While still maintaining my predecessor blog, the Flatland Oracles, I had comments or letters from a number of people whose work, websites, or opinions I blogged about---perhaps at some point I'll drop some names, but not now---and still I forget this. Though I definitely try to limit discussion of my private life and personal friends, blogging about the internet and issues discussed on the internet still feels curiously private to me.
A few weeks ago, when I was still doing my "Flatland Oracles" blog, I wrote a note about a young craftswoman who made a pair of sandals out of grocery bags. I saw an amusing comment by the famous Manolo about her grocery bag sandals at Manolo's "Shoeblogs" site; his comment---let's say that he didn't care much for them---amused me, so I took a look at the link he provided. The link took me to a Crafts site where the maker of the sandals was discussing how she had the idea to make them and how she'd gone about it.
I come from a place that is well-supplied with artists and objects made from macrame and....I rather like them. I thought the grocery bag sandals looked rather like macrame and was impressed by the color (a lovely pale aubergine; what store has bags in that color, I wonder?) My concern about the sandals had more to do with how they would feel if you tried to wear them. But I didn't think they were any uglier than a lot of things I see people here in ultra-casual North Florida. In fact, they were much nicer than the plastic sandals from CVS pharmacy that so many people wear.
Besides, I am always impressed by people who make things----and I was especially impressed that a young woman would be so innovative; and we may well be heading down a road that is going to require all of us to make clothing from re-purposed objects. Even so, I made [rather mild] fun of the concept of grocery bag sandals]. I pointed out that this could be the slippery slope that leads to making whole wardrobes out of re-purposed objects.
I subsequently had the honor of receiving a charming note from the maker of the sandals. Among other things, she wrote:
I think what really amazes me is that I put things like this out there
on a lark, a bit for fun, a bit to amuse friends, and maybe even a bit
for vanity. What I tend to forget is that people will actually look
at them seriously, and may even take time to break them apart,
evaluate them, and consider the implications. It's kind of crazy to
think that strangers out there are spending that much time and thought
on things that I've made. I mean, who the heck am I?
For one thing, someone who inadvertently not only contributed to the Manolo's wondrous blog, but also caused a sort of revolution in a complete stranger's way of going about her life.
The magic of the internet is that when you put something out there, there's actually the chance that someone will actually see it and that it will actually resonate with someone; sometimes with many someones. It's exciting, isn't it?----this proliferation of passing connections, of brushes with people and activities that we'd never have imagined without the internet. The internet makes it much harder for someone who uses it constructively that the world really is filled with possibility. It reminds the person of all the things she COULD be doing.
As this young woman---I'll call her "M"----wrote, you might do it for a lark, to amuse your friends, or out of vanity, but once you send it out into the world, it's out there. You never know who will make use of it or how.
M also wrote: "think I especially liked what you had
to say in the beginning, about the value of making something in a time
of need. Good advice, that."
It's true; it's very good advice, and it comes from people who are wiser than I am. In writing for my own amusement about M's grocery bag sandals, I reminded myself of something I'd allowed myself to forget these last few years: the joy and satisfaction of being a maker of things. Writing about her sandals reminded me that the best part from the standpoint of the maker is the DOING; that when you're done you have something to show for it----sandals, a picture you painted, a photograph, a cake, or whatever----is a definite bonus, but not the reason for making things.
"Make something!" my mother used to say if I complained that I was bored or depressed. And she was right because making ANYTHING engages the right brain and puts you in a completely different relationship to time and space.
Don't believe me? Check out this book---Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain (now available on DVD!)----that made me understand during one of the darker periods of my life how it is that making things can shift your whole perception of reality. This book can teach anyone to draw, but it's primary interest for me was the discussion of perception and of the disjunct between "right brain thinking" and "left brain thinking."
As I work in a very left-brained field, I have found great relief in my various periods of immersion into totally right-brain work. It's like being in a different world: you're absorbed, alert, fully in the moment, and completely relaxed and focused; and time literally flows past. When I'm making something, even if it's just coloring in the outlines of one of Dover Press's wondrous coloring books, I experience reality completely differently. It's a total immersion experience.
But making anything can take you out of your head into the flow of reality.
A character in my favorite novel by one of my favorite writers, Ursula LeGuin, talks about this exact issue in a way that really resonated with me. It helped me a lot when I first read it back in 1988, shortly after my father died; it helped me see a way of getting a way a bit from my grief and shock.
[quote begins from Always Coming Home, by Ursula K. LeGuin at 184-85 (Bantam Press, 1986)]
It was a very good thing for me to learn a craft with a true maker. It may have been the best thing I have ever done. Nothing we do is better than the work of handmind. When mind uses itself without the hands it runs the circle and may go too fast; even speech using the voice only may go too fast. The hand that shapes the mind into clay or written word slows thought to the gait of things and lets it be subject to accident and time.
[quote ends]
Yes, exactly. In college, I did needlepoint. It was unimaginative work---I just followed a printed pattern---but wonderfully absorbing. I didn't keep any of the needlepoint work I did; I gave it all away; what I liked about it was doing it. [ Though it is very nice to have something in the end to show for your time, which is another good thing about making things.]
It's been several years since I went through a phrase of making elaborate sculpted collages for friends and family or traced pictures from Beardsley onto glass and painted them. None of my work was anything but amateur, but it was incredibly satisfying; when I was done, I gave away everything I made [and I imagine most of the recipients kept these items for a decent interval before tossing them or selling them at yard sales]. The pleasure was in doing the work.
Thinking about M's sandals reminded me that it had been a long time since I'd made anything. But then I moved to this new site where I could use a banner if I wanted to and I really wanted to make a banner for my site. I'd had the software sitting around forever, but it seemed complicated and I'd had other priorities. When I did get around to making my banners,the process was so enjoyable I just couldn't bear the thought of quitting. Hence my clipart blog.
I sent some samples to a friend. He was complimentary, but baffled; "What are they for?" he wrote back. Why, nothing; the real reason for making these images with Paintbox Pro is just to make them. It's so relaxing and absorbing. I doubt I'd have taken the time if I hadn't been reminded just how good it is for me to give my right brain a chance to play with lines and colors.
So this note really illustrates the true magic of the internet: how one person's passing note may lead without her ever realizing to substantial changes in someone else's way of thinking or being. I'm really grateful to M for reminding me by example how much I like to make things and why.
*If you can't draw or paint or do needlework, and you don't have imaging software or sufficient patience at the moment to study Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, seriously: CHECK OUT DOVER PRESS [HERE]. I've had Dover coloring books featuring Japanese prints (my all-time favorite), William Morris prints, Celtic patterns, and medieaval woodcuts, not to mention a book featuring portraits of famous women (my favorite was Bessie Smith).
If you're going through a tough time, get yourself some good quality colored pencils or pastel crayons or water color paints---whatever would be easiest----and get off the mental merry-go-round through the work of "handmind." There's a reason why children love to color things and why smart parents keep plenty of coloring books on hand.
You have nothing to lose but a few hours of pointless turmoil.
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