Just thought I would check in.

I’ve been missing this place.

I know I posted something very similar a few months ago (I guess feelings of overwhelm are common around here), but it is really hard to fit everything in right now.

I’m trying to evaluate the everything’s place in the grand scheme of things — including blogging.

I highly recommend subscribing to this blog so that you don’t miss it when I do post.

What I worked on this week

• Some collages
• Spectating at the marathon
• Finishing touches on an upcoming giveaway prize. Tune in tomorrow!

5 comments worth reading

I really appreciate the conversation that is generated in the comments section, and each week I highlight 5 thoughts that were particularly keen.

Honorable mention goes to fellow art therapist Megan of When We Were Made who writes:

i had a dream about you! you were getting married and your hubby was carrying you in your wedding dress. which is funny because i don’t even know what you look like.

i know that seems odd, but i think it relates to seeing your turning*turning name in my blackberry inbox in the middle of the night. i have weird dreams but your dress was amazing!

First off, any comment that talks about me getting married totally wins. Unfortunately, in spite of my better efforts, that blessed event does not seem to be in my near future. Megan, if you can scare me up a husband, I promise to make your dream come true! Don’t any of you have a kind, smart, 30-something brother that you want me to meet!?

Back to business, then.

On the entry What to do: Take small steps (which was written after my trip downtown to see the marathon), Sally of Grendelskin gives a good reminder.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who gets flustered by entirely self-imposed deadlines. I, too, have a little hexagon project going, and I have to take a step backwards every once in awhile and remind myself that this is handwork, it’s supposed to be relaxing and that nobody expects it to be finished in record time. Lainie’s right — I’d rather take some interesting detours than be the first to cross the finish line.

The rest of this week’s highlighted comments come from the entry What to do: Set your priorities.

I found this post very provoking. I’m spending quite a bit of time these days considering what compels those of us who make things to do it. In many cases it’s true that it would be less expensive (both financially and in hours spent) to purchase the item in question. But we make these sacrifices because we are compelled to create. I’ve heard it said that it’s an outlet. And on some level I agree. Creatively I feel a need to express myself. Also, I feel calmed by keeping my hands busy – my focus is clarified (perhaps one of the only times I actually feel focused). But why? And therein lies my question. I’m not sure the answer matters but I seek it nonetheless.

From Amy of A Commonplace Life

Culturally we are told to follow the rules and be unique at the same time, an impossible task. The social structure is that you have to belong to a certain group and follow their rules: watch the right tv-series, buy clothes that fit in their parameters, listen to a particular kind of music, visit the ‘right’ places, talk/think so and so about certain subjects. Surely you can change groups but the list stays the same.

To me it is no wonder that there are so many self-help books with the subject ‘find yourself again’. We have this need within us (for some it is strong for other just a little tickle) and it is a very difficult job to do because you have to separate yourself from what you are being fed by everything and everyone and take the consequences with it. Convience foods, tv and all the other things offered are there because of someone elses idea/plan and imposed on us by smart marketing strategies.

Excerpted from Elizabeth of Landanna. (Read the full comment here.)

The time I spend doing what I want makes up for the times I spend doing “chores” in the broadest sense of the word. For example, this morning, I had to do all the usual stuff of getting up, washing, not doing the pile of dishes that’s still waiting to be done, making lunch etc, tedious. But I allowed myself to put one, just one, safety pin into the large quilt I’m pinning together right now, and that somehow helped. Like I treated myself to something

Excerpted from Christine of The Cutting Edge Quilt. (Read the full comment here.)

Good reads around the blogiverse

• Congratulations to my neighbor Jessica of Scrumdillydilly who graduated a couple of weeks ago. This week, she pretty much describes my ideal road trip. Also, this instructional video posted last week has made me smile over and over again. I don’t know why but I can’t stop clicking “play.”
• Ali Hale of Pick the Brain writes an article about why we should read books, not just blogs. I agree with most of these points and they contribute to my ongoing series of book and DVD reviews.
• The Good Human states the obvious, but backs it up with some research reports: Living near trees and green space makes our lives better.
• Elizabeth of Landanna has embarked on a lovely new project she calls Soul Food. It basically amounts to a personal dictionary of symbols, which the art therapist in me just loves. Can’t wait to follow this beautiful project.
• Nicole of Red Tarts met up with William Morris and came away with some great thoughts about taking changes, going all in, and art criticism. Good stuff.
• Judy of Judy’s Journal describes the process of hand sewing in a way that really resonates with me.
• Expect to see a link to Tracey Clark’s guest post on Andrea Scher’s Superhero Journal in an upcoming What to do entry. I’m just sayin’. It’s all about making room.

