misc.

Yet to be categorized.

The Unbearable Lightness of Feeling Surprise

| Betsy

I spent much of this past week at the beach with no wireless access. All of the adults (10 of us) were slightly annoyed by not having access, but as we were soon entertained by one of the children (5 of them under 8), no one was too terribly bothered. And it was nice to not be chained to a laptop, to knit and listen to family stories, to play cards with the little ones, and to color princesses with my niece.

I wrote a blog post about being surprised, and how rare that really is these days. Here’s part of it below:

“Given that I live in the world today, with its daily tragedies and horror stories from somewhere in the world, I, like you, don’t get surprised often. It takes a lot to generate true feelings of “wow.” In fact, these days, unless you’re a weasel riding a woodpecker or some newly discovered animal trick (like learning why octopi carry around coconuts) I’m pretty much left unshaken. So, most days I am begging internally for something to surprise me, even if I didn’t fully recognize it until yesterday.

But hearing the reaction from the family members of the Charleston victims, had me gobsmacked. In the best, that-is-amazing kind of way. And it took my days to digest such a powerful act. However, it’s not surprising given that the victims were shot in a place of worship and came from families of faith. But in today’s news, when so many so-called churches are preaching hate and intolerance, their response of forgiveness surprised me in the best of ways.

Their response showed more strength than ten times the number of individuals. It shows true down-to-the-bone strength that may bend, but never break. And it’s such a rare true thing that people fully listen to what they have to say and are on their side even more. They are not seen as weak, but as tough. And good. I can’t think of another time in my life where the actions of strangers have reduced me to tears. But they showed us what it is to be fully human. And as a result of their forgiveness they will heal. Perhaps not fully from their great loss, but they will not become consumed by hate.”

And then, today, I was surprised again. This time by such good news that I could barely contain myself, as this now means that many of my friends have the opportunity to get married in their own home states.

“It is my hope that the term gay marriage will soon be a thing of the past, that from this day forward it will be simply, marriage,” he said. “All Americans deserve equal dignity, respect and treatment when it comes to the recognition of our relationships and families.’’  – Jim Obergefell

Despite the one hater in this video, it’s been great to check out the #LoveWins hashtag on Twitter and see tons of happy Facebook posts about SCOTUS’ ruling.

 

After a few sad weeks here in the US and being shaken by acts of ignorance followed by acts of forgiveness, one which made you question humanity, and another that made you fall in love with it more, today’s win for love, was another surprise, but this time it was a welcome one.

And you know what? Such amazing news of equality just feels good. Deep down into your bones good. It’s been a long time since U.S. news had this big of a win, really, given the news normally reported. I think I’m going to savor this moment of feeling good tonight. And take in how good it feels to be happy about something our government did, something that affected so many people. Because these days are rare and few and far between.

So take a minute and digest it, too. Let it sink into your bones and fill you up. Let yourself be happy with the happy today. And joyful that for today at least, love truly does win.

 

Craft Is About The Making, Not About “Moral Virtue”

| Betsy
While these cats in this 1915 Henry Whittier Frees may feel superior to you, it's probably because they're cats, not because they're sewing.
While these cats in this 1915 Henry Whittier Frees may feel superior to you, it’s probably because they’re cats, not because they’re sewing.

Thank all of you last week, who read, shared, and commented on my rebuttal post to Emily Matchar’s NYT op-ed piece and my post about why Etsy owes its sellers nothing, despite recent (and disappointing) changes. Those pieces were nearer and dearer to my heart than most.

One of the things in Matchar’s article that I found most upsetting was this paragraph:

Our hunger for handmade has gone beyond aesthetics, uniqueness and quality. In progressive circles, buying handmade has come to connote moral virtue, signifying an interest in sustainability and a commitment to social justice. By making your own cleaning supplies, you’re eschewing environment-poisoning chemicals. By buying a handmade sweater, you’re fighting sweatshop labor. By chatting with the artisan who makes your soap, you’re striking a blow against our alienated “Bowling Alone” culture.

