handstories

Imagine having to prove you're a Person

    This week was hot for here (which makes me grumpy), I decided to rearrange/clean out the studio (it got so much worse in the process), and I sliced my pointer finger (right where the needle sits while stitching).  It's cooled off a bit, the room is almost better, and I can hold a needle again...so some progress.  

    A new block by a young artist created with @sjsacademy arrived.  Her message honors Chief Standing Bear, a Ponca chief and Native American civil rights leader. In 1879, he was the first to successfully argue in the U.S. District Court that Native Americans are "persons within the meaning of the law."

    The blocks arrive with the pieces tacked down with craft glue.  My job is to secure the fabrics, embellish and add context to the piece.  The base cloth felt too white and thin to work on, so I added a layer of muslin around the center design.  It was cloth that had gone into a fading indigo vat so it has just a touch of blue here and there.  It makes me think of the sky.

    The artist wished for Sitting Bull's quote, "I myself would rather die an Indian than live a white man."  I'm wishing for Liz's skill with stitching words.

in Remembrance and Hope

In remembrance of Michael Brown (1996-2014)

Social Justice Sewing Academy Remembrance Project 

    Next it will travel to those who will quilt and stitch it and other blocks into "activist art banners for local and national activist organizations who have requested creative statements to be publicly displayed that represent solidarity as well as remembrance. This partnership will create a visual statement to memorialize those who have been unjustly murdered by police, racial vigilantism, or as a result of their gender, sexual orientation and other forms of identity politics. These artivism blocks will honor the lives of individuals through symbolism and portrait. Their names and identities will be displayed during community activism events reminding the world that their lives mattered."

    (Please visit the link above to learn more about the project and other empowering work of this wonderful organization.  This line in their description strikes my heart... "When you take a step back and look at the sheer size of the exhibit you realize the tragic fact that you will run out of volunteers long before you run out of names.")

    That little silver starred blue patch in the middle right is a scrap of mama love.  A bit of the cloth that was used in both Blue's and Moon's baby quilts.  A gift from K. when I was pregnant with Blue, and finally feeling safe enough to hope he would really come.  Now, ages 22 and almost 18, my boys are here, filled with ideas and hopes, with their whole lives ahead of them.

    Michael should be a 24 year old young man now, he should be making the music he loved, working at a job that his college education would have led to, hanging out with friends, living and filling his life with ideas and hopes.  

    This time of stitching this block and thinking on what I've been able to learn about Michael have been a journey.  Reading the stories about Michael's killing, the two sides of it- He had problems/he had promise, he jaywalked and shoplifted/he was joking around, he charged the officer/he had his hands up and called "Don't shoot!"....  It's easy to get lost in the "He said/He saids" of it all.  But they don't matter.

     What is true is that he was an unarmed human being who is now dead.

     There is so much to muddle through in anti-racist work, inside and out.  As a mama, a white woman and a human being, I worried about getting this square Right.   Not for me, but in honor of Michael and those who loved him.  I know that it isn't possible, there is no "Right" in any of this. I'm learning that it's important to being willing to be uncomfortable, unsure, wrong, and to keep trying, to do better for Michael, for those who loved and lost him, and for so many others... for all of us.

Wings for Michael

    Thank you, everyone for all of the kind supportive comments on yesterday's post.  I love how we hold hands in this circle.

    Last night cloud and wing shapes were basted on.

    This morning I woke up early and wanted to get right to stitching- to see if the ideas might work, and with a little anxiety about getting this done by the July 8th deadline.

    Feathers were basted all day long, with thoughts of Michael.  Thinking of the cloud angel he saw.  Imagining him in wings, rising to a better world where he might be free.

    Moon looked at Michael's photos, listened to his story, and is taking an interest in this piece.  That does my heart good.  He'll turn eighteen next month, the same age Michael was when he was killed.  This project breaks and fills my heart.

