My post is late this month because I’ve hurt my back something wicked and it’s really had me down for the count. Life has been very full and I’ve not been terribly good at following the advice that is the title of this post. This month’s Summoning Creativity effort is offered to me as much as it is to you.
Until recent history, the slow growth reflected in the natural world and in the required crafts of daily living was all there was. Our bodies and minds evolved thanks to, and in support of, slow growth. Today, we live in a culture that not only makes it possible to force growth but often expects it. While we don’t have to eschew technological or human progress, we must weave the appreciation for slow growth back into the tapestry of our lives if we hope to move toward a more harmonious relationship with the natural environment that surrounds us.
This writing made me nod and exclaim out loud, “yes, thank you for this reminder”. I read it a few days before I hurt my back, and I find myself going back to it now when just sitting to weave or stitch or even read is somewhat challenging because there is no comfortable position I can be in for very long.
Applying these words to my own healing is a learning edge to me. Over the last several years, I’ve had several injuries and physical realities that have forced me to reckon with the impatience I have with my own body. While I relish slow growth, slow healing is a whole other matter. I’ve got a lot of work to do there.
And once again, I have the opportunity to reckon with this issue of mine.
How will I do it?
My current thinking is to relate to the pain I’m feeling in a visual way. I want to look at images of the muscles, nerves and vertebrae that are communicating with me. Maybe I’ll draw them, or stitch them, or at some point, weave them. I will add color and texture to impatience, to my tendency to force healing on myself (which never works), and I will try to relate to the parts of me that have some slow growing to do, namely patience with and compassion for… me.
So, here we go.
Do you have health issues that impact your making? How do you reckon with these themes?
We are ten days into this month and I wanted to share an update on how I’ve been doing with the Summoning Creativity intention, which is to engage with your creativity every day. First, I’ll just give you the run down.
August 1: I feel like this was a bit of a cheat because I had the opportunity to visit the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. I specifically went to see the Woven Histories exhibit, which was incredible, inspiring, tear-inducing… but we also checked out a lot of the permanent collection which knocked my psyche into a great space. I was also reminded of how much I love the work of Marc Chagall. Once back at home at my family’s house, I did a quick sketch inspired by a piece from the Woven Histories exhibit entitled Composition 9 by Manolo Millares.
August 2: while on a walk in the town I spent a lot of my childhood, I gathered some leaves that caught my attention. I either was drawn to their shape or to their colors. Once back at the house, I looked them up to see what tree they belonged to and took some notes. Sassafras, Pin Oak, Big Tooth Aspen, and some kind of Hickory were of special focus.
Captured with VisionCamera by mrousavyCaptured with VisionCamera by mrousavyCaptured with VisionCamera by mrousavyCaptured with VisionCamera by mrousavyCaptured with VisionCamera by mrousavy
August 3: On this day, my daughter and I drove from my family’s home in NJ where we were visiting to Asbury Park which is on the Jersey Shore. Driving in NJ elicits a unique kind of stress in my mind and body, so just making that trip felt like a feat that involved mental creativity. BUT, once there, we made it to the beach for a bit, swam, and I let myself succumb to the relaxing and beautiful sounds of the ocean waves. Heavenly magic. I watched people and witnessed a most beautiful scene: two women helped an elderly woman down to the water. The elderly woman was wearing a long blue dress. Her hair was pinned up. She was beautiful. The two women on either side of her were holding each of her hands gently; they were in bathing suits. They stepped into the water, feet getting wet. Then a little deeper… ankles and calves… no worries about the woman’s dress getting wet. They moved slowly, patiently, lovingly. Deeper still and they were up to about mid-calf. They were getting splashed by waves, smiling. Her dress was completely wet. Other family members approached and stayed. It seemed like there were at least three, maybe four generations of family there. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. The picture here is cropped in such a way to respect the privacy of those in the scene.
August 4: On a walk with my daughter to the place we went for dinner, we got turned around and ended up on a little footbridge. I took a picture of the reflection, imagining a tapestry project idea and made sure to document it in my book.
August 5: on our last night in Asbury Park, we took in the scenes around us and marveled at the art, edginess, creativity and spooky feeling that abounds there. I didn’t do any journaling- taking in the ocean and the sights was satisfying enough.
August 6: I drove home to Vermont from the Jersey Shore, about a 6.5 hour drive, and stayed mostly calm through 4 hours of heavy traffic. That’s all I could muster.
August 7: I had to, rather quickly, make a fun project for an upcoming class at the Shelburne Craft School. My goal? Show how random we can be when weaving on a frame loom, and how we can just follow an urge or a whim to create something unique.
