Chicago weaver's burial blankets go to the grave with you

Anders Zanichkowsky nimbly navigates a large loom in the second bedroom of a Logan Square apartment. The artist measures long strands of golden-colored thread, snips it and begins winding it through the warping board.

Zanichkowsky, who uses they/them pronouns, specializes in burial shrouds, which are meant to someday accompany their owner to the grave — art meant to be used, not to last forever.

Making burial blankets by hand is a tradition that crosses centuries and cultures. Zanichkowsky is approaching it with a modern twist and, by doing so, hopes to bring conversations about death and dying out of the shadows a bit.

“I'm OK with making art that’s meant to go in the ground and decompose,” they say.

So far, the clientele for Zanichkowsky’s business, Burial Blankets, has not been people for whom death seems imminent. Instead, Zanichkowsky, who is 39, has mostly worked with people in their 30s and 40s to create blankets that they can live with for decades. The cloth can be used as a bedspread, a picnic blanket or a large-scale piece of wall art.

Lydia Roussos, 36, commissioned a shroud a few years ago. The design was inspired by a blanket made by Roussos’ great-grandmother.

“I wanted something that’s similar to that. My own kind of heirloom,” says Roussos, whose blanket includes shades of black, purple, red, yellow and blue.

At first, Roussos was “really precious” about keeping the blanket pristine, but now says, “I like that it’s collecting the cat hair of the cats that I live with. I like that it’s collecting memories and the energy.”

Zanichkowsky's idea is to have a tangible, beautifully made item that invites reflection about mortality. By using it daily, the cloth can also be imbued with a lifetime of meaning and memories, adding to its sacredness.

“It's meant to live a whole life in your home,” Zanichkowsky says.

Weaving blankets is laborious, which is why the finished product can cost upwards of $2,000.

“I would say maybe at least 30%, if not 50%, of the labor in any burial blanket is the setup: designing it, calculating the lengths, calculating the widths, calculating the threads per inch, ordering all the thread, measuring all the thread and then organizing the warp,” the artist says.

Burial shrouds have been used across cultures and religions. Mel Keiser, who cofounded the Death Studies Research Group at Northwestern University, says traditionally, burial cloths were woven by people who lived near the deceased.

“They were sourced from materials that were nearby, and a lot of work and effort went into creating the cloth, and so that it's also a sacrifice to get rid of it,” Keiser says.

The blankets have gained more prominence recently, as interest in green burials has grown. While Zanichkowsky’s blankets can be used for any kind of funeral, the artist is especially focused on meeting the guidelines for people who want a natural burial, absent embalming or concrete vaults. The blankets are made entirely of natural fibers that will break down over time.

Zanichkowsky, who is originally from Madison, Wisconsin, often has made death a theme in their art and approaches the discussion of dying with ease.

“I knew I wanted to do burial art that was contemporary for me and my position in the world today, as an American living in the 21st century,” says Zanichkowsky, who began weaving as a graduate student in 2018. “I just intuitively felt that cloth was going to be a very good material to work with to find my way in that tradition, because we’ve used cloth since time immemorial for all kinds of things, including shrouding and dignifying the dead.”

They launched their business in 2021. Some customers have overcome cancer or other diseases that have put them face-to-face with their mortality. Others are in their twilight years and beginning to consider what’s next. And others, like Zanichkowsky, are just a bit death-curious and are comfortable contemplating it.

Zanichkowsky sees each project as a collaborative effort and even invites customers to weave a few lines of the shroud themselves. It can be an emotional process, but it’s also full of practical choices, including color palette, patterns and thread counts.

Zanichkowsky’s apartment houses two looms. One is for burial blankets. The other allows Zanichkowsky to work as a production weaver on a project for another artist.

Grants fund some of Zanichkowsky’s work. They purchased the burial blankets loom with a SPARK Grant from the Chicago Artists Coalition. They also received a $6,000 Individual Artists Grant from the city’s Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events.

A few times, Zanichkowsky has also made a limited number of baby blankets, which sell quickly.

“A friend of mine joked that it's like cradle to grave, but it’s actually just the cradle and just the grave,” Zanichkowsky says. “I only weave for birth and death.”