england.

After living in Norwich, Watford, London and Sussex and visiting often since 1995, it deserved its own category.

Activism Is Not A 4-Letter Word. (Reminder)

| Betsy

Today’s post is a re-post of something I wrote in November 2005. If you’ve read Handmade Nation, you’ll see that I have an essay in the book with the same name. This original post was what led to the essay a few years later. I’m reposting it here because sometimes it’s good to be reminded of just where your heart lies.

Two things for today, this afternoon I’ll be on The State of Things from about 12.40 until 1EST, and tonight I’ll be talking about craftivism and the book at Barnes & Noble in Cary at 7pm.

Dictionary.com defines activism as “The use of direct, often confrontational action, such as a demonstration or strike, in opposition to or support of a cause.” This is the definition I have often been presented with the minute I mention either craftivism or activism. At the mention of these terms, some people rear up and want nothing more to do with the discussion. When such a negative definition is so commonly applied, it isn’t hard to see why feathers are ruffled by even a whisper of activism.

But my own definition of activism lies closer to this, “Activism, in a general sense, can be described as intentional action to bring about social or political change” from Wikipedia. It continues with “The word ‘activism’ is often used synonymously with protest or dissent, but activism can stem from any number of political orientations and take a wide range of forms, from writing letters to newspapers or politicians, simply shopping ethically, rallies and street marches, direct action, or even guerilla tactics. In the more confrontational cases, an activist may be called a freedom fighter by some, and a terrorist by others, depending on which side of the political fence is making the observation.”

Activism (or craftivism) is less about a call to arms and more about a call to act for change. Although there are negative ways one can bring about change, the majority of activists I know are working for the common good, attempting to bring about illumination instead of darkness. By negating a construct and stripping it of its positive intent, the more commonly used definition only breeds fear and unwillingness when in fact every time you make a conscious choice, you are being an activist. In choosing to buy one brand of yarn instead of another due to the way it was produced or by choosing to ride your bike instead of drive, you are being an activist.

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The past two weeks I have been living in rural England on a small-scale farm. I can’t think of a time when I have been more inspired or been taught more lessons or been shown so much hope in such a short span. I have been connecting and meeting individuals who continue to farm despite all the obstacles in their paths. After all the governmental and financial restraints have been agreed to, there seems to be little reason to continue an agrarian lifestyle.

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As we send all of our textile needs to further shores where people are paid less to work more, resources that the small-scale producers have relied on since the Industrial Revolution have vanished, leaving them trying to fill in the gaps. And as it becomes more and more difficult for small-scale farmers to survive, traditions and methods are lost in the name of technology and progress.

But there is a sense of activism in the air here as people strive to continue to produce wool and fleece as they once did when all the factories where up and running and could take in small quantities of fibre to be prepared. Out of love and determination, activism is alive in its most positive sense- as individuals try and band together to keep traditional methods afloat despite myriad setbacks. In watching their strength and learning from their dedication, I am reminded again and again of why I am not ashamed to call myself an activist.

Merry. Merry.

| Betsy

Today was going to be one of those days where I really crossed things off my to-do list. Then I was called last minute to work for someone who’s home sick.

This morning I got most of my list done as I rushed around town and dropped things off, picked things up, sat at the mechanics and wondered if my “holiday list” is ever going to get finished before Christmas.

So instead of writing about some lovely people who knit jumpers for chickens who’ve been in battery farms, I shall post this for now. It’s the story of one lucky chicken, although she’s not the only hen to be given the gift of the handmade this year:

The video is from a tiny little blurb in The Daily Telegraph. I can’t believe I’m just seeing chicken sweatery goodness now and not when it first came out, but it’s still wonderful nonetheless.

Oh, and if you are stressed out by the holidays, I wrote a few crafty holiday mantras and give you permission to relax over here.

Full Circle. (Kinda Sorta)

| Betsy

I first started really thinking about knitting and its relation to community and theory when I was in graduate school at Goldsmiths College and therefore involved with the Centre for Community and Urban Research, headed by Michael Keith.

During that year I fell in love with ethnography and Walter Benjamin and felt literally as though my head was cracked open. It was the first time that I understood that I wasn’t the only one who was fascinated by the dance and beat of the city, or hell, even knew there was an almost audible tone separate to each city. Or energized by discovering how people interacted with their communities and totally infatuated with the pulse that was almost palpable on the streets of London whether it was early morning before setup at Spitalfields Market or trying to maneuver around people in Oxford Circle or lost on purpose on the streets surrounding Brick Lane.

One of the first books we read that year was The Fall of Public Man by Richard Sennett. I remember talking about the book excitedly with my friend Katherine in our favorite coffeeshop across from the college. When I started talking about my dissertation topic, on knitting, community and DIY, I was wondering if I was actually onto something or had taken one too many long walks on the Thames alone.

I was well surprised when I read that earlier this year, Sennett wrote a book about crafts, simply titled The Craftsman. And I was even more surprised when an interview I did about my craft book, Knitting for Good! was on the same radio show this week as an interview with Sennett on his craft book! The second I found out, I was immediately reminded of the day we went around the table at the Centre and told our advisor (mine was Michael Keith) about the ideas we had for our dissertation…many of them based on the theories and books we had read during the previous year. I still remember several of me peers saying, “Knitting?!? Really?!?”

Four years later, Sennett and I are interviewed about crafts on the Wisconsin Public Radio show To the Best of Our Knowledge along with Handmade Nation’s Faythe Levine and Cortney Heimerl. The show, “Reconsidering Craft,” can be listened to online here. What a strange, small world.