August 8: I sat on my porch in the evening and added a little bit to my little tapestry project. There’s no plan to this. I just want to make waves an swirls and swales, capturing my feelings about this summer. I didn’t have too much time to work on it but I got one more wave in (on the left) and the yellows.
August 9: Yesterday began with me trying to sort how I was going to spend my hours… I need to repair a sculpture at my studio and am longing to be there. But home was calling to me- I wanted to tend to it and be around my family. What began as some mild chores turned into cleaning windows, mopping floors, putting things away… I listened to music (I’ve been on a Rolling Stones kick lately) and took care of my space with a lot of time to be with my people. I came across started and then left, or half-finished art projects and did the next step on one of them: a while ago I took some loosely knitted linen material from a former project and molded it around a bowl with some hardening fixative. It’s been sitting and curing for months now. Yesterday I spray painted it gold. Next step will be to paint it with nuln oil. Can’t wait to see what it looks like when it’s finished.
August 10: Early this morning, I sat on my porch, listened to all the critters making their late summer sounds. I worked some more on my little tapestry, until it became too hot in the direct sun.
In these first ten days of this month’s Summoning Creativity intention, I’ve given myself a lot of space to be where I am and fully engage with whatever is happening. Sometimes I’ve actually gotten to make something or work on a project. Most times, I’ve been more of an observer/noticer of interesting, beautiful, lovely things or moments. One day, so much focus and energy went into driving safely that there was no energy left over to do anything else. What has been consistently true is that I have not had hours to spend on my own art. Life is busy with family, work, chores, and other engagements. Yet, I feel like I’ve been really tuned in to the part of myself that is creative and wants to create. I’m proving to myself that not having a lot of time in the studio doesn’t mean I can’t live in and experience my life artistically and creatively. Having this intention for the month is reminding me to tune in and do something… anything… to keep the flow going so when I do have more time, I can jump in with abandon.
Tell me about your creative practice! I love hearing how people approach their own artistry.
I’m writing to you from my porch. It’s just a few days before August 1st. I’ve been thinking about the next Summoning Creativity post for a while now. As I listen to the myriad birds engaged in their morning meetings and wonder at the frogs knocking to one another from here to there*, I can’t help but come back to the bewilderment I feel at being on Earth, doing this thing called life. Being alive. Being here as part of, and witness to, all of it. All of what is happening, all of what has been, all of what will come… here we are. Part of the story.
August in Vermont has a certain texture and moodiness to it. The sun’s height in the sky has gone through some noticeable shifts and, even with the hot days of late, there have already been moments that feel and smell like early fall. The rhythms we live in are obvious. Yet, they can pass by with little notice if attention is not paid to the shifts.
Lest this seem like a naval-examining treatise on the passing of time, let me get to it and make the link between being human in nature and creativity.
The Link
When We Notice, We Are Engaged
When We Are Engaged, We Can Create
The Prompt for August
Engage Every Day
Yes. Every day.
Don’t go yet! This isn’t bootcamp or a fad diet. It’s an invitation to harness the energy of August and give yourself the gift of engagement with your life, your surroundings, and your beautiful creativity that is boundless and waiting for attention. Here’s what I have in mind.
~ Every single day, take a moment to be fully present in your body and mind. Let your senses guide you. Do you hear something that has you wondering? Do you see something that catches your attention? Feel a sensation on your skin? Taste something that has your tongue tingling? Smell something that makes you tilt your head?
~ Let your attention rest on something that is: neutral, pleasant, interesting, or beautiful. Yes, I’m being directive about that. ** Like students in school, we learn best when we feel and are safe. Let us give our nervous systems the gift of a moment of, at minimum, calm neutrality.
~ Observe what you have chosen to rest your attention on. At least for five minutes, study what has gotten your attention.
~ Then, following this engagement, document it. You can do this in several ways. On days that are busy and there’s just no time that feels available for more, simply write what you saw.
It can be as short and sweet as: “By my front step, I saw a web that formed a circle on the grass. It looked like a tissue from a distance. But up close, it was webby and dewy.”
Or, you can take a picture of it and print it out, if possible.
Or, you draw it, paint it, sketch it.
Or, you can research it. Using this example, I might wonder, “what makes those webs?” and then study that creature.
Or, you can make something inspired by what you’ve seen.
~ And… repeat. Every day for one month.
Why every day?!
Because when we do something every day, over time, we change our habits. And yes, it is a habit to plow through a day without noticing anything. And, it’s a habit to live every day and notice many things.
It’s a practice to let those things you observe work on you and interact with the part of you that is curious, has wonder, and wants to play.
Things that might be useful to have around:
An unlined notebook where you can keep sketches/drawings/writings/clippings….