And finally

Why, yes. I did say giveaway. TUNE IN TOMORROW!

 ★★½☆☆ 

Introduction

Nina Wise is a performance artist who has “taught improvisation since 1972.” Her book, A Big New Free Happy Unusual Life: Self Expression and Spiritual Practice for Those Who Have Time for Neither, boasts one of the longest, most confusing titles I’ve ever read! Clearly, this is a book that aspires to be all things to all people.

I have actually owned this book for many years because a good friend (a free spirit, spritely, fairy of a friend) recommended it to me. In all those years, I have never been able to get through reading the entire book. I decided to give it one more shot before I parted with it, read it cover to cover, then sold it almost immediately after listing it for sale on amazon. I guess that speaks to (a) the popularity of the book, (b) the allure of the title, or (c) my incredible ability to miss the point.

You can read an excerpt of the book on Powell’s.com. You can also skip the overview and get straight to my opinion.

Overview

Here is one of those books that encourages you to either read it all the way through or skip around at will. Its chapters are written in a self-contained way, so that you can take only what you need and leave the rest. The main thrust of the book is that modern life suffers from a lack of freedom and play. Wise has taught workshops for many years which encourage people to lose their inhibitions, try new things, express themselves, move, yell, twirl, and dance their way to personal insight.

If you’re having a hard time envisioning what that means, you may find this video helpful. In fact, there is an entire selection of videos of Nina’s work available to view on YouTube.

Content

The reclamation of our creative spirits is an easy and enjoyable journey. We only need to devote a modicum of courage and short, but regular, periods of time to find our way back to our essential nature, which is unfettered, playful, and free. (p. 7)

Wise wants us to play and experiment and express ourselves. She divides the book into self-contained chapters that cover a wide spectrum of creative outlets, potential collaborations, and (oh, yeah, we almost forgot) spirituality. These topics are:

• Dance and movement
• Singing
• Visual arts
• Writing, words, poetry
• Creating in pairs
• Group play
• Love and passion
• Prayer
• “Bringing art to life — Improvisational Being”

At the end of each chapter, she outlines a few activities and experiments for you to try. She helps out by giving some basic rules that are designed to facilitate freedom and expression while carrying out these activities.

1. Begin each practice from stillness, and take a moment to empty the mind of thought.
2. Be true to whatever you are feeling physically.
3. Respond to emotional impulses as they arise moment to moment.
4. Include everything.
5. Surrender
6. Surprise yourself.
7. Take risks physically and emotionally.
8. Make mistakes.
9. Commit to what you are doing.

And once in a while, she even takes these rules one step further. For instance, apparently dancing newbies need a bit more instruction and cajoling in order to really get the full benefit. So, for the dancing chapter, you get even more recommendations.

1. Commit to what you are doing, whatever it is.
2. Don’t care if you are good at movement or bad at movement.
3. “When you feel confused on your feet, rather than trying to push away the confusion, dive headlong into the morass. When you feel awkward, rather than trying to be graceful, forge deeply into the awkwardness. When you feel stuck, rather than trying to be free, melt into the center of stuckness. When you feel discomfort, rather than longing for comfort, surrender to uneasiness. Be more confused, more awkward, more stuck, more uncomfortable until you fully dissolve into the heart of these feelings. In the core of the place you have most avoided, the most unpleasant feelings dissolve and in their wake, the wildness erupts inside you and insists on speaking itself through your body.”

