WASHINGTON - The decorative arts have always been powerful communicators for those who can decipher the code of sumptuous materials, meticulous technique and artistic inspiration.

During the Renaissance, the glorious age of tapestries, no dinner guest would have misunderstood a bloody battle scene draped across a victorious host's banquet hall.

In our own era, a provocative exhibition that opened over the weekend at the Textile Museum shows that the old art form has lost none of its punch.

There are no warriors back from the Crusades or a single unicorn in "By Hand in the Electronic Age: Contemporary Tapestry." Instead, soft twists of wool and silk have been woven into sharp commentary on contemporary issues.

Topics include corporate villainy, communist land grabs, the flight of the Jews and the fate of Earth in a stormy universe.

A dynamic tapestry by Atlanta artist Jon Eric Riis hovers under the cloud of Enron, Tyco and WorldCom. Called "Icarus 3," the work is one of six by Riis, a pre-eminent American tapestry artist.

A man in free-fall is the central image, a fit figure with a great haircut and manicured nails. He's also stark naked. Riis is silent on the subject, but the character, even unmasked, reeks of corporate mogul, circa 2000.

Tapestries are essentially a weft-faced textile woven by hand on a loom. The artist's vision emerges one line at a time, a bit like the image on an underpowered computer. Materials have changed little over time; artists then and now use wool, linen, silk and threads wrapped with gilt metal. Riis incorporates beads and glitter. Papai has twisted snippets of printed paper into her coffin. In every case, Stevens notes, the work is labor-intensive, and the artist who chooses tapestry as a form of expression is likely to be obsessive.

Tapestries have been woven since the Pharaohs ruled Egypt. But most people are more familiar with the faded narratives that decorated palaces and churches across Europe.

Until the 19th century, when the art world decreed that paintings and drawings were a higher order, tapestries were more valued and more costly than paintings. Huge tapestries were produced in workshops, where 30 weavers might work on the same piece, weaving two square feet a month.

In the late 19th century, William Morris, founder of the English Arts and Crafts movement, called for a re-evaluation of all things handmade, and even the Bauhaus modernists tried tapestries.

But 20th-century textile artists moved on to the freedom of fiber art. Only recently, according to Stevens, have artists begun to reconsider the tradition, history and meaning of tapestry. The question is what can make it relevant to 21st-century audiences.

Riis answers effortlessly. His "Masked Muses" imitates an 18th-century sculpture of the Three Graces.

But in our buttoned-up, post-Janet Jackson world, it delivers an unambiguous message.

The ladies' eyes are covered, but the attributes of their naked bodies are fully exposed. And, with Riis' skill, visitors may be forgiven for leaning in closely, if only to inspect those intricate loops of silk thread.

"By Hand in the Electronic Age: Contemporary Tapestry" continues through Sept. 5 at the Textile Museum in Washington. (202) 667-0441. www.textilemuseum.org. Free.