Virginia Johnson’s project “You Belong Here” at her Cambridge, MA, shop, Gather Here is not just important, but given the current state of things here in the United States, it is imperative.
You can see more entries to the project on Instagram and read more about the project (with a quote from me too!) here.
1. What is your definition of craftivism?
Craft + activism = craftivism. Seriously. We are huge advocates for handcraft, working with your hands to create something tangible is a form of resistance in a world that so often focuses on consumption. And many people pickup crafting because they discover they are craving a means of expression that also will allow them to slow down and focus on the moment. They begin to create for others and in those acts make the greater a community a better place.
2. How did you come to collect stitched pieces that say You Belong Here? What moved you from idea to action?
Post-election Cambridge, Massachusetts was a pretty gloomy zip code. This is a place that really believes that women’s rights are human rights. That there is always room for refugees. That love is love. I was talking with a 9 year old girl a few weeks later and she was wearing a tshirt that said, “You Belong Here.”
Her mother had made it for their family post-election so that they could reassure the people in their neighborhood that they were important to the community. I got choked up listening to this young girl explain that just because leaders say hateful words doesn’t mean we need to accept them. That night I sketched out a large embroidery and patchwork banner that said “YOU BELONG HERE”.
When I woke up I knew I needed to ask the community to join me in this effort because it would be our combined voices that would drown out the hate. When I told the young girl about the project she hugged me and committed to making her own cross stitch version.
3. What has been the most surprising thing about the project?
I honestly thought it would be only interesting to our surrounding community. Like people who physically come in and visit the shop. I was surprised when I started seeing people who live all over the country posting photos of their works in progress on Instagram. And suddenly the signs began to come in the mail!
4. Is there anything you wish you would have done differently?
I wish I had thought to do an actual physical community event where people could work on their pieces together. I heard from many stitchers that they took on the project because they needed to create something positive. I think people really need to have places they can go to feel included and accepted. And working on such an inclusive message would have been great to do together.
5. What project(s) are you going to do next?
I’m currently collaborating with a letterpress artist to produce some inclusive message posters that we can share with other small businesses. Boston Mayor Marty Walsh gave an incredibly impassioned speech advocating for sanctuary cities. I was inspired and am committed to spreading the message of inclusiveness far and wide.
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.
Simply put, the act of stitching gives us agency. That’s why I’ve been making hats for the pussy hat project. I’ve been knitting my way back into action one step at a time. Too often I make to-do lists that are grand and have massive goals, like “be more productive,” which, while aspirational, don’t help much at all, really.
What does help is the act of creating something from two sticks and string. I can watch it grow in my hands, I can see it take shape, I can literally track my production.
Textiles (along with other crafts) give us time to process. We can rip out what is not working, in both our hands and our heads. We can be inspired by the actions of others. We can join the others that came before us, stitching along with them.
Textiles are catalysts for action. They show us that action isn’t taking one massive step, it’s taking lots of little steps and stitches from which to build on. Like the stitches our hands make, one stitch becomes two stitches becomes two thousand. And in this way, textiles show us how to move forward.
I’m going to the march in DC because when I interviewed some of Australia’s knitting nannas, one of them (Louise Somerville!) told me they started showing up at mining sites to let the companies know they were watching. (Apparently that was boring so they brought their knitting- and the badassery only grew!) I am going to the march not in anger or rage, there will be no yelling for me.
Because when I’m angry, I lose my capacity to make the world a better place. That’s my focus, seeing what craftivist-type work people make, maybe passing out some #yasvb signs and taking some photographs to share with you.
Do I hope our next president makes the world a better place? Yes. Despite all my feelings, I still have hope that there will be some good done. But I will watch. I will not yell, I will not scream, I will not rage. I will continue to work quietly towards making the world better stitch by stitch, the more that want to stitch along, the better.
And that’s just my reason. There are 200K other reasons. And we don’t have to agree on why we’re going. We just have to agree that showing up in our hats is a mark of resistance. A handmade notation that “this is not okay.”
That we sat down and made hats in our own time means that we care enough to take tiny action steps. For some, we may make out of anger, chomping at the bit, but, for others, we may be stitching to embolden ourselves to speak our truths on the matter.
These stitches we make we make to remind ourselves we have agency, our voice matters, we are not alone. They can help us stitch our ways into being activists of whatever sort of activist we wish to be. What matters is that we make these stitches, that we show ourselves that we are strong enough to make something from nothing.
And, along the way, if we meet others with the same hats or wishes or stitches, we can meet their strength with our own and stand together.
Our stitches do more than just make hats, they jolt us into being and becoming agents of change. They show us what is possible. They show us we are powerful. They are the sparks that remind us that change only happens when we take the first step, take the first stitch.
