Archive | photography

Women’s March photos from DC (part two)

In case you missed part one, here it is.

Today means being outside of the bubble of this weekend, back to a world where the White House press secretary stood in front of journalists and openly lied. Where do we go from here?

I say we take our pussyhats and wear them. So that when we’re out and about and we see someone else wearing one, too, we know we’re not alone. A signifier of a world where kindness triumphs over anger and empathy beats rage.

 

Small Victories.

Small victories. We all have them. Small triumphs over small things can personally feel just as good as big victories over big things. But do we always take note of those small victories?

I think we do, actually. Especially these days with apps like Instagram, where we can take visual note of our every day goodnesses and kindnesses and small victories.

When I look over my Instagram feed, I see small victories that I would have otherwise not noticed. A quote that makes my day stronger, a handmade sock (made by my hands!) that fits my foot well and doesn’t fall off, and a photo that simultaneously makes me happy with myself in the mirror and makes me further appreciate art (in this case, Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Mirror Room at Museum Boijmans van Beuningen in Rotterdam).

When was the last time you noted a small victory? Really truly felt that little (or big!) leap of accomplishment deep down? Did you capture it on camera? Take a mental snapshot in your mind? Kiss the memory with your soul?

I think as makers, we need to dive into these moments and let them truly wash over us in order to keep our creative well full. Do you agree? If so, how do you do it?

virgil

sock

yayoi kusama

Threads of War, moving south, and other adventures

Sometimes, even though you’ve been online since the beginning of the century, you turn away from the internet. Not to shy away, not to disappear, not to bunk off without a trace. When I got back from tour with Kim and Leanne in late October I was tasked with putting together the final touches of Threads of War at Artspace, which was an exciting process, but definitely a learning one.

Having this opportunity to try my hand at curating was an invaluable experience; therefore, I am both thankful for the kind support of the Artspace staff as well as the willingness of Hanne Bang, the Combat Paper Project, Bonnie Peterson, and Alexandra Walters to share their amazing work for this show. While I have shown my own work in a number of shows over the years, it’s a whole different experience to have someone else agree to share their work with you!

Here are a few photos of the show itself and its installation.

TOW

boots

cpp

alex

view

All of these photos were first shown over on Instagram, should you wish to follow me over there.

The show will be up until January 31st. Olisa Corcoran, who participated in Hanne’s In a War Someone Has to Die project and stitched a handkerchief that is in the show, has written a lovely blog post about it here.

As for what’s next for me and my brand of craftivism (as while I did start the whole shebang, I’m definitely not the only one writing about it, which you can see here), well, first of all, in just a few weeks I’m moving to Durham, North Carolina! While I was installing Threads of War and then hanging out with my little niece and nephew over Christmas, I realized that I needed to go back home and make the time to do more freelance projects (editing, writing, making), all the while embedding myself in a smaller (yet thriving) arts community.

I’m excited about this next chapter in my life, and while doing 365 projects may seem like all the rage these days (and why not- they’re great), I’m going to let this blog and my work grow in ways that it needs to. I want to take more photos and write more essays and make more things. I want to get back to where I was before 4 years of spending 1.5 hours a day commuting, although I’ll miss crossing the Potomac on my way.

I want to produce work just like the quote below goes, not because I aim to get anywhere in particular. (The photo below is from @wrdsmith’s feed on Instagram, which is simply amazing!) I want to dive into things deeper as opposed to trying to learn 10,000 things at once and really “aim” for “good,” instead of aiming to know all the things. I’m looking forward to the journey and would love to have you come along with me.

wrdsmth

Week #6 of 48 Weeks of Historical Craftivism, WWI Knitting!

So I started this project for two reasons: 1) to tackle my own personal issues with discipline (and I’m struggling to work through that… my current battle? Not paying attention to the calendar and letting time slip through) and 2) to learn more about historical craftivism. But the truth is for this one, WWI knitting, even though I’m keeping it to 2 hours of research, just kept being too daunting, given all the work being done all over the world for others. However, I am determined to get 48 acts up in 48 weeks, so there may be some fudging of the technical “weeks” on the calendar while I push through my own discipline issues… Apologies to all you (k)nitpicky readers out there…

Anyhoo… here we go… WWI knitting! This was especially daunting because we all know that there was knitting for the troops in WWI. But, where do we go to look for more information? That seems to be the question on this topic. So, I’m linking to various archives and fonts of information here as the breadth is too much for 1 (or even 100) blog posts.




The “Grey Sock” pattern by Irene Victoria Read: Knitting for Victory: Transatlantic Propaganda in WWI & WWII




Volunteer work on the homefront: America During WWI and WWII

BoysKnittingWWI


Frenchbandages





A knitted garment of one kind or another takes on and transfers a certain energy from its maker to its wearer, I believe, and there’s something incredibly moving about the sort of touch that a homemade sweater or pair of socks permitted. From the hands of a wife, mother, grandmother, sweetheart, sister, or benevolent stranger to the body of a soldier, knitwear crossed the divide between home and battlefield.




Needlework and Knitting Instructions for First World War volunteers over on Scribd uploaded by the British Red Cross




The trenches of France and Belgium were muddy and constantly filled with water. As a result, soldiers were prone to a painful condition called Trench Foot. The only cure was for them to keep their feet dry and change their socks regularly. Soldiers in the trenches were supposed to have at least three pairs of socks and change them at least twice a day. Since hand knitting was time consuming, Associated Field Comforts began to supply knitting machines to people who would try to turn out from seventy-five to one hundred pairs a month. Assistance from the people of Hamilton was regularly acknowledged by the overseas contingent. In November 1915, 27,892 pairs of socks were sent to the Front from the city. By 1916 there were Four Canadian Divisions at the Front, resulting in a greater demand on the Association for socks. Various church clubs and volunteer groups began contributing to the output of Associated Field Comforts by supplying large quantities of knitted articles for the men overseas.




Aside from raising money, school children of both genders participated in knitting clubs to produce goods to send to the troops at the front. In order to make their patriotism known to their older countrymen, New York’s children also participated in patriotic parades and memorial services both during and after the war.




The “Knit Your Bit” poster you may very well be familiar with, but check out the other posters here related to WWI propaganda:


knityourbit





More info on Irene Read, and her “Grey Sock kit,” complete with teeny tiny photo of said sock kit!


grey sock kit





Soon after the war began, women and girls were knitting socks, scarves and balaclavas, for the soldiers. They knitted at home, on trams, in churches. When they ran out of knitting needles, they made new ones from bicycle spokes: when they ran out of dye, they used onion skins and wattle bark; when they ran out of wool, they learnt to spin their own.

– Jan Bassett


ladymayoresshelpers




warwork





There are also 2 older posts here about WWI and knitting, which you will find here and here.




This photo is probably the most fascinating… it’s an interned German doing macrame at Fort Douglas…


internedgerman





And in keeping with last week’s post about the Civil War and knitting, here’s a little bit from the wonderful book No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting:

“At the sound of war, former Civil War knitters quickly surfaced. One eighty-eight-year-old who had accompanied her husband on Civil War assignments taught knitting to children in a Takoma Park, Maryland, church. Many still-spry United Daughters of the Confederacy who once knit for “Johnny Reb” now contributed over 600,000 knit articles for “Sammy.” Instead of gloves or stockings, a grandmother who proudly snapped on her Red Cross button “in place of her accustomed brooch” made “stump socks” to fit over amputated limbs. Seventy-two-year-old Mrs. Mitt Osgood, who lived on a Montana cattle ranch eighty miles from a railroad, knit 18 pairs of socks in twenty days and completed 120 pairs between February and September, 1918.”