On the Road: Craftivism in Chicago!

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


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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!

Holi, the Festival of Colors

One last check of the news before I go to bed tonight and the front page of The Guardian (online) has photos from past Holi celebrations.

I’m not sure how I’ve managed to entirely miss Holi, the Festival of Colors, until this evening. It is a welcoming of springtime by a number of Eastern religions, the “celebrated season of Love.” You can read more about various Holi celebrations here and read various legends surrounding its beginning here.

The photos in this post are taken from a photo gallery of Holi in 2009.

And seeing these photos makes me sad for everyone not choosing that wicked orange sweater they like because it will be “too bright” at the office or stuffing their hot pink tights in a drawer so as to not cause a commotion. Why don’t we celebrate? Why don’t we dive in and embrace hues that make our lives cheerier and more colorful more often?

These photos resonate deeply because they’re about open, honest, pure celebration. They make my feet tingle out of happiness. There’s a joy and a note of life that you rarely see captured. Today, as you’re wearing your khakis or perhaps whites, have a look online for photos from Holi today. And join in their celebration of colors, the bright, the bold and the awesome.

And don’t forget to take notice of how you (your mind, your eyes, your body) react to the photos, to their smiles and their tones. Chances are good, you’ll find yourself smiling back.

Want more color?

*Pantone

*Color Matters

*Dutchboy Paints

*Color Theory Tutorial

*Color: A Natural History of the Palette

Soldiers Knitting, part 2!

More knitting soldiers! You may be asking yourself, “Why is this important?” Well, war and craft are two things throughout history found in almost every culture, and each of them got more or less “assigned” to a particular gender along the way. Women, the childbearers, needed to stay close to home to watch their babies, so war was pretty much out. Men, well, let’s just say there are loads of reasons why they ended up with war instead of craft. As they are prevalent throughout history, I’m interested in the links between the two, as if you look at America’s wars of last century, the rise in popularity in craft, follows the same timeline. Crazy, no?

The accompanying text is the only mention I’ve ever seen of soldiers knitting for evacuated children.

Two soldiers knitting in wartime, 31 October 1939. ‘If you drop in at ‘The Peggy Bedford’ on the Great West Road in Longford, Middlesex, the landlady will ask you to knit. She will hand you knitting needles with your drink, and the idea is that you knit a few squares between the orders. These squares are later made up into clothes for soldiers and evacuated children. Two customers in uniform busily knit after obtaining their drinks’.

Slowly, I’m discovering more evidence of soldiers being taught knitting in previous wars because of its therapeutic nature. The text below accompanies the photo below on the website for Fort McHenry National Monument and Historic Shrine:

Great strides were also made in occupational therapy. The men were taught new job skills that could be used once they were dismissed from the hospital. Subjects taught in the Fort’s vocational school included telegraphy, metal work, basketry, commercial art, shorthand and typing. Carpentry, upholstery, auto repair, bookkeeping and even knitting were also offered to keep the wounded occupied and provide them with a possible means of livelihood. It was the first serious attempt to give disabled American veterans real employment.

Probably the spirit of the hospital’s rehabilitation program was best depicted in an illustration on the anniversary cover of “The Trouble Buster,” Fort McHenry’s own magazine, printed on its own presses by it own patients.

There is more about “The Trouble Buster” in Carry On: A Magazine on the Reconstruction of Disabled Soldiers, Part 1 published in 1919 by the Office of the Surgeon General. Not only does Carry On have awesome article titles such as “The Seas of Opportunity are Waiting for Specialized Brains” and “The Sluggard and the Ant,” it also provides a pretty interesting look at what returning soldiers were facing after World War I.

And lastly, the first thing I found online that mentioned teaching soldiers to knit because it’s a “mental stimulus.” From the Democrat & Chronicle, Rochester NY, February 7, 1918, page 12:

Rochester Women Have Proficient Pupils in Camp Dix Hospital
Rochester women are teaching soldiers in the base hospital at Camp Dix to knit. Wooford G. TIMMONS, of New York, and Elmer ADLER, of Rochester, were instrumental in procuring the instruments and a big supply of wool and the Y. M. C. A. has installed a number of small table looms. Among those who are teaching the soldier patients to knit are Mrs. Joseph ALLING, wife of Joseph T. ALLING, of this city, who is doing Y. M. C. A. work at the camp, and Mrs. W. J. WOOD; Mrs. ALLING is the chief instructress.
The physicians have declared that knitting is beneficial to the men as a mental stimulus.

I also really dig that Mrs. Alling is called “the chief instructress.”

Soldiers Knitting (1918)

Researching the therapeutic value of knitting, I came across this from 1918. More later, but too cool not to share now.

As for anyone who thinks that knitting is just for wusses, please note that this picture was taken at Walter Reed. Yes, Walter Reed Army Medical Center.*

ca. 1918-1919, Walter Reed Hospital, Washington, DC, USA — Bed-ridden wounded knit to help pass the time. Walter Reed Hospital, Washington, DC, ca. 1918-1919. — Image by © CORBIS

*Restraining with all my power to not type “Take that, hardasses” here. Yes, I know a lot of really nice military guys, but knitting, let’s just say is not on their radar.

Who, Are, You?

“The only dream worth having is to dream that you will live while you’re alive and die only when you’re dead. […] To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.”
— Arundhati Roy, The Cost of Living

Last night, while watching the Olympics (multi-tasking!) I updated my Facebook page, which I hadn’t done in over a year. I also updated the photo of me on here.

While the photos we choose to represent ourselves online are also curated by us, online photos are, shall we say, carefully edited. Or scripted or public relations related or any of a million other things photos do. Although yes, now I have to uncomfortably look at myself when and if I log into Facebook, and then I just sit there typing while the me of the last week watches the me now.

Eventually I got down to the box where it asked me about my “Favorite Quote” and I put the above. It captures who I am better than any photo ever could and it reveals more about me, too. Noticing this, I then got annoyed that that particular box was all the way down at the bottom, when that box really should be at the top.

As instead of the photos we choose to show the world, the words we choose to hold dear and sacred enough to remember despite being barraged constantly with more and more and more words are what really define us.

The rest? Fluff you have to muddle through in order to get to the good part, discovering what we hold to be true and right and kind. So we take the photo, put it up and hope that the people who come into our lives have the patience, the love and the wherewithal to stick around long enough to find that teeny tiny really way far down box. As that’s what holds the essence of who we are always, not just who we chose to be frozen in a moment in time.