art + craft = craftivism. » on the road.

Packing. (With four-legged help.)

Betsy — Sat, 01 May 2010 23:07:23 +0000

Bobbin’s been an excellent packing partner. So helpful, in fact, she actually packed herself. I think she looks quite pleased with her efforts, no? Move into my new apartment next weekend, while working a few hundred miles north during the week. Excited to have everything in its right (new!) place. Also quite excited to be added to the most awesome list of all time regarding environmental change over here.

So, in the spirit of new adventures, here’s a lovely quote via Marimello’s Tumblr. Thanks, Marie! I think it’s the perfectest (sic) quote for moving in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD. Here’s to letting go, stepping up to meet the sun, and feeling the earth solid and warm beneath your feet.

She let go She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go. She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go. She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go. She didn’t search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right. She didn’t promise to let go. She didn’t journal about it. She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go. She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn’t call the prayer line. She didn’t utter one word. She just let go. No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go. There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that. In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore…”

-Ernest Holmes

[And, I apologize for all the emails I haven't answered recently that aren't specifically time sensitive. I still love you the most, just swamped and want to reply when I have proper time to answer. And when I do, then you can write back tell me what you've been up to and we can continue like normal and still be friends forever, ok? I am, however, posting sporadically to online things that take less than a minute or 140 characters (and start with T) as I go a little stir crazy when I don't write at all: Tumblr, Twitter]

On the Road: Craftivism in Chicago!

Betsy — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 18:48:27 +0000

This Thursday come join me and Faythe Levine for a discussion on craftivism and a screening of her documentary, Handmade Nation!

Thursday, March 4, 3.30pm
Columbia College
600 S. Michigan Ave, Room 921

Also, if you read Portuguese or just want to see a weird photo of my creepy red bathroom, there’s an interview with me about craftivism in the current issue of Brazil’s Vida Simples magazine over here. Faythe is interviewed about Handmade Nation on the next page over, which you can see here!

Home Again.

Betsy — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 18:59:45 +0000

Back home from Guatemala. Can still feel tiny hands clutching mine. The giant smiles on tiny faces looking up at me and the rapid Spanish? Miss those, too.

As for craftivism, have you seen the article about it in The Observer? It’s about the awesomeness of Carrie Reichardt and her house. Will put up the whole article later as the pics don’t show online… either does the sidebar about the work of Garth Johnson, Sarah Corbett and me! Yay!

P.S. This is also the only photo I will ever upload online of me from the back. I have better ones of the children, but given the rate of child kidnapping in Guatemala (for adoption, sex trade and organs), am not going to put them online. Those mothers have enough to worry about, I’m not going to broadcast their children’s faces on the internet.

Finding Ground.

Betsy — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 14:53:39 +0000

I’m grounded by history.

I’ve been reminded of this many times over the past few weeks as I discover Washington, DC. Passing signs to my father’s old high school, waving to my great-grandmother in Arlington Cemetery (she has a great view of the Pentagon, where her husband worked), hearing stories about my grandfather’s grandparents farm (now a park), hearing about how my grandfather would walk their pony to Tyson’s Corner to be reshod as there was a blacksmith there.

Lately the photo above has been a touchstone. When I was a kid, my grandmother used to tell me about how we were related to the sculptor Daniel Chester French. This photo reminds me of big dreams and creativity and a smidge of hope that it will all look as magical as conceived once fully constructed. I still haven’t found the building that housed the bakery my grandfather’s grandmother owned, but my grandmother has a map.

There’s something about knowing all of this that allows me to sink into the city more, wondering about how our genes and journeys will mix as I wander around eying old buildings and time-tested construction. After moving so often and taking so many trips far and wide, it’s nice to find a spot of ground that feels firm and real and solid under my feet. In thinking about the hopes and dreams and fears and loves and first crushes in my family’s lives as they strolled along these streets to the market, to work, to the doctor, to school, a sense of magic surrounds me. It may seem silly or impossible or mawkish to some, but after feeling so temporary and transient, here, for a moment, this sense of being grounded comforts me deep and true and completely.

****

And for some crafty and otherwise creative links:
*Textile Encyclopedia
*How to hem jeans in 3 easy steps
*The Newly Redesigned Mr. Xstitch! (Great job, Jamie!)
*Guide to Reading Japanese Crochet & Knitting Patterns
*Find where your clothes come from with the Baacode
*The Art of Manliness (Ok, not so crafty as interesting)
*Copenhagen Cyclic Chic (see how to bike in high heels)
*National Museum of African Art archives
*Make softies? How about making a few for Softies for Mirabel
*Awista Ayub’s However Tall the Mountain (what happens when young Afghan girls learn about soccer… and more)

Giving Permission and Paying Homage.

Betsy — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 15:25:24 +0000

There is something about the delving into the past that is magic. Not the pulling rabbits out of hats, disappearing, shackling yourself underwater to a safe and then appearing at the surface magic. But magic in a sense more real. I found this magic the other week on the morning of July 4th walking through the cemetery of Christ Church in St. Simon’s Island, Georgia. My father and I went out to take photographs before it got too hot, and as usual, I was enchanted by its beauty and Spanish moss. Like all places of history, the South evokes it’s own individual memories in the way it takes you back through time making you crave lemonade, riding on horseback and hoop skirts.

This type of magic is infinite, and it holds with it a special kind of freedom. It holds a freedom where your creativity can move and writhe and grow and dream. I think this freedom is given to us by the past and the way in which it frees us from worrying if what we’re doing is cool or hip or meaningful or if our peers or families or friends will like it. It frees us from the “will it be enoughs?” by reminding us that we are on a continuum. That what we do today will always be eclipsed by something flashier or hipper tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean it still won’t stand to the test of time.

This type of magic gives us freedom to go forth without fear and create without the status quo in mind, allowing us to listen to our hearts and dreams instead of what’s on the front pages. It allows us to realize that we are okay and good and valuable just as we are right now, in the midst of all the dreams and hopes and creations of our ancestors. The past is truly our permission giver instead of our peers, as it knows that what you are thinking and doing and making will have been done in some sense before, you are just paying homage. I’ll take that magic over a good card trick any day.

The rest of the cemetery photos are here.