Michael Orlandus Darrion Brown (1996-2014)

    A few weeks ago, I volunteered do more stitching for the Social Justice Sewing Academy, this time for their remembrance projects for victims of violence and their families.  When I signed up, the projects were just being formed, I really thought I was signing up to work on a lap quilt of a victim's clothing for their family.  Something cozy and comforting, but said I was willing to do whatever I could within my skill set.

    On Saturday a request to make a square in honor of Michael Brown came.  Michael was shot to death by a police officer in Ferguson, MO, he was just eighteen.  Upon reading the email, I was overcome, overwhelmed, and sure that I couldn't do it.  Also, on instagram, I had seen the first finished square for this project.  It was beautiful and expertly created- a photograph in cloth.  I really couldn't do that.  I replied that while I felt humble and grateful for the opportunity to participate, I was not sure I had the skills required to do Michael or the project justice.

    While waiting for the reply (which was lovely and encouraging), I began reading everything I could find about Michael.  At first, I was done in by stories of the shooting, but then found this NYT article and a few others that shared more about Michael's story. 

    What I kept coming back to is that he was just a kid.  Born two years before Blue.  Like Blue, Michael was born in May, was 6' 4", loved video games, music and hanging out with friends.  He had just graduated from high school, with plans to start college in a few weeks. 

    Earlier that summer he had called his dad and stepmom in the middle of the night to describe the after-storm clouds that he was looking at.  He said that he saw an angel in them, being chased by Satan and running into the face of God.  "Now I believe." he told them.

    So, with a mama's heart, I've started a square for Michael, and will try to hold all of this.

    Michael Brown was just a kid, who had hopes and an openness to wonders in this world.

 

balancing things

    Yesterday brought news for us, not unexpected, but still, it has tilted things.

    At the same moment a beautiful email came, from a soul who does such good in the world, creating space for healing.  It was a reminder that in the big view of things we are ok.

    The rest of the day was spent stitching, finishing up pieces, thinking about the many possibilities for how things might go. 

    There was a new start, too, and a recognition of that moment at the very beginning of a cloth, when I don't know what will happen, and of how much I love the wide openness of that.

      Gratefulness for Jude's moons, star and scraps, Deb's cloths and threads, Tina's cloth, and so much for the centering circle of this community, oxo.

small somethings

"A Sky of Love"

"Heaven's Heart"

    These two pieces were stitched through the storms of this week- society's and personal.  I have almost no memory of making them, which probably speaks to stress levels.  Posts were made here and on Instagram.  Posts were deleted.  I'm second guessing every move and thought.  In the big picture, things are ok here.  In the big picture, things are not ok for so many.

    I keep thinking of the students at the last school I worked at.  Thinking about how many of those young children were living with injustice in many forms.  How justifiably angry and/or hopeless many of them were.  I wonder where and how they are now?

    These two sky stories will go into the shop tomorrow.  100% of the sales of these cloths will be donated to the Social Justice Sewing Academy ( @sjsacademy ).  There are many ways to support this organization- volunteer to stitch a remembrance quilt for families who have lost a loved one to violence, embroider a young person's square, donate, etc.  Please take a look at all of the good important work they are doing in "connecting young people with the opportunity to engage with issues of social justice through sewing."

heaven's heart

    Yesterday morning I awoke to the rain.  Everyone was still sleeping.  Flinging open the studio window, I stood there listening, smelling and hearing the low rumble on its way.  (The photo is a screen shot from the video I took when the thunder and lightning were coming one after another.) 

    I love a good storm, but all I could think of was that the Sky/God/Universe was grieving, that there is so much sorrow and angst right now that the heart of the heavens is breaking.

    It rained all day... and then an alarm went off on all three of our phones...

    We turned the news on...

    And this is just Seattle.  

    

    It's almost midnight.  It's still raining.

tangled up in freedom

    This is the square that came from the Social Justice Sewing Academy @sjsacademy.  It is an organization dedicated to empowering young artists.

