Sweat drips down Gavyn Shumard鈥檚 forehead as he leans over a Hampshire Down sheep.
He does his best to keep the animal calm, despite the razor moving around its body.
鈥淪heep shearing is the hardest thing I鈥檝e ever done in my life, like I鈥檝e done concrete work, I鈥檝e done commercial roofing,鈥� he said.
Staying busy, though, is easy.
Shumard, who works for Altitude Shearing in Ashland County, is in high demand as older shearers age out. In a year, he might give as many as 13,000 sheep a fresh hair cut.
Today, he鈥檚 doing a demonstration at the Hocking Hills Garment Center to teach more people about his profession.
The organizer of the event is Lisa Heinz, a fiber artist in Appalachian Ohio.
She said Shumard was a lucky find. Shearing is a traveling profession, but many won鈥檛 come to the southeast where farms are smaller and spread out.
鈥淢ost of the shearers that are in Ohio shear in the North, they don鈥檛 come south anymore,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd they won鈥檛 do small herds.鈥�
It鈥檚 one of many puzzles Heinz hopes to solve in her quest to make clothes local again.
Southeast Ohio Fibershed tackles supply chain gaps
She鈥檚 the founder of the , which helps tackle systemic challenges for textile production in the region.
Today, most of the fabric we wear is derived from plastics. The average lifespan of garments in the U.S. is anywhere from two to ten years before they end up in landfills .
But Heinz, who sells locally sourced yarn, said there鈥檚 a growing demand for something different.
鈥淭his is an economic development opportunity,鈥� she said. 鈥淣ot necessarily for the Fibershed, but the Fibershed can work with other businesses to align themselves with sustainable textile processes.鈥�
Heinz wants to reimagine a textile economy focused on locally sourced fiber 鈥� think clothes made from wool, linen or cotton.
鈥淚f you can grow it, and then put it back in the soil when you can鈥檛 use it anymore and it鈥檒l decompose without polluting the environment, that鈥檚 sustainable,鈥� she said.
Wool is the easiest starting point according to Heinz, because Ohio鈥檚 farmers are already producing it.
Most of the state鈥檚 sheep are raised for meat. But she thinks they might be throwing away fleece worth saving.
鈥淭here鈥檚 use for this wool,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 just an education piece of how to take care of your fields so the fleece remains good enough to do something with once it鈥檚 off the sheep.鈥�
Over time, Heinz has built relationships with farmers who sell her their fleece.
But there鈥檚 another supply chain problem to grapple with: a shortage of fiber mills that process wool into yarn. Many local mills closed as a result of the pandemic. Now, waitlists can stretch one to two years.
鈥業 think it is a movement鈥�
In the dream scenario, Heinz said the Fibershed will one day own its own mill. It could also help farmers grow natural fibers like flax, or hemp.
For now, she鈥檚 focused on making connections. The organization held its first meet up of 2026 last month at the Hocking Hills Garment Center.
Fibershed Director Coral Wedel said it鈥檚 an opportunity to reach other people interested in local clothing production.
鈥淚 think it is a movement, and I think people are interested in getting back to the community and back to the roots and really understanding how things work,鈥� she said.
Wedel will lead a 鈥淐loth to Clothing鈥� workshop this summer at Hocking College. She hopes to inspire future textile makers so that one day, the sweater you buy at the store might be made in southeast Ohio.