Because if you actually craft and make things, chances are high you do not do so because of so-called “moral virtue.” You do so because you like it.

And, to be honest, this has less to do with Matchar than it does with people outside of the maker community at large. The people who because they don’t get it, they make up reasons why it’s bad. The people who don’t see that it’s fun to make something for yourself. That seeing alternatives to fast fashion and mass produced is not a superiority thing, it’s a natural thing. Humans have made things much much longer than they have bought them in stores. They don’t know what it’s like to create something with your own two hands. The satisfaction, the sense of accomplishment, the sense of love and care.

To have such a sense of curosity and wonder about how things are being made that we circumvent the mall at times is, as Martha Stewart would say, a good thing. And as happens to most good things, some people that don’t understand turn them into bad things, which happens whenever something comes along that people don’t like or understand. Yes, there are people who make things and buy things because it makes them full superior to some degree. However, assigning that value to someone else just speaks to one thing, the thinker’s own insecurities.

Unless someone comes up and says, “I am better than you for drinking this kale smoothie” or “You suck for not handquilting your bedspread,” you really don’t know what they’re thinking. Yes, you can assign what they’re thinking, but that’s just you making a guess. It’s preying on your insecurities, and then it eats away at you.

Apparently this is my worst nightmare.
Apparently this is my worst nightmare.

Here’s an example. So I go “running” several times a week. It’s actually a combination of running and walking. I am very slow. I am also pretty insecure about running very slow. Since I go running fairly early in the morning or mid-afternoon, I always seem to get passed by a school bus, which is pretty much my worst nightmare. Kids will tell you exactly what they think, and there is a special breed of kids who will yell things that aren’t so nice. There is an insecure part of me that’s worried they will yell something about me being not so skinny or slow or (hell’s bells!) both. This insecurity didn’t pop out of thin air, those comments were lobbed at me when I was a kid. (In other words, I was primed to be somewhat neurotic about it later on.)

I also picked low-traffic streets to run on so I don’t have cross the paths of many people, because, after all, I’m not so good at running and am focusing on breathing, much less panting what would be a very weak and pathetic “hello.” (I’ve since decided on doing a two-finger wave that sporty people and motorcycle people seem to have down cold. At least in my head I’ll look cool.) And, God forbid, when I cross paths with someone even remotely sporty looking, I turn into a 7th grader for a few seconds. Suddenly, I’m thinking that they are thinking that I’m too big to run, too slow or both.

Cut to when I’m back to walking. Someone jogging passes me. I think, “Yay! They’re jogging!,” not “OMG, look at her butt.” Because I am happy to see other people exercising and I don’t care. (And also, I may be still focusing on trying to breathe!) However, they could be fully convinced I’m doing the latter, even though I’m cheering them on in my head. And this waste of psychic energy bemuses and bewilders me, because we all do it, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try and combat it. Or maybe I should put my energy into doing a cool head nod instead of a two-fingered wave.

Because those buses that pass me? Where I’m thinking some kid is going to yell something crappy at me? I realized the other day they’re actually empty. There are no kids. I was getting worried/pissed/annoyed for no reason. I (literally in this case!) made it up. Which is just what we do when we think that someone thinks they’re better than us. We don’t know. We’re assigning our insecurities (poor, slow, not at the weight they want to be, old, the list goes on) to them. We’re -ahem- projecting.

So the next time you think that person pulling out the organic lip balm out of her upcycled purse thinks she’s better than you? They’re enjoying themselves while you’re getting yourself in a snit because you think they think they’re superior. They are happy, you are bitching about something that doesn’t exist. How about going and making something that makes you happy instead of finding things to complain about that only exist in your own head?

Just remember that making is about connecting*. Connecting ourselves to others, connecting our hands to the things we make, connecting our brains to our hearts, connecting, connecting, connecting. By thinking that this connecting is about superiority, you’re missing the whole point. It’s about being fully human and following your curiosities instead of what anyone else tells you to do. Or what you think you should do. In diving in to crafts and handmade, we become better versions of ourselves, not superior versions, but fuller versions of who we really are.

