On an evening in August, a dozen guests sat on cushions around a black woven object titled “Umbra,” an exaggerated netlike creation lying on the concrete floor. The invitation to the event described the piece as “a sensory experience” accompanying the exhibition “Neither Water Nor Land” by the hand-weaving atelier Studio Jumi.

The exhibition’s title referred to the character of peatlands. So scents that subtly smelled like water, grass and soil — which Studio Jumi’s founders, Julia Buntzel and Miriam Rose Gronwald, had developed with the Australian scent artist Caroline McMillan — were passed around for audience members to sniff and then discuss.

Ms. Gronwald and Ms. Buntzel talked about how they tried to translate the ambiguity of the landscape into material and form, and Ms. Gronwald said they had created the scents because they wanted the exhibition to have what she called “another layer of emotional storytelling.”

“We weave with raw materials,” Ms. Buntzel said, “and scent always comes up. Our hands smell and our atelier does as well, depending on the material we use.”

According to the women, 500 discarded bicycle tubes as well as natural and synthetic fibers were used to create the exhibition’s 14 pieces. For example, the warp of the woven pieces titled “Moor I-VII” used cotton, wool and silk with the bicycle tubes as the weft, coming together as traditional peacock patterns.

“In order to weave them,” Ms. Buntzel said, “we had to cut the bike tubes, remove the valves, wash them and then cut them into finer strips.” (Each “Moor” piece was 4,000 euros, or $4,645.)

The idea of using tubes in the exhibition, which ran through Aug. 22, arose during a discussion between the two women, both of whom are 34.

“Weavers traditionally work with materials from their surroundings,” Ms. Buntzel said. “What if we integrated materials that are abundant to us in the city and introduced them into hand weaving, yet weave traditional patterns on an almost 80-year-old loom?”

That loom, which measures 9.5 feet by 6 feet, was made of red beech in the early 1950s. It is the largest of the eight looms that the women have in their 750-square-foot atelier, which once was the garage for a late 19th-century apartment building.

The loom’s previous owner had used it to weave textiles for folk costumes, and Ms. Gronwald and Ms. Buntzel said they named the loom Hella, in her honor. They use Hella for most of their creations, with the other looms used to make samples or for students to work on during the workshops they regularly offer.

Their work, the women said, has been experimental, but rooted in the fundamentals of the craft. “In Europe, we are so conditioned to think about weaving in a way that the result should be an everyday object,” Ms. Gronwald said. “With Studio Jumi, we look at techniques from such Bauhaus artists as Anni Albers to the contemporary American artist Sheila Hicks. We need them for inspiration to step out of set boundaries.”

In addition to teaching and creating art, Studio Jumi also consults on and weaves complex pieces on commission. In 2024, for example, it created a tube almost 100 feet long out of optical fiber and metal for “Photosynthesis,” a work by the Danish artist Tue Greenfort that now hangs at the Technical University of Denmark in Kongens Lyngby.

Ms. Buntzel and Ms. Gronwald met in 2021, at the beginning of their four-year blended-learning weaving apprenticeship at Werkhof Kukate in Lower Saxony. It is one of the two remaining institutions in Germany where hand weaving is taught as vocational training.

Werkhof Kukate is operated by the Seelig family. Inge Seelig, who heads its weaving department, said Ms. Buntzel and Ms. Gronwald “were absolutely delightful students” who had stood out “because they had an uninhibited approach towards materials and their combination, that most hand weavers would consider difficult.“

She added that the woman had “enriched the class by working on their own projects while they were there and gave students from older generations a fresher outlook on the craft.”

Both of the women grew up in southern Germany and came from artistic backgrounds.

Ms. Buntzel completed an apprenticeship as a wood sculptor; studied stage design in Vienna and sculpture in Berlin; and worked as a stage assistant at a local theater. She discovered weaving during her university years.

Ms. Gronwald had trained as a professional dancer since childhood and performed for years with ensembles in Germany and France. On a 2018 trip in Southeast Asia, she was fascinated by what she called “the depth of storytelling” in textiles made by the Lao-Tai people, and eventually interned at Studio Naenna, which supports local women and their craft in Chiang Mai, Thailand.

“Coming from dance, I believe that you need to learn weaving from the ground up in order to work freely,” Ms. Gronwald said. “It’s not a D.I.Y. craft, it’s very disciplined.”

In 2022 the women founded Studio Jumi (the name combines the first two letters of each of their names). Initially, they only planned to share a space, but “we realized very quickly that if you share a room and a loom, you also share ideas,” Ms. Buntzel said.

For their first oversized collaborative piece, “Decomposition I,” they were “sitting side by side and wove simultaneously in a precise choreography,” Ms. Buntzel said.

Today, she added, “we often weave in shifts; the exchange happens on many levels and guides the artistic process.”

Part of their work involves a search for new materials. Their catalog of textile samples incorporates items such as wire, chains of plastic beads, doll hair, paper and string. Some of those materials have shown up in Studio Jumi creations such as “Monolith,” a large-scale textile that used 0.3-millimeter-wide copper wire to create a waffle pattern common in towels or bathrobes. A total of about 6.5 pounds of copper wire alternated with cotton and silk threads created the warp, while linen and modal fiber was used as the weft (€10,000).

“Visitors are fascinated by the visual depth of the piece,” said Maj van der Linden, the gallerist who represents Studio Jumi. “A familiar pattern that many know from items of everyday use receives an entirely new reflection through the copper.”

Ms. van der Linden discovered the studio during an open call in 2022 at her namesake gallery in Berlin: “I felt the energy between them and saw that they were creating something exciting and contemporary with a craft that, unfortunately in Germany, has a bit of a dusty image. There is deep knowledge and beauty in their work and in their process of making it, which cannot be detached from the work itself.”