Just an update…Sabbatical Weeks 1 and 2

I didn’t spend much time playing with fabric last week because most of the days after I posted last were taken up with the other focus of my sabbatical: being with people. (Many people take sabbatical as a time to be alone. Since I work from home, I spend an awful lot of time alone which, as an introvert, is a very comfortable space for me; but in the name of sabbatical being a time to do something different from the norm…well, for me, that means actually breathing the same air as other people.)

Wednesday I had the opportunity to celebrate Susan B. Anthony’s birthday by attending a luncheon fundraiser for the Susan B. Anthony House here in Rochester. I’ve always been very proud of the fact that she lived here and our area was such a key place for women’s rights…but, sadly, I’ve never actually been to her house. Now I have another sabbatical goal. In any case, it was a great program and reminded me again of how far we’ve come, but how far we still have to go before women the world over have rights and voices.

Shortly after the luncheon concluded, I was meeting with our a-borning Women’s Learning Club. This was our first session, getting input as to what the women really wanted to do together. We had two women with us to start, but they listed several women they would work to bring with them next time. Sometimes it takes awhile to get the ball rolling. Based on their input, we’re going to do some cooking classes, some sewing, and other life-skill training. Everything will have English acquisition integrated in the classes. Meanwhile, they’ll be teaching me all the same from their own traditions and cultures. I’m looking forward to some real cultural exchange moments in the weeks to come!

On Thursday, I spent several hours at the Somalian Community Center. They have been given some wonderful space in a neighborhood community center and are working on collecting donated office equipment and supplies and finding volunteers. This is a very new program, and it’s really fun to watch it get rolling. There were about 20 or so in the class–mostly women, with a handful of men; some were seniors, but I’d say the majority of the class were in their 30s-50s; most likely mothers coming to the center while their kids are in school. There is a wide range of skills in the class, from folks who are just learning to write to those who help as interpreters. They’re trying to work into a pattern in which everyone works together on whatever the topic is for the day, and then they break into small groups based on skill level and some more advanced students and volunteers help others. I was expecting to mostly observe that first session, but was immediately invited to start teaching; and then the two women who were going to act as my interpreters both got pulled into a meeting. So we really jumped in with both feet, those students and I. I don’t know how much was accomplished but at least we had fun! Fortunately there were a couple of women in the class who, while not entirely comfortable interpreting, were able to help us all understand one another. I also asked them to teach me about Somalia and Somalian cultures, so for this week, they taught me how to say hello and goodbye. It’s a start!

I went from the Somali center to Mary’s Place, a refugee outreach center in another part of town, to spend time with a young man in high school. Our first session together was mostly trying to get a sense of what we’d need to do in the future, so it was fairly short. But at least we know one another’s names now and hopefully can dive in tomorrow, when we meet again. It was good to walk into Mary’s Place and immediately see so many people I’ve grown to know and love over the last several years–lots of hugs, catching up, making plans, laughing, hand-shaking, more hugs… Truly a joyous moment.

I was supposed to be at the Somali Center again this morning but it was (much to everyone’s surprise, since the community center staff hadn’t said anything to anyone) closed for President’s Day. Now I’ve got all my handouts and lesson plans ready for next week, anyway. Tomorrow I’ll be back at Mary’s Place for a bit, and then the rest of the week I’m at a quilt conference in Virginia feeding that other part of my soul.

I do love teaching–especially people who so want to learn. And I love learning, especially from people who so want to teach. I can’t wait for next week.

Sorta makes you want to treat them with a little more respect…

Charlie Brown: Don’t think of it as dust. Think of it as maybe the soil of some great past civilization. Maybe the soil of ancient Babylon. It staggers the imagination. He may be carrying soil that was trod upon by Solomon, or even Nebuchudnezzar.
Pig-Pen: Sort of makes you want to treat me with more respect, doesn’t it?