A camera. Many folks have smartphones that have one million photos on them that they forget about. I recommend for this endeavor to print out pictures and put them in your book. If you have a printer that can do this, great. I don’t have reliable printer and ink costs a forture, so I often will order prints through the Walgreens app because I can order the prints I want and pick them up quickly. If you are only ordering one print here and there, it’s remains inexpensive. Many pharmacies and grocers have photo printing these days, and there’s no minimum number of prints necessary. My daughter also has this little polaroid camera that is pretty fun. I haven’t used it for things like this, but I think it would work great!
Colored pencils or pens
Charcoal drawing pencils
Portable paints
If you have a specific medium you like to work with, have that around and easily accessible in case you have more dedicated time to play and create.
Things to consider that might help support this practice:
Setting an alarm each day (with a pleasant sound, please! – no startle responses necessary for this effort!) to remind you to take a moment to engage.
Keeping your art book around so you are visually reminded to engage.
Inviting people you live with or talk to regularly to do this, too! Sometimes it’s fun to have a partner in daily efforts.
Beware of the following:
If you forget a day or days, don’t throw in the towel! Just get back to it. My relationship with my journal changed drastically when I decided not to make it a shame and self-hate punisher if I miss a few days or months. Shit happens, man. It’s no big thing.
Judgement of what you are focusing on or on what you do with it. Reminder: this is not a project to get anything specific done. It’s an invitation to engage with what resonates with you while taking it a step further and interacting with what you noticed.
What do you think? Are you game? I am! I vibe deeply with getting practical and organized in my efforts. I also don’t want to miss any of August, no matter where I am or what I’m doing. If any part of this feels too rigid for you and your nature, adjust as needed and make it work for you. Most important is to commit.
As always, I love to hear from you whether through the comments or directly, so please let me know if you take this on! I plan on sharing my thoughts about the whole thing as we make our way through the month. We’ll see what engaging every day inspires!
Until next time,
Bradie
ps- this post came a little early so you can start on August 1 if you’re so inspired!
* I think I’m hearing mink frogs but it seems like where I am is not considered part of their Vermont territory. Not sure, but a deeper dive into frog lore is in my future.
** To be clear, I am not saying the requirement is to ignore all that is happening in the world and to just “be positive, man”. What I am saying is that we need to give our nervous systems a chance to balance out, reboot, and access a sense of safety if we are actually living in a safe circumstance. With the issues we are facing, we need to do what we can to nurture ourselves so we can stay strong and grounded.
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.
unfinished co-created piece by my mom and me
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.
In my space circling around materials and ideas I found my great-grandparents Not all but some, And then it started. Do you like this color? Did you have this flower in your garden That was in the back of your little house Where you made my brother and me The most delicious hamburgers In a frying pan, with butter and salt? I remember you and your dear love. Mom told me you held hands when you slept at night. And you, great-grandmother I never met, Whose teacups I have but am not graceful enough to use. Maybe you know I’d slug the coffee that could fit in that dainty piece of porcelain in one gulp, Apologies. I feel loved by you and can feel you through the veil. I’m glad we got to play.
Klara and Friedrich Behind a VeilVirginia Behind a Veil
A friend of mine mentioned the other day that I hadn’t written here in a bit. She’s known me long enough to recognize a pattern of mine which is that I do a pretty full retreat from online things when there’s something I’m sorting out. I got to talk about the things that I’ve been chewing on, and she listened. She also said she missed seeing what I’m up to when it comes to making things. This was a beautiful nudge. Very well-rounded.
Grief, as you likely already know, takes its toll on people. As someone who’s written a lot about grief, a whole book in fact, you’d think maybe I’d know some tricks on how to navigate the experience with greater ease. But I’m here to tell you, there are no easy ways through the process. In all my writing, talking, supporting, and expressing, never once do I suggest there is a “get-through-grief-the-easy-way” option. It is simply something we must go through, feel, adapt to, and be chiseled by. Ultimately, we are charged with getting to know ourselves and others in our new form, as someone changed by what we’ve experienced.
I’ve noticed about myself that when I’m swimming in the grief waters, I need to take some steps back from those things that put me out there into the world. Certain aspects of grief make me feel like I’m a flipped over turtle, and the last thing I need in those circumstances is to feel more vulnerable during those times.
As we approach the year anniversary of when my dad died, we are also making our way through cold winter here in Vermont. In a few days, it will be February 1, Imbolc, which marks the halfway point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. This is when, in the Northern Hemisphere, the light starts to shift and come back. Many are thinking about the seeds they’re going to start indoors in preparation for the spring plantings. The goddess Brigid is honored in her many forms. We are invited to clean our houses, set our intentions, and think about what we want to bring into fruition in the coming growing cycles.
sun snow…
I will be honoring both of these events. I feel ready for the light to come back after relishing resting in the dark.