Rediscovered The Faint this morning. Just what I needed.

Now In Stereo.

| Betsy

This Christmas card, from Fine Cell Work is by far, my favorite Christmas card this year. Maybe even of all time.

I like the humanity it brings to what is normally thought as inhumane or deviant. I like that it highlights a part of our communities that might have been forgotten about, people who might have been forgotten about. I like how it communicates quietly that the holidays just aren’t for the ones who are out shopping in malls or wrapping presents and setting up the tree.

The holidays are for the lonely, the forgotten, the abused, the ill, too, and not just for those who try to make this holiday “the best one yet!” And they’re not about money and acquisitions and wish lists. They’re about recognizing love and joy and kindness…wherever they might find you.

Fine Cell Work is an charity that teaches needlework to inmates and sells their work. From their site,

Fine Cell Work is a Registered Charity that teaches needlework to prison inmates and sells their products. The prisoners do the work when they are locked in their cells, and the earnings give them hope, skills and independence.

Savings reduce the likelihood of offenders returning to crime. Prisoners often send the money they earn from Fine Cell Work to their children and families, or use it to pay debts or for accommodation upon release.

The inmates are all instructed by volunteers, many of whom have been taught at the Embroiderer’s Guild, the Royal School of Needlework and the world of professional design. Once trained, they can be responsible for difficult commissions done to deadlines, and support other inmates who are still learning.

Much of their finished work is traditional, but my favorite piece is a cushion of a prison calendar. After going to a sale of theirs in London a few years back, it’s been a pleasure to watch their online shop grow in designs and medium. Their work is always well-done, so I wasn’t surprised to see this excellent holiday card pop up in my inbox!



And in book news:

Today! (December 9)
*An interview I did with Open Mind was broadcast, and will be repeated again on December 14!

Tomorrow! (December 10)
*I’ll be talking about how you can use your craftiness for good at 7.30 in Raleigh at Quail Ridge Books!
*After the event, I’ll be doing a live interview with the wonderful Feminist Magazine on KPFK in Los Angeles, which will be broadcast online and on Pacifica Radio! I’m the last person interviewed on the show tomorrow, so listen up around 10.40 EST!

p.s. you are awesome.

| Betsy

Lately, I’ve a bad case of the “enoughs.” I’m not brave enough, smart enough, thin enough. I’m not pretty enough, tough enough, cool enough. I’m a million different things, but not “enough” of any of them. Whenever the “enoughs” strike, I’m forced to realign where I’m going and how I want to get there. (See a post from the last time the “enoughs” hit here.) The “enoughs” are not discriminatory or unique to me, battling the “enoughs” is a part of being human. They’re a part of humanity that we don’t often let the world see because in this age of bigger and better and richer, to not be enough of something equals failure. But I am enough, even as I battle the “enoughs!” It’s only in the battle and admission of it, that we can gain ground.

It is in the swinging and struggling and searching and attempts to achieve against our own negative thoughts and those of others that we learn the compassion and the empathy and the depth that it takes to be fully alive. And ironically, the very battles that make us more human and more understanding and more compassionate are the very battles we tend to hide, only wanting to show our best sides and behaviors. The giant flaw of this logic being, of course, is that it’s our weakest sides that make us who we truly are.

It’s our vulnerabilities and quirks that help us foster closeness, not just our strengths. Our fight to be “enough” and fear of not adding up lock horns and call a stalemate. What a wicked irony that what can connect us best is what we fear disclosing most, as without disclosure we’re only sharing self-edited versions of ourselves, not actually our selves at all?

I was reminded of the trick to silencing the “enoughs” this morning when a friend of mine emailed me a link to the work of micro sculptor Willard Wigan. As a result of severe dyslexia, Wigan can neither read nor write, but he found a teeny tiny outlet for communication and creativity outside of those cultural expectations. He battled the “enoughs,” ignored the constructs that got in his way and embraced his skills, allowing for a landing just where he was supposed to be. I’ve met some people who could neither read nor write who tried to hide it, ashamed of the fact, when disclosing it would have led to creative problem solving or help instead of mockery.


And why yes, that is Cassius Clay and Sonny Liston duking it out in a boxing ring smaller than the head of a match. Refusing to ignore his creative side and refusing to believe others who doubted his intelligence, Wigan has discovered an incredible talent and an unending font of patience via his artwork. He makes sculptures, sculptures that are so tiny, that he has at least on one occasion, inhaled his work and had to start all over again. In fact, his sculptures are so amazing that I can’t stop sneaking a peek at them as I’m typing, trying to get my head completely around their awesomeness. (I mean, really, when was the last time you saw sculptures of Snow White and her seven dwarves showcased inside the head a pin?!)

In allowing himself to step outside of what was culturally expected of him, Wigan took the path towards becoming enough and found his life’s work on the way. In daring to look outside the mainstream construct of enough, Wigan redefined it by devising his own limits and goals instead of letting others set them. He is a reminder of how to follow your own path even though you don’t know where your next step will fall, in the belief that that net will appear. He is a reminder of how we are all enough– despite cultural definitions. we just need to heed the urge to seek it, fight it, and trust its wisdom.

You are enough, you just seek it, find it, define it own your own terms, in order to keep the “enoughs” at bay.

1. For the disbelievers, you can verify it here.
2. A big thanks to The Guardian for including me on their techonology blog roll today!