Tossing on your favorite aloha attire, ever stop to think about what it’s made of? Living in our industrialized world, giant machines do the work once done by hand on a weaving loom. Millions of yards of fabric can be spewed out in minutes.

Who even knows what "warp" and "weft" threads mean anymore, or how to turn cotton or silk or sheep wool into wearable art? Answer: the members of the Hawaii Handweavers Hui, one of Hawaii’s oldest art organizations.

For the Hawaii Hand- weavers Hui exhibition, "For the Joy of Weaving," a common thread of creativity runs through the works selected by Hawaii’s internationally honored weaver and fiber artist Val Krohn-Ching. Reviewing each entry, Krohn-Ching asked herself, "Does it tell a story and evoke an emotional response? Adhere to the principles of design? Pre­sent aesthetic awareness and a fresh awareness? Reflect craftsmanship, technical excellence and, finally, is it professional and inviting?"

The selection process looked like a windstorm of fabrics. Entries were spread, hung and draped over every available table and pedestal in the exhibition space. From delicate silk to sturdy banana fiber, woven jewelry to jackets, scarves and diaphanous garments, everything was scrutinized according to the qualifications for entry.

One rule states that at least 50 percent of each piece must be woven. This did not please Krohn-Ching, who said of the rule, "I wish it wouldn’t be there. Sometimes it excludes fine art. Why should we have rules in art?"

A tall woman, she stood to get the overview, looking for precision and detail in work that is spontaneous art. She sought artists presenting different aesthetic experiences.

Her pick for "Best in Show" is a 16-foot long, hand-woven piece by Ghislaine Chock titled "earth gems of the Wai­anae range." Krohn-Ching described it as "shiboried," dipped in indigo dye and painted or stained with other colors. The entry tag read "earth persimmon and indigo." The juror wondered out loud, "What is an earth persimmon? Did the artist use an actual persimmon? Are the seedlike shapes inspired by the fruit? We will have to ask."

Spinning is a new category added this year. Here weavers have taken their art a step beyond art-making, spinning yarn from sheep’s wool or harvesting and spinning the wild cotton that grows in Ewa. They use their yarns for weaving by hand, finger or loom. Look close to find the cotton seed between the fibers.

Krohn-Ching’s own work runs from delicate pieces to a 17-foot-high, 9-foot-wide warrior’s helmet for Paliku Theater at Windward Community College. She wove another item for the TV show "Lost." Her jurors piece for this show, "Manilla Triangle," is a lush, thick, 3-by-4-foot linen warp and natural and manmade fiber weft, including hau, braided coir, raffia, sisal, wire and rya knots. She describes it as a study of juxtaposing geometric shapes with natural materials.

Of the 75 show entries, 50 were selected. The exhibition will include another 20 works by invited guests and the "kumu members," founders of the show more than 35 years ago.

Invited artist and hui member Diana Tusher’s sculptural weaving is looped banana fiber woven into linen and cotton with rose quartz tears, juniper sticks and high-fire ceramic clay. Kumu member Laurel Hayama created a sampler of weaving indicating how colors and fibers interface to greet viewers at the door.

Weaving in a bit of history: In 1946 the University of Hawaii brought Hester Robinson to the school to begin a weaving program in the newly formed Art Department. On July 23, 1953, six members of her classes met and formed the Hawaii Handweavers Hui, then called Hui Mea Hana, a group of people working with their hands. Over the years, the members taught classes, created art and established the biennial exhibition.

Krohn-Ching was impressed with the diversity of entries, which included turquoise gems woven into a necklace; Japa­nese woven paper; and a delicate white silk weaving with 80 ends per inch (this is a measurement in weaving; note that some loom weavings have just 10 to 12 ends per inch). She says the silk piece is so fine that threads are nearly invisible.

Then she held up the long, felted hanging by Liz Train in vibrant blue and green, calling it "a mystery, woven and interwoven," then voiced the question, "How did she do that? We will have to ask."