Oh Busy Weaver, LLC (OBW) was founded in the fall of 2007 by Chris Chiacchierini with a two part mission: to balance his family budget and to pull the curtain back on web design (building websites does not involve expensive magic). By operating from a place of honesty and transparency, OBW offers highly attractive and functional websites for small businesses that cost hundreds of dollars, not the thousands that our competitors charge. OBW is able to accomplish this by building sites on tested and proven open source software, which ensures security and stability and eliminates the need to start from scratch on every project (thus reducing those pesky billable design hours). This approach proved to be so appealing to small businesses that the demand for OBW's services grew quickly and Chris soon found that he needed help.
Help came from colleague Liz Collins. Her personal experience as an artist combined with a background in IT were a great fit for Oh Busy Weaver, and her passion for providing clients with an excellent experience while sites are in development complemented Chris' dedication to the company. With Liz's skills, the business took off, and she became a partner on a cold and rainy New Year's Day, 2009.
Chris & Liz have been designing and building websites ever since. We take pride in our work and in the growing numbers of satisfied OBW clients.
About the Name
We are often asked how we chose our name. Oh Busy Weaver derives its name from a book which is, in Chris' opinion, the greatest piece of fiction ever written - Moby Dick. Here's the passage...
It was a wondrous sight. The wood was green as mosses of the Icy Glen; the trees stood high and haughty, feeling their living sap; the industrious earth beneath was as a weaver's loom, with a gorgeous carpet on it, whereof the ground-vine tendrils formed the warp and woof, and the living flowers the figures. All the trees, with all their laden branches; all the shrubs, and ferns, and grasses; the message-carrying air; all these unceasingly were active. Through the lacings of the leaves, the great sun seemed a flying shuttle weaving the unwearied verdure. Oh, busy weaver! unseen weaver!--pause!--one word!--whither flows the fabric? what palace may it deck? wherefore all these ceaseless toilings? Speak, weaver!--stay thy hand!--but one single word with thee! Nay--the shuttle flies--the figures float from forth the loom; the freshet-rushing carpet for ever slides away. The weaver-god, he weaves; and by that weaving is he deafened, that he hears no mortal voice; and by that humming, we, too, who look on the loom are deafened; and only when we escape it shall we hear the thousand voices that speak through it. For even so it is in all material factories. The spoken words that are inaudible among the flying spindles; those same words are plainly heard without the walls, bursting from the opened casements. Thereby have villainies been detected. Ah, mortal! then, be heedful; for so, in all this din of the great world's loom, thy subtlest thinkings may be overheard afar.
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