With them we join a legacy of makers, a thread extending both into the past and present, who have our backs too. And in both directions, we can make our voices heard loud and clear, we just need to be brave enough to listen to our hands and our hearts first.
So, if you’re not sure where to start or what to feel or what to do, first, stitch. Then the rest will come.
For me craftivism is a form of expression and an art movement. But it’s also a means to an end. Craftivism is not only beautiful things made with love and usually by hand. It has a purpose. It’s an invitation to talk about certain things in the most beautiful way. We craftivists expose and talk about sometimes very difficult subjects and things people don’t particularly want to talk about. I feel most of us are trying to change the world. Even if that is an impossibility. We try. We make. We fight. We talk with no words.
I’ve been working under the craftivism ideas and terms, even before I knew what it was. After reading your book (Craftivism: The Art of Craft and Activism) I can finally put a name to what I do.
My usual subjects revolve around sustainability issues in the textile industry. I graduated in 2011 as a Textile Designer from University of Buenos Aires. During my studies I learned not only about the technical and creative part of my career, but also about all the parts that nobody knows like workers’ exploitation, water contamination and wasteful use of natural and manmade resources (just to name a few), that make this industry the second-most pollutant industry in the world.
I specialize in recycled and repurposed textiles. They are my language. That’s not the only material I use, but it’s the main one.
I combine them with embroidery and other technical means that are part of the contemporary (and not so contemporary) textile arts, with the idea of giving them a second chance of being things, when somebody said they didn’t have value anymore.
Just by using those textiles and not other ones (like new ones) I try to make the conversation gravitate to  issues of hyperproduction, consumerism, and upcycling of discarded human products and materials through an artistic view.
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#Thewishproject: recycled textiles cranes
2. Tell me about the Wish Project. What is it and how did it get started?
The Wish Project is my first craftivist project. At least my first defined as craftivism. It started forming in my head after I read your book, actually. I was so inspired!
The Wish Project is born from a deep personal need of doing something for others. I got tired of walking by people on the street and seeing and feeling that they weren’t having a good day. And it made me really sad. I live in Buenos Aires, a big city in Argentina. And everybody is always running somewhere, preoccupied by something. We are a third-world country, hoping and trying to grow every day. Economically, culturally and in terms of social justice.
So I thought, what can I do? To change those long faces. To give them something to smile for. To, at least for a moment, make their problems go away. Because I couldn’t tackle all of our issues by myself. So I wanted to do something small. But meaningful.
On the other hand, while talking with a friend I realized I always loved origami paper cranes. I find them gorgeous objects. Made with a purpose. Made for a wish. With love and care. You can’t do origami without your heart in it. It just doesn’t turn out right.Â
So I combined those two things: my love for cranes and my wishes of happiness for others.Â
But I made them in recycled textiles. After a process of finding the way to harden the fabric, so it would not crumble. I had to make my special means of expression do something it’s not meant to do. That is to technically work as paper.
So I made the 1,000 cranes, as the legend says to do. And started setting them loose on the street. And as I made them and set them free I wished for a beautiful day for whoever finds one on their way. Hoping for smiles and an energy shift on their day.Â
It seems like a silly project. But those little objects made with love and care, set in a place where they don’t necessarily belong and crossing paths with unexpected people, really have a beautiful effect on people.
With #thewishproject I’m not particularly trying to change the world. I’m trying to change the immediate world of one person. Or better said, one thousand persons. But I’m happy with just one. And that’s the powerful effect of handmade objects on people. Handmade objects are made with, from and for love. Whoever finds one of my cranes knows that somebody out there is wishing them well. Even if they don’t know me. Even if they never will.
3. Upcycling is often a part of your work, which features a criticism of fast fashion. Are the pieces from fast fashion themselves and is there a conflict there?
Yes. Some of them are from the fast fashion industry. Some of them aren’t. Some are vintage pieces.
I tend to use textiles without thinking where they come from. With this I mean that for me every textile has value. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Even though I sometimes use them to criticize the industry that makes them.And even when you think its quality is the worst, they can always be used for something else. I hate seeing things being discarded just because somebody doesn’t want them anymore. Just think about all the people needed to make a pair of jeans. Think about all the resources needed to make them. All the energy used. It can’t just end up in the garbage can because its fit is not fashionable anymore.
But I do not think it is conflicting. If I use fast fashion textiles, they are never bought. I specifically use scraps, leftovers and donations. I never ever buy fast fashion textiles, not only because I don’t like to encourage bad quality textiles and the garments and products that they usually represent (with all of the other issues they also represent), but also, and most importantly, because I don’t need to. I mean, there’s so much material that is discarded and thrown away that it’s not difficult to attain it. And that gives more purpose to what I do. Somebody has to do something with all of those resources (good or bad) that still work, technically speaking.
