My mom was a very talented artist. She had an eye for alluring shapes, luscious textures, intricate details that could easily be missed if one didn’t stop to look closely at whatever-it-was. In Florida, we lived on a bayou and the whole back of the tiny house on stilts opened to a view of it, tree and mangrove lined. The bird life there was epic. Alligators glided through the water, occasionally lumbering up the bank into our yard. Oh, do I have some stories about them.
Much of what my mom made included materials found in our yard or on the island. She had this uncanny ability to use the natural contours of something to house or nestle around little sculptures she’d make, usually faces. Once, when I went home for a visit after I’d moved to Vermont, one of the walls in the open space in the middle of our house was adorned with her pieces of art. I was breath-taken. They were exquisite. I went directly into agent-mode, wanting her to get her work into local galleries. I wanted everyone to see what I saw.
After my mom died, eight years ago now, many of the materials she used in her art ended up with me. One piece in particular has hung on the wall in my studio for a long time. It is a material that comes from palm trees and is like netting or burlap. It’s the most amazing material, woven by nature, strong, pliable, beautiful. I’ve wanted to make something with it for years but nothing was coming to me so I let it simply be itself.
Last week, I was in the midst of repurposing a piece I’d made about a year ago for an art exhibit. It was fabric of very fine grey linen, knitted loosely. I wanted it to be something else and was letting myself play. After treating it with a stiffening agent so it didn’t unravel in my hands, I moved it around and “asked” what it wanted to be and netting came to mind. As I sat at my table strewn with materials, I thought about my mom. Then, I invited her to play. What does that mean? I welcomed her to participate in what I was doing. I talked to her in my mind and imagined how she might have approached what I was doing. Then, I remembered the palm netting. It was at that moment when I felt, “oh cool, we’re making something together”. And then I got to it.
When people ask me how I use fiber art or handcrafting to process grief or life events, I know I answer the question, and I have a lot of things to show for my efforts. But in the moments I’m describing here, I got to observe myself while in the process of doing it, and I wanted to share some things that came clear to me. I believe anyone can do this, with whatever materials they have on hand, whether they or their loved ones were/are artistically inclined or not. And by the way, I truly believe all humans are creative beings. Creativity is not just for some people. It is an energy and a gift available to all of us because it resides in us.
Why am I sharing a personal moment like this in such a public way? Because I think about grief and love all the time, and help people process their own when I can. And I can tell you with absolute confidence, creating while in the mindset of connecting with a loved one* or processing grief does something. Many things. Here’s some details:
~ It creates a space in which you can think about and talk to your loved one.
~ It can be playful, which benefits our mental and physical health tremendously. You can read about that here.
~ It fosters the bond between you and the one you are grieving – read about continuing bonds as described by Dennis Klass here.
~ It’s a worthwhile effort, even when the relationship was painful or your grief is complex.
~ You make something meaningful to you. There’s no getting it right or wrong.
~ New thoughts, emotions, and understandings have a way of coming forth when you allow the time and space for them to emerge. When this happens in a creative zone that utilizes some form of action (art making, cooking, gardening, singing/playing music, writing), these shifts are metabolized through the body. All the thoughts and emotions are no longer only housed in the mind, but flow through the body, which can lead to greater peace.
~ You might be able to repurpose things that would otherwise be stuck in a drawer or thrown away.
~ You hang out with yourself, which is something I highly recommend. You are worth your own attention.
This new co-created piece between me and my mom is not finished yet. It’s hanging in my studio in a spot that is important to me and commands my attention. I find myself looking at it and feeling all of the textures and imagining what it will be when it is finished. There’s no rush to get it done and I suppose this is a chance for me to just be in my thoughts with and about my mom. It’s an ongoing invitation…
Until next time… ~ bradie
* I often use the term “loved one” to refer to the person we are grieving. This is not to imply that all has to wonderful and conflict-free in terms of the relationship one had with the deceased person. I should figure out a new way to refer to the person who has died that allows for imagining processing all loss creatively, not just the loss of someone we had a generally good relationship with. It is possible to do this, and is very valuable. Even if grief is complicated, there are ways to work it out through creative expression.
Healing Handcrafting 