Where your hands meet the world
In the decade since I started my embroidery business, much of my reading has centred on the creative process. However, some of it has also focussed on academic research about craft practice itself. There is a wealth of rigorous research about craft, its cultural significance, its place in the world, the people who practice it, and the ever-constant question about whether "craft" is "art".
A 2012 paper I read recently called, "Showing Making" by Ann-Sophie Lehmann references a 1934 text by John Dewey called "Art as Experience". Typical of a philosophical text of its time, the language is a little heavy going, but the ideas Dewey expresses had my brain fizzing with delight. He says that every work of art is not just a "product" but it gives physical form to "a process of doing or making". He describes the making process as an interaction between "inner material" and "outer material". "Inner material" refers to our mind: thoughts, ideas, memories, emotions, the chatter inside our head. "Outer material" is the physical world that we work with when making something - the literal, physical materials. The creative process then is a constant dance between these two spheres: the tension between the idea in your head and the physical materials with which you are working - "the physical process develops imagination, while imagination is conceived in terms of concrete material". In many making processes, the absolutely critical nexus between these "inner" and "outer" materials are our hands.
I can't really express just how much this idea makes me tingle. As someone who has loved to dance for my entire life, I am enthralled by the idea that my hands are literally dancing to the music in my head to give new form to my materials. It also goes right to the heart of why "The Hands Manifesto" exists at all - my absolute conviction that our hands play a crucial, pivotal role in mediating the connection between our mind and the world around us. And there's something deeply moving about the fact that almost 90 years ago, someone was expressing an idea about the connection between mind and making that resonates so strongly for me now.
And I know that makers from a wide variety of fields would love these ideas too. In fact, Dewey's concept of this dance between inner and outer materials is beautifully illustrated in contemporary media - you need go no further than Netflix to find countless examples of makers describing exactly this process. "Chefs Table: Pizza" profiles eight superb pizza chefs from around the world. Without exception, they wax lyrical about the feel of the dough, about the only way to know if the dough is any good is to feel it, with your hands.
Feeling pizza dough (Photo by Malidate Van via www.pexels.com)
"Blown Away", yet another in the seemingly endless variations of the knock-out style competitive TV show, showcases glass blowers. Their work is superb, the dance between ideas and materials intense, just by dint of the fierceness of the heat and the speed and care required when working with molten glass. My favourite part of the show is listening to the glass blowers describe their passion. One artist created a sculpture of a hand "holding the door open" as a way of paying homage to all the people who helped him develop as a glass artist. I loved this idea because I often reflect on the thought that the embroidery I am able to do now rests on the work and imagination of the countless artisans that came before me. Other competitors say "glass gives me courage", or working with glass allows me to "investigate myself", or "I'm constantly striving to be just that little bit better." I relate to all of these. Our materials are different but the sentiment of the maker remains the same.
Even more strongly expressed emotions include "Glass is a dance - it's a choreography. I almost have a hard time seeing how everyone doesn't want to do this" and "my body craves blowing glass." One of the reasons I am writing "The Hands Manifesto" at all is because I just can't imagine why everyone doesn't experience the same urge I do to make stuff. I'm prepared to acknowledge (grudgingly, haha!) that you might not love the feel of silk threaded in a needle as much as I do, but I wish everyone could have the chance to find that maker DNA that makes them feel as passionately about their materials as these pizza makers, glass blowers and I do.
Working with glass (Photo by cottonbro studio via ww.pexels.com)
My most favourite recent show in the genre is a very short offering, "The Quilters". It's way too short in fact. One friend told me that half an hour was not nearly enough - she wanted a whole series. I couldn't agree more. This simple documentary tells the story of a group of men in a maximum security prison in Missouri. Five days a week they make beautiful, personalised quilts as birthday gifts for foster children. Each man has his own personal style. One loves butterflies, another the challenge of creating kaleidoscopic patterns from hundreds of tiny squares and rectangles. They talk about how they are different men in the quilting studio compared to when they are in the rest of the prison. In this space they can be themselves, a more vulnerable side can emerge. You can see this when you watch their hands smoothing the fabric, inspecting their joins, checking the quilting, and folding the finished masterpieces for delivery. Back in the main prison they have to pull on their protective armour again, otherwise they wouldn't survive. The way their hands meet the world in the two different spaces is completely different - one with the power to heal and one where harm and defence take precedence.
In Dewey's language, the "outer materials" in the quilting studio allow these prisoners to access a different "inner world". Whilst their experience might be a very stark example of how this process can have such a profound effect on our wellbeing, it's something that is powerfully true for all of us. If your hands meet the world in a way that feels jarring or empty or unfulfilling, then that experience will directly impact your inner experience. But if your hands do work that feels energising, uplifting, satisfying, purposeful then that will make your life feel better too.
So if you have the time, get curious about where your hands love to meet the world. Do they love the feel of flour and the connection to cooking? Or are they happiest digging around in moist soil and helping plants to thrive? Or like me, do they love the feel of silk and wool, perhaps being laid in colourful, intricate, geometric patterns that soothe the mind and feed the soul.
This Week’s References
Art as Experience by John Dewey. Published by Penguin Books Ltd., 1934.
Showing Making: On Visual Documentation and Creative Practice by Ann-Sophie Lehmann. Published in Journal of Modern Craft 5, no. 1 (2012), 9-24.
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