My take on it

Wise seems like a nice person — even a fun person, an engaging person, a silly, inspiring, “totally awesome” person. According to the book’s endorsements, she is close with some of my favorite writers (Natalie Goldberg, I’m looking at you) but aside from having taught improvisational workshops (whatever that means?) for many years, I’m having a hard time figuring out exactly what her credentials are. Unfortunately, this comes through in the book. Most of her assertions are proven illustrated through anectdotes — experiences that she has had or she has encouraged her students to have. The idea here seems to be that, “Well, just trust me. I’ve seen this work.” Worse, her tone sometimes comes across as a little holy or boastful. It’s probably just me, but I found it to be grating.

It seems that Wise’s specialty is movement/dance, and (judging from videos of her performances) the integration of spoken word with movement/dance. That said, I’m unclear about why she has decided to write a book that encompasses these modes of expression plus visual art, singing, poetry, and other media. Even less integrated is the concept of spirituality (although the subtitle boasts it to be part of this amazing new life you are going to have) which is relegated to one chapter toward the end of the book.

I’m also concerned about her lack of training and expertise in the context of her role as a facilitator, teacher, and educator. For example, she tells the story of post-operatively being instructed to walk around her hospital ward. Well, she and her friends decided to take it one further and dance around the ward. This seems to have aroused glee, exhilaration, and general euphoria in the participants, but as a therapist who works in a hospital setting, I worry. This dancing is thought to have sped up her healing process, but there are many patients for whom this activity may pose a danger or risk. In short, if you can read this book as a general conceptual overview and not actual instructional expertise, you’re probably better off.

Listen, I’m sure that in the early days of licensure, medical doctors balked at the idea of becoming credentialed, licensed, and certified to practice medicine. Lawyers didn’t always have to pass the bar, did they? In this day and age, however, there are credentialing processes in place for becoming an expressive therapist — associations that have been formed to ensure that those who are trying to help others have completed certain levels of training, supervision, and education in their specialties. This is my bias (obviously), but I know a lot of other people who wouldn’t pay someone to even cut their hair unless that person were state licensed to do so. I’m sure the ranks of dance/movement therapists would be only too happy to welcome Nina Wise as a colleague, should she choose to pursue the credential.

I’m hesitant to be so critical. The suggestions and recommendations from the book that I’ve listed above are solid, and are concepts that I use with my clients and in my own art-making. Even still, I find the book to be a little too much — too many topics, too wide a scope, too broad a base. It’s pretty obvious throughout the book that dance and movement are her forte; even the “additional tips” in the dancing chapter lead me to wish that Nina had focused on her specialty instead of reaching out in every direction.

Rating

 ★★½☆☆ 

Overall, I give this book 2.5 stars.

The pros: Fun, “unfettered” suggestions to free up your creativity and launch you into creative expression. The author seems to practice what she preaches and has a passionate connection to the topic. There is a little “something for everyone” here, if that’s what you’re looking for.

The cons: Beyond personal experience, the author does not seem to have any credentials, education, or certification to back up what she suggests. The book tries to cover too much ground and to be all things to all people. Sometimes the message of the book gets lost in the author’s personal anectdotes and reminiscence.

Who is it for? I think you’ll benefit most from this book if you are an uptight, corporate, or tightly-wound person who has never made time for creative expression in your life. If you sense that some element of creativity is missing, but have no idea where to start or what might most appeal to you, this book is for you. It will give you a tiny taste of every major expressive media and encourage you to experiment. Then, once you have found a niche or a direction, maybe you can branch out and find your way. In other words, this book is best suited for absolute beginners in the world of creativity.

I’ve been teaching my dear friend/ex-boyfriend how to cross-stitch and he’s making good progress with Obama. I’ve photographed it with a US quarter coin to show you scale. This is Aida 11-count fabric, and he is stitching over two squares with double threads of DMC floss to give the largest, boldest effect possible. The finished product, which was originally designed to be about 3″x5″, will be larger than a sheet of typing paper when it’s done. His careful, meticulous nature is yielding wonderful results and I’ll never get enough of that sweet sight — him in horn-rimmed glasses, beanie cap, and Converse  All Stars hunched around an embroidery hoop.

Between this teaching experience and the recent visit with my mother, I’ve been thinking a lot about the mentor-ly, multi-generational, tutor-iffic nature of traditional textile arts.

