In the Spirit of Rebellion
This morning, I went ahead and added a glug of Breckenridge Spiced Whiskey to my Black Rifle coffee because, screw it - why not? In less than a week my glorious feral housewife summer comes to an end and I’ll be rejoining the civilized workforce sans booze in my brew. As the clock winds down on absolute no-bra freedom, I’ve been trying to get prepared for a complete re-launch of my daily routines. I’m in tidy-up-and-organize mode because I know the transition will be a jolt - it’s all about laundry, deep cleaning, cat boxes, and organizing stuff to go to goodwill and whatnot today. That is, until my latest guilty acquisition arrives and then housework possibly be damned.
We all have that friend that is an enabler. I, unfortunately (fortunately?) have several. One of them is nuts about spinning wheels and other fiber equipment and much like me, has a deep love for all the tools of the trade. While I largely have the fleet of spinning wheels that I have always wanted, there’s been a few things I’ve continued to be on the lookout for. One of those is a Swiss Lateral Wheel (a nod to my Swiss heritage - they’re unfortunately rarer than hen’s teeth, so it will be a while.) The other has been a production-level, modern-built Lendrum double treadle. It’s a wheel that is preferred by a lot of production spinners and teachers and at a taller height than my lovely Louet Victoria, it’s a perfect stay-at-home-and-tend-to-business piece of equipment. Laurette happened to run across one in a Facebook group and tipped me off about it. At half the price of retail with a boatload of accessories, it was an excellent deal and I bought it. Why? (Rational question - I have a lot of spinning wheels!) Honestly, this is where my life is at right now.
One of the many things that crystalized for me this summer is how much textile art has been a major part of my life for the last 20 years. There is something about creating in this way that speaks to me like no other thing ever has. Sure, I can draw and paint, I love design and my first love that I pursued with abandon was photography (that’s not going away - I’m just not doing it professionally any more). I’ve had a lot of fun with scrimshaw (and still do), but fiber craft is it’s own thing. Perhaps it’s a deep connection to how our entire civilization developed over thousands of years to clothe and protect our hairless monkey selves. It could be my love for old tools and the history surrounding them. There is an element of my need to withdraw from the exploitative, environmentally damaging and wasteful manufacture of cheap clothing and really embrace slow, sustainable, quality fabrics that last for generations. On a heart level, I know that making something for someone is literally encasing them in love - that I’ve held them sacred in my mind while I’ve created something with my hands. You could call it a prayer, or an act of magic, but it’s powerful stuff. As for the rest of my love of fiber craft, it’s definitely pointed in the direction of my love for animals and the joy I get from raising sheep and fiber goats (maybe some yak, someday) and how under appreciated they are for their ability to resurrect damaged landscapes, trap carbon, and provide fiber, milk and meat to their shepherd. Truly, there is something humbling and connective about owning a fiber flock that anchors me to a state of peace, of laughter (because you need a sense of humor to do this) and of deep love.
Fiber craft is contrary. I am contrary. In a fast paced, money-dominated society, it is unfathomable to many that I spend hours making a pair of hand-knit socks when you can buy 3 pairs for $10 at Wal-Mart. I used to be annoyed by the shock on people’s faces because it felt like it was belittling my time, but now I relish it as an opportunity to ask - “Would you wear a pair of handmade socks? What would it mean to you, if you did?” While I think it’s a bit unreasonable to devolve to a place where everything is handmade, I think that being cognizant of where our clothing comes from, it’s human and environmental costs, and in the spirit of Marie Kondo - does it “Spark Joy?” are reasonable things to ask.
Fiber craft can be an act of political rebellion. A friend reminded me of the Daughter’s of Liberty in her recent blog post and last night found me on election day, sitting in a local brewery with my aforementioned enabling friend, sharing our lives over beer and busily working at our spinning wheels. The correlation wasn’t lost on me and while it’s the tiniest act of rebellion (truly, the public is baffled every time our group appears with spinning wheels), it was completely fitting.
Today, I await the arrival of another wheel, another set of sheep coats, the completion of another blog post and to make more progress on my website - while making preparations to leave my little sanctuary to return to the working world (ostensibly to support said purchase of spinning wheels, sheep and sanctuary), I am considering all the implications of what I’ve created and what it means to me. I have poured myself a second cup of coffee, added another shot of whiskey and we’ll see just how much housework gets done.
Until next time, be well, stay warm and keep being your unapologetic, authentic self.