*For more on that, see David Gauntlet’s brilliant book, Making is Connecting.

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10 Things I Learned From Watching Murder, She Wrote

| Betsy

So I’m thinking about starting a bi-weekly craftivist interview series, which I’m asking about in my newsletter today. (Have you signed up? No? Go sign up now then, using the handy thingie near the top right of this post.) Is there anyone you’d like for me to interview? If so, do let me know!

Originally, I had planned to write Part 3 of Craft and Privilege today, but have run out of time. (If you haven’t checked them out already, here are links to Part 1 and Part 2.) I’m in Philadelphia right now to see Carrie Reichardt, but will return with Part 3 when I get back to Durham later this week. I’m writing this in Cafe Olé, which Carrie suggested. They are playing Nina Simone. I never want to leave, but then again it is really gross outside.

Happily, however, I found this, which I wrote awhile ago and still totally love. Because I love Murder, She Wrote. And Angela Lansbury. Jessica Fletcher, forevs, guys.

angela

1. Never apologize unless you do something wrong. Stand your ground at injustice, instead of apologizing for speaking up, even if people think you’re a pesky older woman. (And if they do think you’re a pesky older woman, dazzle them with your brilliance and wit, which they may never see coming.)

2. Offer to help other people, then let them come to you if they want to. When they come to you, offer tea. Preferably from teapots. Cute dainty saucers are great, but any old mug will do.

3. Treat your students as friends and peers. Teaching is a reciprocal process where everyone has something to learn. BONUS: You never know where you will run into them, making every day a possible reunion.

4. Always bring an over-the-shoulder handbag. If the case calls for it, you can swing it like a weapon. (Same goes for pumps.)

5. By dressing up nicely, it’s easier to sneak into places you’re not invited to. No one will notice that you’re really there to investigate. If you’re caught, tell them you know the mayor/owner/diplomat, because if you’re Jessica Fletcher, you probably do.

6. Make friends in high places. This is easily done once you do #5 enough. Seriously, prepare to be amazed at all the hobnobbing you will do while waiting for subpar appetizers in a line at a party.

7. Never be afraid to tap into your “writer’s intuition.” This is extra wise when you are a crack mystery writer who loves to travel. People will think you know what you are talking about making #1 a thing of the past.

8. Always be kind and polite to everyone no matter what their position. This can charm jerks of all sorts- but even if they aren’t charmed, they’ll remember that you treated everyone nicely. Sometimes this comes in extra handy when trying to execute #5.

9. When asked to go out an outing and they’re not sketchy, go. If they are sketchy, politely decline and move on. For reals, Jessica Fletcher goes on some mad adventures… which are super enviable for those of us watching them on our couch. (Ahem.)

10. Be interested in other people and their personal stories. Always. Not only does it give you ideas for characters in future books, it also makes you friends all over the world. This dovetails nicely with #6 if they invite you to stay and you have like your own villa in Italy or something.

On accentuating the positive and embracing failure

| Betsy

fiveforthenewyear

Anxiety. It’s something we don’t talk much about in the craft world. However, it’s something we all face in our own ways and also something you can learn to deal with with the posts at Observer website. We all have our worries, our fears, our insecurities. And to be honest, this is something that the craft world is not good at facing. We are excellent cheerleaders and friends and co-workers and always there to lend support, which has buoyed myself and thousands of others for well over a decade. I have never felt such warmth in a community as I have in the craft world.

However, we are not good when it comes to problems. To sharing them, embracing them, letting others know we are having them. And I think the internet takes a lot of blame here, because we’re all curators of our own feeds. And just like sex sells, so does beauty. And aspiration. I’m not saying we need to do a huge turn and start complaining. But I am saying we need to think about being more honest about our foibles, our flaws, and our troubles. Because if we don’t feel open enough to share a problem or a post that is less than perfect, how strong of a community have we actually built?

Can a full-functioning community be formed on just the positive?