Why not use their own materials, to let them know the things they do wrong, or the things they could do better? I think it’s its own irony.
With vintage materials there is a whole other conversation. They represent time and quality. I’ve had the pleasure of receiving textiles from the 60s and 70s. And only the fact that I could get my hands on them is incredible. That they could still be used. And somebody took the time (and space) to keep them safe. All of those things make me appreciate them even more. They survived time. They had emotional value for somebody. Vintage textiles make me think about our relationship with our objects, their connection with our history and people. Those textiles are extremely powerful in themselves. No matter what I do with them, they have history, which doesn’t usually happen with fast fashion garments.
Despilfarro (in English: “Squandering): recycled textiles, recycled wire, recycled wood base, thread. Currently on exhibition at the Quinquela Martin Museum in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
4. It looks like you’ve had your work in several shows this year. In a world where everything can be shared across the world in an instant on Instagram, what were the benefits of these in-person shows?
I feel like both means of communication has its values.Â
Internet and virtual communication allows me to talk with people around the world. People with the same interests than me. It allows my art to touch more people. To make the conversation global. To experience different reactions that are based on local experiences and ways of living.
Also on Instagram I usually share a section of a work in progress. A small detail of a bigger work. I find it’s a good tool to zoom in on the craft part. I like sharing pictures where you can appreciate each stitch. Zooming in on a stitch is also my way of making the technique the center of attention, and not the whole piece. It’s like showing a stroke of an Impressionist painting.
On the other hand, art shows allow the viewers to interact with an art piece with time. They see, they watch, they feel in an environment that is made for that experience. And they see the whole piece. They can linger on a stitch if they want to.
Personally, on the opening day, I can experience their reactions live. Not by text or emoticons. I can see their faces, their expressions. It’s completely different.Â
Being an artist and an activist, reactions from the public are a big part of my work. If my art doesn’t leave you thinking about some of the issues I try to talk about… I don’t want to say I did something wrong, but almost ha ha. I mean, if that doesn’t happen, my work is not done.
There is a message in my art. A message that should make you think and rethink. It should inspire you. But it is also true that sometimes the intertext is lost. Some of my work are seen as just textile works, when in fact they are textile works specifically made with recycled fabrics as a decision. That sometimes isn’t easy to see. But my artist heart tells me, that’s okay too. I couldn’t stop making, even if nobody gets it ha ha.
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13206 CentÃmetros de Basura Textil (in English: “13206 Centimeters of Textile Trash”): upcycled textiles, recycled wood frame
5. Along with embroidering, you also weave, how did you come to connect your craft with activism?Â
Knowing makes all the difference for me. I’m one of those people that once IÂ know something I can’t unknow it. I can’t look the other way. I need to act on that knowledge.
Once I learned about the bad parts of the industry I was supposed to work for, I just couldn’t do it. Not with those rules. For me wasting resources is not a rule. Dyeing fabrics and polluting in the process do not go hand in hand. Making clothes and exploiting workers are not a rule, no matter the circumstances.Â
So I decided to transmit what I learned to others, with the best tools I had, textiles and textile practices. I decided to help and encourage people doing things in this industry with new and better rules. I decided to try to make this subject a part of the conversations of people that do not necessarily talk about them.
I weave, embroider, knit, and sew trying each time to achieve several things: encourage the making with our hands as a mean of expression. Highlight issues about the fashion industry and its destructive practices. Allow my personal needs of making things to have a deeper and more valuable meaning than just my selfishness of making. Yes, and I do strive to change the world. Even if I can’t.
Weaving in particular is a practice so old and so precious. It can be a symbolic way of saying so much. How we connect with others, how we relate. Â It’s a way of relating with ourselves, in the making. With others in the interconnections. And with our world as to what objects we leave behind. I weave fabric, I do not weave thread. I weave that fabric that doesn’t belong to anyone, that nobody wants. I weave from the idea that there is nothing there, because that fabric doesn’t exist because it’s trash. I give life back to what nobody wants. But it’s so transformed that it has value now. It IS again.
I think a lot about the things I make. Why do I make them? What is its purpose? What will happen to it? When I graduated from University I decided I would rather make art that inspires good changes, than products that enlist and encourage practices that are completely wrong for our world.Â
Today’s interview is with Alyssa Arney (A) and Liz Flynn (L) of the awesome craftivist project There is a River Here!
There Is A River Here project sign created by Liz Flynn. Courtesy @thereisariverhere Instagram.