Helen Louise Allen Textile Collection

I’ve been a fan of fabric for a long time, of course. Hard to be a quiltmaker without falling in love with the concept of fabric in general. But only since beginning my sabbatical study into textiles have I come to an understanding of how deeply embedded textiles are in our self-understanding. (You should be thankful I resisted the rather obvious “how much textiles are woven into the fabric of our self-understanding” analogy.)

I’m still reading Quilt of Belonging–now renewed from my local library. I should probably just buy it. There’s a lot to absorb in this book–I could be reading it well past the next several renewal dates and, frankly, the library probably wants it back.

Today I had the one-two-punch of watching a couple of Great Courses lectures on DVD about art in the Louvre followed by a return to the introduction of Quilt of Belonging, and have once again been pondering the role of art in our cultures. The Louvre, once a palace, was turned into a public museum with collections from all over the European world both for public edification but also as an in-your-face proclamation of conquest and superiority. “Look at us, we have your art, we own you,” it screamed at the time. And yet, if it weren’t for the Louvre and other public displays that quickly followed, many works of art would have remained only in private collections and the rest of us would never have been able to experience or learn from them.

(Yes, I’m guilty of a grave simplification of centuries of process. But blogs are short. Forgive me.)

Then, I turn to Quilt of Belonging and am immersed in a world in which collecting art from many cultures and peoples is not an act of conquest but, rather, an act of community. Here we are, all of us together, no one better than another. It’s not ownership, but embrace.

When we choose to own art, what is driving us? For some, an expression of wealth (look at what I can afford to own). For others, an expression of being part of the “in crowd,” (aren’t I smart and hip, I know who the art world has proclaimed as up-and-coming). But I think those folks are in the minority. Most of us choose to own art–be it painting, photographic, textile, sculpted, or otherwise, or “purchased time with art” through attending plays and concerts*–because something in that work of art appeals to us. It symbolizes something to us, or brings back a memory, or whatever. Perhaps we also own art that says something about us to the outside world–this is who I am, this is what I like, this says something about me. Art has both an inductive and deductive response, in that respect–inductive: what do I see in this work; deductive: what does this work say about me to others?

Fabric is most often seen as a mundane means to an end. We might enjoy a pattern or the feel of a particular fabric, but fabric itself has largely lost its representation. We focus more on what that fabric has been made into–the fashionable dress or the meticulously-pieced quilt. And yet, my study has led me to a greater understanding and appreciation for the fabric itself–the very act of spinning something (cotton, wool, linen, etc.) into thread, thread into warp and weft, dying threads or printing fabric, to ultimately become something greater than the component parts. For centuries, fabric was imbued with meaning and symbolism–the way it was woven and the colors it was dyed in symbolized social standing, often religious meaning; the way it was passed from one family to the next symbolized politics and (again) social standing. Actually, fabric and social standing are a major theme in everything I’m reading. I’m sure that will be popping up again in this blog at some point.

I feel like I’m wandering a bit today through a lot of unconnected thoughts–but that’s how learning works. Put a lot in there, swim it around for awhile, and eventually sift out what it might mean. You’re witnessing the first two parts of that process today. Basically, the question for my pondering today is about art from the consumer aspect–not necessarily “consumer” as in purchaser, although ownership is a part of my thoughts, clearly; but “consumer” as the one who is receiving, viewing, experiencing art, not the creator. Most of the rest of my sabbatical study is from the creation aspect, so this is an interesting flip for me to the other side of the equation.

What does it mean to want to purchase a piece of art? What are we connecting with? What does that particular piece of art represent or mean to us? And what do we think displaying it says about us to others? What messages do we see in the art, and what messages are we sending to others about that piece of art on display in our homes?