Grandma M. was my dad’s mother, and she taught piano lessons. In addition to teaching me how to play the hymns on piano and organ, she also taught me to crochet and to follow a simple sewing pattern. She taught me how to press clothing and how to piece afghans. The only thing that Grandma M. was unable to successfully teach me was tatting (but we tried — oh, how we tried!).

Granny V., my mother’s mother, was a school teacher and a librarian and she lived on a self-sustaining farm. Granny V. taught me to bake bread, to grow my own food, and to knit. Embroidery, cross stitch, french knots, and needlepoint were activities I also did with Granny V.  She encouraged me by choosing patterns and motifs that she knew I would like. She was patient and understanding of me as a petulant teenager whose whims would change on a dime. She would set up huge quilting frames in her front room and we would stitch together with the aunties for hours on end — cackling about this or that and “solving the world’s problems.”

A required Home Economics class in Junior High did me little good, as I had already learned to construct basic clothing and household items from my mother. Mom understands the basics of fitting clothing and working with utilitarian fabrics, but she is also a gifted quilter. When I take the time to

In a recent bestowal of good fortune (that is, in a box of discards from mom’s craftroom), I found this book:

 I bring it up here because of its dedication page:

She nods to the artists of the past and passes her knowledge along to us, the artists of future generations. Later, I’ll explore a little bit more about this mentorship, multi-generational thing and why it may be so unique to textile arts.

What about you? Who taught you? Whom have you taught?

Now that the french knots are temporarily put to rest, I am back to the hexagons. Last night, I pulled out the box of basted hexes and laid them out randomly, testing out color combinations and feeling very satisfied with the results.

This project definitely does chew up a lot of time. But, I find the stitching so meditative and a little bit sweet, so I don’ tmind it at all. Because the hexes are so small, it’s a breeze to do this work during my subway commute. I’ve got my supplies packed in a small plastic container and as long as I’ve got a seat, I can stitch about 10 hexes before I get to work and another 10 on the way home.

This is the first in a series of guest posts written by fellow bloggers. I’m so pleased to introduce this series by featuring Emma, whose blog furrybees includes thoughtful, well-written posts about her experiments with embroidery, crochet, clay, poetry, and other creative media. If you’d like to write a guest entry about your creative process, please don’t hesitate to contact me!

Thanks to Mal* for giving me this opportunity to reflect on meaning and creativity.  Her blog is a welcome dose of thoughtful reflection on the creative process.

I credit creativity with great powers of restoration.  (I also sometimes credit it with great powers of anxiety-making, but that’s another story.)  This story is about the intimate connection between identity and creativity and how one lost, academically-minded woman found her way slowly back to herself, or one part of her self, through crochet, embroidery and the vagaries of an old Rolls sewing machine she inherited from her grandmother.  As with most stories, there are many ways of telling it and many ways of making sense of it.  Here is one.

I began a PhD in feminist theory and applied ethics in February of 2001.  “What’s that!?”, I hear you ask.  Well, I thought it would be a good idea to try and write a long treatise on the different ways women can feel both powerful and powerless (for don’t we, at some point, feel both as we go about our days?) and how that affects the way we see others, how we treat them, and, more importantly, how we should respond to them. 

I felt a tentative enthusiasm for my new life at first, and had a thinly sketched idea of what kind of a person I thought I should be as an academic.  I would be brilliant (making immediate and spontaneously fabulous connections between ideas), a quick reader of complex academic writing, and an inspired and prolific writer.  I imagined that I would find joy in books and ideas, relish in the mystery and detective work of research, and flourish in the quiet solitude of the contemplative academic life.  And, in many ways, I did.  Or, I tried hard to, at least.  However, just as virtues can swing to vices, my vision of who, and how, I was supposed to be began to distort. 

Over time, I wondered if I would drown in the books and ideas, if the mystery of my research would ever resolve itself, and if the isolation I felt – alone in my cubicle and alone in my academic field – would ever abate into a quiet, enjoyable solitude.  Needless to say, I felt adrift in this new life and my sense of self — my sense of knowing with any certainty who I was and what I was capable of — began to erode.