1. How do you define craftivism?Â
L: We define craftivism as any form of art production, action, or creative endeavor that aims to send a message through mediums not often seen as “fine artâ€. It’s an act of activism expressed through the medium of traditionally “feminine†and “interior†craft production, such as scrapbooking, sewing, or, in our case, crocheting. We feel that the act of bringing crochet out into the public eye is a form of craftivism itself, since its public display is subverting its original, unseen, place in the home and private lives of women. We feel that craftivism is a positive way to draw attention to social issues in a world full of aggression and white noise.Â
2. What is the There Is A River Here project?
A & L: There Is A River Here is an environmental, site specific, public art installation in the Martha McClean-Anza Narrows Park in Riverside, CA. It’s curated by independent researcher and curator Carolyn Schutten and is being created by the two of us under the moniker ‘Threadwinners’. We are yarnbombing an outcropping of eight boulders that sit along the Santa Ana River, an environmental landmark that is oft ignored or unnoticed by visitors to the park. The yarnbombing of the boulders is being done in conjunction with a river cleanup event, as well as a dance performance piece, on November 12, 2016.Â
The yarn bombing of the boulders will create an ephemeral river of blue in the natural desert landscape of Riverside, and will hopefully draw people’s attention to the site, the river, and issues of environmental conservation. We’re also hoping that our boulder installation will be able to have a second life. There’s a sizable homeless population that convenes in the area, so we hope that they will be able to deconstruct the installation and use our crochet pieces to keep warm during the cold winter months.
3. How did you come up with the idea and what have you learned while preparing?
A & L: Threadwinners had begun a working relationship with the Riverside Art Museum and Carolyn back in mid-May. We had a crochet piece, Comfort Food Blanket, hanging in the museum and we were hosting a free beginner’s crochet workshop as part of the museum’s Maker Series Saturdays art events. We all enjoyed working with each other so much that Carolyn approached us with her curatorial project, There Is A River Here. She gave us the general idea that she wanted a yarn bomb of the site, and the rest is history! Carolyn has given us free reign on the  aesthetics of the project, so we’ve come up with a variety of themes for each rock. One is all mandalas and circles, another all granny squares. Liz crocheted a blue ombre rock, and Alyssa is currently working on a glacier themed rock. We’re also trying to cover this massive 24-foot boulder with giant stripes, and potentially have a landscape-inspired piece on an enormous flat-faced boulder!
We’ve learned quite a bit in the process of creating this installation, but I think the most significant thing we’ve learned is how excited people are about public art of this nature. Through our calls for donations, as well as Community Crochet Circles we’ve hosted at the Riverside Art Museum, we’ve seen an outpouring of generosity and creativity from people who are excited by our project and want to contribute. We’ve gotten donations of yarn and beautiful needlework from people of various ages and backgrounds, and it’s so uplifting to see that the culture of craftivism and needlework is not limited to a certain niche group of people. We know that most craftivists believe in the accessibility of the movement in theory, and it’s nice to see it in action!
4. What has been the biggest surprise or lesson along the way?Â
A: The biggest surprise is how incredibly generous the community has been with donating pieces and skeins of yarn to aid us in our project. The second biggest surprise is how much yarn we have used and how, just when you think the piece you’ve made is big enough, it still needs to be bigger. These boulders ARE MASSIVE! The biggest lessons are to plan ahead, leave room to alter the design to fit your work schedule and to never give up! Keep working hard and it all really does pay off in the end!
5. What is your dream craftivism project?Â
A: We are in the works of making our dream project happen, but Threadwinners would love to be able to honestly bring the project from sheep to gallery/institution. It would be incredible to show the entirety of the yarn making process and wielding the material into a finished product. First off, sheep and alpacas are adorable, we both wouldn’t mind owning one of each, but I live in an apartment complex so that dream has to be stowed away in a lockbox for a while. We would love to be able to sheer the sheep, spin the wool, dye the yarn with natural dyes like woad, spinach, mushrooms, etc., and then teach people of all ages the importance of craft, art, expression, and eco-friendly and sustainable resources. They would be able to design their own project with all of the information and tools we’ve provided for them to go out in the world and share their art!
L: My dream craftivism project for Threadwinners is similar to Alyssa’s because I would also love to create a yarnbomb out of yarn that has been completely created by our hands, from sheep to skein! I would love to do something insanely large-scale, like covering an office building or a sidewalk block in yarn, with input from kids, veteran crocheters, and everyone in between! Literacy and reproductive rights are issues that I’m concerned with, so my dream craftivism project would probably address something along those lines.Â
Find out more at @thereisariverhere on Instagram. For more about Alyssa Arney, she can be found on Instagram at @smashitupart and at her website. For more about Liz Flynn, she can be found on Instagram at @thelizflynn and at her website.Â
Alyssa Arney (left) and Liz Flynn (right) with in-progress pieces for There Is A River Here. Courtesy Carolyn Schutten.