*You may wonder about my lack of reference to writing as art here. Writing is clearly art to me–and one I am most connected to by nature. But it’s often more difficult to include writing in these same categories as it is visual arts. I’ve not run across the same references to books being traded as representation of families coming together in marriage, for example, or books being confiscated and displayed as symbols of conquest. But there are certainly parallels–what we choose to read is due to having a personal connection with the story or, conversely, because everyone else is reading it and we want to be part of that “in crowd” as well; sometimes we display certain books on our shelves because of what it seems to say about us to visitors, whereas on the flipside, the rise of e-readers has also given rise to sales in certain genres of fiction because now people can read these in public without others knowing what is being read. This is probably the topic for another kind of blog.

Nuances of Meaning

 

I had a very enjoyable three hours last night helping a friend for whom English is not a first language work through some college classwork. She’s taking a biblical studies course during her first semester at a four-year college. She’s pretty fluent in English these days, but the professor has the class reading Jurgen Moltmann, Walter Brueggemann, John Wesley, and others; I said that when I was in seminary I’d have to read things multiple times myself to finally figure out what it was saying, so she was in good company. First language or not, some writing is just dense to wade through. As I warned her, it’s been a lot of years since I’ve been immersed in that style of writing–I was a bit rusty. I had to remember the language of academics first myself, and then try to figure out how to explain it in a way she could understand.

During the conversation, we got talking about biblical translations and interpretation, the role of culture in language, and how nuances of meaning can change as something is translated, then translated again, then translated again. People immersed in a new language culture are much more aware of these issues than most of us are–for every answer I gave her, she came up with another question that would poke at yet another nuance of meaning. “Well, yes and no,” I found myself saying over and over, and she’d just start laughing again.

During the evening, we also took some time to look at pictures I had taken when visiting refugee camps in Thailand a few years ago; she had grown up in one of those camps so for her it was a nostalgic walk down memory lane–more good memories than bad. It was fun for me too as she told me stories spurred by the photos, giving those images layers of life beyond even my own experience of having been there. But our conversation about language continued:  one picture was of a sign written in Karen (pronounced “kah-RIN,” one of the ethnic groups of Burma) with it’s English translation. I’d never been able to figure out what the English, “Women Exchange,” was actually describing. She gave me her own English interpretation of the Karen phrase. It took her a few minutes to figure out which English words would most closely match what was being described in Karen, but as it turned out,  her description made ever so much more sense than the English in the picture. I wish I’d thought to ask her years ago. After five minutes of discussion, we turned the words “Women Exchange” (which could have gone in so many different directions, really) to “Women’s Discussion Group” or, possibly, “Women’s Idea Exchange,” which is, frankly, a lot less scary and a whole lot more empowering. I can get behind those much more than something that originally sounded like a bad TV reality show.

We wandered through a lot of language together in three hours. My brain hasn’t gotten that much of a workout in a long time. I had a ball.

And this is why I love working with textiles. It pulls you completely out of that vocabulary and drops you right into another one; a vocabulary of color, shape, texture. There are cultural assumptions built into that vocabulary as well, certainly. Colors don’t have the same symbolism from one part of the world to the next. Images used as meaningful symbols in one time period become simply decorative or completely change meaning altogether a generation later.

This is part of what I’ve (ironically) had difficulty putting into words as I’ve described my sabbatical plans to others. I want to learn the language of textiles from other cultures–I want to be exposed to yet another vocabulary of color, shape, and texture formed out of cultural experiences so different from mine. Why use these particular materials? What do these shapes mean, if anything? What story is being told through these colors and designs? What does this artwork reveal about the daily life and concerns of the maker?

Now, mind you, I’m also very aware that not everything a person makes reveals such deep and profound things. If someone were to look at all my quilt projects over the years, often they’d just see the story of someone in too much of a hurry to worry over details, or someone who just liked a particular color at a particular time–not some big cultural exposé. But on the flip side, they would be able to see the influence of where I live, when I live, who I rub shoulders with, and what has been passed down through the generations.