Creative life has been full all these months. I’ve been teaching at the Shelburne Craft School, a place that has truly become a home away from home. I also have spent time with folks in my studio, supporting their weaving journey. I’m taking a tapestry weaving class with Elizabeth Buckley, all about weaving water. I am learning so much!
my first attempt to weave reflections in water… not easy, my friends. I have a ways to go, but I’m loving the class.
I have a lot of little projects going on as well, including a new daily weaving practice that has absolutely no plan, so we’ll see how it goes.
Oh, and I made some block prints…
I’m creating things for a new class I’ll be offering called Wild Weaving, where we get to blast out our creativity and impulses into the embrace of a waiting warp.
And, I’m developing an online class as part of our Weaving Your Story programming through the craft school. This is a curriculum I’ve been developing for a couple of years and has become a very important part of my life.
All amazing work to get to be doing!
I still need to finish weaving some towels so I can get started on a new installation idea that won’t let go of my imagination. That is a project I’ll be planting seeds for soon, in hopes that it will be born over the summer months. You heard it here first! It’s got ties to this piece that was in a show in South Burlington last year.
Creative energy builds when we learn how to rest in the ways we need.
That’s it for now. Thank you, dear friend, for asking for an update.
Balance means many things to people. I’ve found that at any given time in my life, my scales are always tipped in one direction or the other, but that sought-after feeling of just being still in equilibrium is fleeting. Especially when I’m tired, struggling, weary, afraid, or grieving.
Lately, my balance has been way off. A lot of push with not enough rest, quiet, or solitude. I know this pattern well in my life and it never fails that I get sick when I’ve not adjusted the scales with enough care.
I love the invitation of this day. In the northern hemisphere, we get to think about what we have sown in our lives that we can harvest and make use of, and what should be thrown into the compost bin. What can we put to bed as we head into the time of increasing dark?
Can we let ourselves rest?
Can we let go of things that don’t serve us?
Can we let go of things we wish we had or could do but with only so much time in a day, we must come to the aching realization that some things have to remain undone, unmade, unwritten? That hurts.
And in the southern hemisphere, as you head into increasing light, what will you sow? How will you prepare yourself for what you are hoping to bring into being?
In this nature-made time of reflection, what will you be tending to?
(This is reposted from The Long Grief Journey, a website dedicated to the book I wrote with Pamela Blair. I wanted to share it here because of how precious I feel the equinox is.)
Sheesh, it’s been a while. A raucous cold, a busy schedule, a lost cat, and maybe a few too many projects really got me off my writing groove. But, I went for a run yesterday to try to get my blood moving again, and today I’m back to writing here and on another project. Feels good.
I’ve taken to rising early again, well before anyone else in the house is stirring. It’s so much easier to do when it stays dark longer into the morning. I love those quiet moments. And truly, coffee tastes the very best at a little past 5am.
There are simply not enough hours in the day to do it all. So, making decisions and abiding by priorities is where it’s at.
I’m going through the process of making eight projects Susan developed, with her support, guidance and wisdom along the way. Two and a half projects in and I’m already profoundly moved. I’ll write about the whole process when I’m done. For now, all that I am learning and gathering for myself is precious and intimate. When I’m through, I’ll be able to work with others in this way, which is a dream come true.
I’m spinning wool almost every night after my kids go to bed in order to have a sweet selection to sell at a craft fair in November.
I’m tending to a sad and worried heart, of my own and my children, due to our missing cat. He’s been gone for almost a week but was sighted this morning. With the weather changing, it’s hard not to feel frantic.
I’m working on another weaving project and struggling with warp tension due to shoddy wrapping on the beam. Frustrating!
And tending to family, home, career, body, mind, spirit in these crazy heartbreaking times…
The air was so warm and soft today. The sounds of late summer drifted through windows and around me as I meandered my way through a day filled with puttering, putting away and listening to children play, laugh and negotiate. Not much got done in the way of handwork other than knitting a few more rows onto my sweater. Slow and steady wins the race, I hope?
I looked outside as I folded laundry and saw this meeting of mushrooms. How had I not seen them before? Or did they just appear suddenly, a faerie ring?
Later, my daughter and her friends showed me this epic spider!
Soon, she had a bee in her web. Gruesome and awe inspiring. Deep respect to Shelob’s kin.
At the start of the weekend a friend had sharp eyes on a mid-afternoon walk. Purple fungus and slithering corn snake offered their colors as inspiration.
All of these moments and more make for a sweet entry into busy work and school week.
Healing Handcrafting 