Well, I definitely know it can’t be formed entirely in the negative, so high five for the crafternet not turning into a total jerkfest. While I know that side of things exists, I’m super glad it’s in the minority, so woohoo and hell yeah, way to go, kids! I guess I just have perfection fatigue. I can’t emotionally connect with a photo of your perfect house with nothing out of place, yet I can’t stand to take a photo with too many things out of place, either. Therefore, I, too, am part of the problem. I am tired of it and bored by it, but I’m also trapped by it.

I also think that this also has to do with the fact that we’re all still figuring out this here internet. Because things that go on the internet stay on the internet, I think we’re reluctant to show our imperfect sides because they conflict with who we aspire to be, not necessarily with who we are now.

I’m also tired of initiatives that cost tons and basically offer a person on the other end saying, “you can do it!.” I’m not talking about business coaching, but about hand holding. We should be holding each other’s hands better, but in order to do so, we need to let more of our vulnerability show in order to more holistically connect. That people are lining up to pay money to be told “you, too, can do this!” speaks to the fact that we need more transparency and openness in our own community.

That people are only posting perfection and then others feel that they’re failing because their lives are not that perfect signals to me, a disconnect. One of our own devising. We’ve created a vicious cycle of want and distance. We find ourselves wanting to be like other people, even though we are wanting to be how someone else is purposely presenting themselves vs. how they actually are. And the distance that it’s creating keeps us from interacting authentically and from showing any vulnerability.

That’s what I want out of my community. Shared vulnerability. And that’s why I posted that photo above, a recent Instagram photo. I want to talk about my failures and my goals and receive help and tips as I go, not just receive a “way to go” once I get there, because going on that journey alone is beginning to tire me. Now don’t get me wrong, the “way to gos” have their place, but when comment threads have 25 “way to gos” in them, what does that mean? That we’re scared to share our own related story? Too busy to say anything else? That we don’t feel like our story has a place there? That we’re too thinly spread? Or maybe everyone else is backchanneling all these discussions? I guess I just feel that we get so stuck on selling ourselves and our competencies, we forget to share where we’re not moving forward. Or when we do share, we fear that we’re sharing too much.

Last week in my newsletter, I spoke about two different initiatives. One, a secret Facebook group about growth and failure. We’re still figuring it out and it may fail, but I hope it at least gives people a place to share where they want to go and what problems they’re facing. And somewhere to talk about the process of getting to where you want to be. (If you’re into it, add me on Facebook and message me that you’d like to join!) And the other, I’m starting to do freelance work, and even have a little freelance website set up over here. I’ve been editing for years and love helping people find their authentic voices and strength in their own words. And it’s scary. I literally feel like I’m standing on a very thin branch, even though I know that not everyone feels comfortable with their written words, whether they’re still percolating in their head or whether they’re on a website or about to go to print.

And I’m wondering why no one else talks about how freakin’ thin that branch really is. How scary it is to find yourself without the infrastructure that a day job provides and to create a new one. Because there is no path to follow if you’re working from your own heart. There is no promise of a net, yet you know the only way one will appear is if you jump wholeheartedly. Holy hell! And how, yes, how the threat of failure becomes excessively real in a way you never even imagined, because you’re so busy being terrified of hitting the ground that you can’t even imagine that the net will appear. So you stand there, paralyzed, waiting for someone else to make the decision or possibly a heavy gust of wind, when in fact, nothing is going to happen if you don’t decide to move.

But maybe I’m just speaking to myself here. Maybe I’m on that branch all alone. Maybe it really is just me. But, you know what? That’s okay. Really truly honestly okay. I love my friends and peers and colleagues, especially those that are crafty. And I adore beyond belief the community that has been made. But I need to say that I am scared and terrified and really truly not sure everything is going to work out. And as much as I love the “you can do its” and “way to gos,” sometimes I really just need to hear a “me too.”

