboard, he explained these were so much more than business relationships. “Their problems become my problems,” he said. “I’m their banker, employer, counselor, friend…there’s definitely mutual respect.”

Steve Getzwiller always encouraged weavers to reach higher, to challenge themselves. Weavers told me the art today is better for it because Steve cared—he cared about the art and about the artists.

“He was more like a person we could talk to about our problems, and he listened. He listened and he helped me very, very much,” says Frances Begay. “I’m going to miss that.” 

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