However, sometimes the universe intervenes and saves you from yourself. 

Two things happened almost simultaneously.  Firstly, after one of our many chats full of existential angst, a good friend and I decided we needed to pursue activities that would keep us “in the moment” and give our minds a break from the constant self-analysis that could leave us tied in complex knots.  So, she began to knit and I, spontaneously, bought and began a small cross-stitch bookmark that came in kit form from the local supermarket (of all places) — something I’d never previously contemplated and probably associated it unfairly, and in a dreadfully ageist way, with “granny” and her projects for idle entertainment.  I finished it quickly and was surprised by the strange, glowing satisfaction that followed.

Shortly thereafter, another close friend announced she was pregnant (the first to start the inexorable tide of pregnant friends that were to gradually follow).  In imagining which gift would be appropriate for her and her new one, I remembered how she’d laboured over a crocheted baby’s blanket for another friend’s first baby.  I had watched as, with each stitch, she hoped her friend would cherish this blanket and see it as the lovingly created heirloom that it was intended to be.  I knew I wanted to give the same to her. 

Except for one small matter – I didn’t know how to crochet.

Enter Google and exit, at least for a small part of every day, my PhD project.  Before long, my isolated cubicle was filled with the vibrant energy of a new research project that tugged at my attention and constantly tempted me away from more scholarly pursuits.  Within a short time I had taught myself to crochet and after much thought given to style (interesting but not too “interesting”), colours (no pastels!) and textures (definitely soft and snugly) I made a small white woollen baby’s blanket, in a repeated shell pattern, with a navy blue shell border.

Those humble beginnings created a kind of urgency in me to keep making things, as well as an insatiable desire to find out about different textile-related arts and crafts.  I quickly picked up embroidery and then sewing things of my own design on an ancient, one-stitch sewing machine gifted to me by my mother’s mother before she died.  With each new skill revealed, with each thrifted piece of fabric transformed, and with each project worked I felt excitement, satisfaction, and accomplishment.  And I felt a kind of existential relief.

It’s only recently, with time and distance (figurative and literal – I moved from Australia to Canada in 2007) that I have been able to reflect on these happenings and how they served to create the woman I am today.  My academic life, then, was a world where I felt lost – adrift in a sea of ideas and competing claims to the “truth” – and where I felt powerless, alone and strangely unskilled at being able to find The Answer to my research questions.  To make matters worse, the academic identity I had tried to fashion to help me with this task was uncomfortable, difficult and ill-fitted to me.  In hindsight, it is no surprise that the methodical learning, grasping and practising of different creative techniques would help to mend the frayed edges of self left by the uncertainties and difficulties of my scholarly life. 

Seeking solace in creativity taught me new lessons about my self.  The gentle, achievable goal of taking stitches, one at a time, of learning new skills, one step at a time, and the act of holding and working with the tactile pleasures of fabric, thread, buttons and beads enabled me to witness a different Emma emerge – someone who was competent, creative, inspired and capable of beginning and finishing projects both big and small.  It is no wonder that I often struggled at that time to choose between the mesmerising meditation of crochet and the tumult of working with complex feminist ethical theory. 

So, I credit my creative life with both restoring a sense of my self to me and with providing the space to begin to imagine a new sense of who I am and who I might become.  Some days as I dream up new ideas in my workspace, or sew up a new creation for another new being fresh to our world, I am aware that there is a dual process of creation going on: one with thread and needle, fabric and hoop; and one with me and my ever evolving sense of my self.

Emma Woodley aspires to be a creator of beautiful, meaningful, useful things.  She is currently trying on the identity of “textile artist” for size. You can follow her adventures in being Creative and Courageous (New Year’s resolutions that delight her on some days and haunt her on others) on her blog furrybees.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

1. The a-ha moment

Would you like to be a guest author on turning*turning.com? I’m especially interested in reading about your creative process and the emotions that are related to art-making. Could you share about a project that you found particularly meaningful? Does making art help you to cope in some way? Do you have associations with certain colors, media, or motifs? Check out the guidelines and then please contact me! (photo by joehardy)