So here’s a little tiny callout for more “me toos” in the world. Maybe you need to hear a “me too,” too. If you do, let me know either in the comment section or via email. I’m glad to lead the tiny charge in the hopes it can make a crack in the foundation that leads to more shared vulnerability and to an even stronger community. Because we need “me toos” as much as we need “way to gos” in order to grow to our fullest potential, in order to see and hear that we are not alone. Or maybe it’s just me and that’s okay, but I needed to say this anyway just in case one of you out there is thinking “me too,” too. Because it’s not just you, it’s me, too.

CAFAM, Male Quilters, and the Death of Ironic Craft.

| Betsy

First of all, I want to say that I think all the quilters participating in CAFAM’s Man-Made: Contemporary Male Quilters are both amazing and amazingly talented. It’s a show I’d like to see; however, its title is one that I think needs some unpacking, so it and its ilk can be vanquished to the past once the show is over.

Every time gender orientation is used to denote a separateness in craft, it’s just one skip and jump away from exploiting difference as a moneymaker vs. celebration of that difference. When the craft resurgence began at the start of this century, the supposed irony of it was a continued topic of note. When I was talking about writing my uni dissertation on knitting and community development, one of my advisors was literally gobsmacked and said something to the effect of, “I would expect you to be researching punk rock tattoo parlors instead of knitting!” He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

This kind of reaction quickly led to a reframing of feminism, in that now we could use a drill and knitting needles and pay our own way, there was no need to shy away from work in the domestic sphere. I was one of many who wrote essays and columns about this, about the transitions that feminism had taken to get where we could knit our own items and not feel guilty (as some of the women I knew did). Given that being young and knitting was seen as such a cultural juxtaposition, it was ripe for the intrusion of irony.

Therefore, all the needlework done by our grandmothers was seen as uncool and of times gone by, because we, the tattooed, pierced, thrift store-clad ones, knew what was hip. But what we forgot to see was that one day, our work will also be seen as uncool and of times gone by. We will become our grandmothers. And instead of taking our grandmothers’ work and praising it for skill (because it’s still skill even if you don’t like the aesthetic choices, right?), it was mocked at large, as something done of a different, less-hip era. And we should be ashamed of ourselves, because irony is not cool, it’s a tearing down of someone else’s vision in order to elevate yourself, nothing more.

So, in this light, when I saw posts about this show at CAFAM, I was astounded that this was still an angle with which to reach people. That this was still something that is deemed necessary. That the best curatorial solution here was “Look! It’s dudes who quilt?! Isn’t that hilarious/awesome/a novelty? This is so creative!” vs. let’s show some quilts made by people that are inspiring/working with different materials/whathaveyou. Because choosing irony, choosing gender vs. method or skills, as a marker of things to display is a cheap shot in the light of all the other amazing things people are creating.

And while I wish for this show to be successful and for all the artists within it to gain useful contacts from their being showcased, I also wish that we could put irony to bed. Forever. That we could start looking at craft objects that were created with different aesthetics and see them as valuable for their skill. That we stop putting our grandmothers down in the name of success, because it sounds hip or funny. That we start taking from history in a way that celebrates it vs. mocks its outdated fashions.

Because I don’t find irony funny anymore, especially when it comes to craft. I want to share skills with my relatives, not make fun of their aesthetic choices. I want to stop seeing places, businesses, and museums try to make a quick buck off of irony and show us some badass historical skills instead. Or what people are doing now that needs to be celebrated despite what their gender orientation is. I know that people that look like me may not be expected to knit or make things by hand, even now, 15 years on, but we do, and it’s awesome. We should be turning the “What? You knit?” questions around and asking, “Do you make anything by hand?” and share knowledge instead.

But first, we need to work on our relationship with the past a bit, vs. trying so hard to forget about it. We need to stop using the past’s aesthetic choices against them, because all those felted cozies will look just as out-of-date as those shell-art lanterns in a few years. We need to be okay with the fact that people of all orientations like to craft and that’s not weird or particularly even worth celebrating. So down with irony and its celebration, up with celebrating those that make at all in 2015, because it’s still a beautiful choice. And just by the act of making crafty things, we are all united, no matter what gender or age. To me, that’s what’s worth holding on to and celebrating, our connectedness, not what may appear as different to some.