    "A youth education program that bridges artistic expression with activism to advocate for social justice. Through a series of hands-on workshops in schools, prisons & community centers across the country, SJSA empowers youth to use textile art as a vehicle for personal transformation & community cohesion and become agents of social change. Many of our young artists make art that explores issues such as gender discrimination, mass incarceration, gun violence & gentrification. The powerful imagery they create in cloth tells their stories, & these quilt blocks are then sent to volunteers around the world to embellish & embroider before being sewn together into quilts to be displayed in museums, galleries and quilt shows across the country. This visual dialogue bridges differences in race, age & socioeconomics & sparks conversations & action in households across the country."

    Click HERE to listen to an interview with the rockstar young woman who founded the organization and one of the students.

    I had thought this would be an easy thing to do, the kind of thing I've done with hundreds of students over the years.

    The first step was to secure the edges of the pieces, easy enough.  But then, what?  This square came with no instructions from the artist.  Not knowing them, or their intentions has thrown me.  At school, I was able to have conversations with the students- hear their thoughts, have them pick colors, etc. 

    Wanting to respect and keep with the artist's vision, I emailed the organization, and was told to feel free to do whatever I thought.  My thoughts were panicked.

    "What if I get it wrong?  What if they don't recognize their own creation?  What if I'm somehow silencing or not seeing their truth?"

        I think too much, I know...holding my breath and hope, and continuing on...

an enchanted evening

    The Cotton Building in Port Townsend was a beautiful space, and the rain stopped in time.

    So pleased to have had my little squares next to the wonderful work of Tininha and Tracy.

        Tininha's weavings are as joyful and passionate as she is.

    Tracy's patchwork brings to mind the wonder and fascinating stories of her life.

    I loved how children were drawn to the textiles.

    My favorite moment came near the end, looking around the room...  Seeing K. (who is such a good guy, and who was my rock around this whole thing- supporting, encouraging, enduring a few meltdowns, and knowing how to do the credit card thingamajig!).  Across the way were my three oldest and dearest friends laughing and talking together (their support and help, before, during and after, went above and beyond, and held me together).  There had been reconnecting with people, meetings for the first time in real life, friends, and friends of friends, and such kind and generous thoughts shared... I realized how rich my life really is, that all of these folks are a part of my world, including those of you who come here and have given such heartfelt cheering-on and support, that I'm able to spend time doing something I truly love...  The night was, and my life is, so full of goodness.

    It really was a lovely evening.   

This...

        Read the whole article here:  Knitting Has Always Been Political

    In other knitting news...  This swatch of "Persian Lace" is my contribution to the Barbara Walker Knitting Project.  It will be part of an exhibition and artist book that will pay homage to Barbara Walker ("who’s work in the knitting field has inspired - and continues to inspire! - generations of knitters.").  This will all be a part of Blue: The Tatter Textile Library in Brooklyn, NY.  I hope to visit this bluetiful gathering of textiles and wonders someday...

    When they sent the pattern I was to knit, I thought, "Easy-peasy, I can follow 16 rows of a pattern...".  I copied the pattern off of the computer, and sat down one evening with a glass of wine and a movie, the swatch was started, and started again.  "Ok, no movie."  And again.  "Ok, maybe another try tomorrow without the wine."  The next day without distractions didn't go any better.  "Maybe it's the yarn?"  Switched yarns.  Nope.  Again, and again, I even recopied the pattern in larger, easier to read, writing, but still something was wrong in row 15 every time, the count was off.  I even tried it in orange so that I could really see the stitches.  Flop.  Ordered Barbara's book from the library, to work from the pattern directly.  Flub.  Sixth, seventh, eighth try... Fail, fail, fail.  

    "Sorry, Barbara, the pattern is wrong!"  Knowing what it should look like, I was determined to rewrite the pattern.  Row 14 was worked carefully stitch by stitch... and then, finally, the light bulb came on.  I had written it out (twice) and read it wrong every time.

    "K-1b" not "K-1fb"  The ninth time was the charm.  

    Happy and relieved, I went to find K. so as to explain it all to someone (even if he didn't care, and it's a foreign language to him).

    So sorry, Barbara, I should never have doubted you!