I look forward to getting to know some new women over the next few months…women who will help me question my assumptions and find new nuances of meaning in my own vocabulary. Yep, I’m really looking forward to my own Women Exchange (now that I know just what the heck that is).

Beauty and Identity in Harsh Times

“On my trips to Slovakia, I collected and was given textiles by my new family and friends. The country prides itself on its distinctive regional embroidery styles, and textiles are especially treasured in Slovak homes and history. The hand-embroidered pieces placed in my hands spoke to me. Incredibly, through years of difficult circumstances, extensive embroidery work has been continued. The simplest articles became works of art: pockets to hold combs, costumes, tablecloths, bedding, and even work clothes for farmers. The fabrics could be coarse homespun or fine linen, but the need to embellish, to produce beauty and identity even in harsh times spoke to me of the indomitable human spirit.”

 I’m currently reading Quilt of Belonging: The Invitation Project, by Esther Bryan and Friends (2005, Boston Mills). Esther Bryan, an artist, found a new direction for her art when she had the opportunity to accompany her father back to his homeland of Slovakia in 1994, after the fall of the Iron Curtain–the first time he had been able to reunite with his family after almost 50 years of being separated. As he retraced his roots, his daughter Esther gained a new understanding of how people express themselves through art. The Quilt of Belonging became a work of art that would include “all who needed to belong, artist or not.” 

Usually I skim pretty quickly through introductions in quilt books to get to the pretty, pretty pictures. But in this case, I keep finding myself going back and re-reading paragraphs–I haven’t even gotten to the pictures yet. What she’s saying is so close to what I’ve begun to ponder–the making of art in the midst of harsh times. The need for beauty even when day-to-day life is a struggle. Maybe especially then. So many women that I’ve gotten to know from a variety of cultures–women who have seen or lived through far worse in their lives than I can imagine–do gorgeous embroidery or beautiful weaving on the most mundane, every day objects. And I know in myself, when I’m at my most stressed is when I find myself wanting to get my hands on fabric. 

I imagine I’ll be blogging about this book a bit more–I’m seriously digging it. Unfortunately, I don’t know any Slovakian women to find out more about that particular style of textile art. I looked it up–here’s a link to Flickr set with photos of Slovakian embroidery. I’ve been given permission by the owner, red2white, to post it. Beautiful!

 

And So It Begins…Almost

Sabbatical (noun): any extended period of leave from one’s customary work, especially for rest, to acquire new skills or training, etc. (www.dictionary.com)

Fabri-Sabbatical (noun): any extended period of leave that involves fabric. (Sandy)

I have the very great privilege–and I understand what a great privilege it is!–to serve an organization with a sabbatical policy. Staff are granted sabbaticals every few years for renewal and the opportunity to learn and grow in ways that our usual work-a-day schedules may not as easily allow us. My sabbatical proposal for three months in 2012 has just been approved, so I’m now in a time of preparation for that event. In other words, I’m starting to put a few brightly-colored textile ducks in a row.

My sabbatical will involve two things that deeply engage my spirit: the lives of women and girls around the world, and fabric. I’ll be exploring how women express themselves through textiles–how they uphold cultural tradition in the midst of change and dislocation, how they express themselves creatively, how they use their “voice” through their art, how they create beauty in the midst of difficulty and struggle, and how (in some communities) they support themselves and their families through creating items for sale or trade.

I’ll be doing this partly through rather traditional forms of study. However, more so, if I can work it out, I’ll be learning traditional textile arts from women who practice them. I’m making connections with women from around the world who have relocated here to my hometown; if they are able to take the time, I’d like to learn their cultural arts from them.

I don’t expect to become hugely proficient at any textile art during the timeframe I have alotted; nor do I expect to have completed embroidered tablecloths or woven shirts by the end of sabbatical. What I do hope is that I’ll have met some really wonderful women and gotten to know them at a slightly deeper level.  I hope to be doing what women have been doing for thousands and thousands of years–joining together to pass knowledge and skills from one woman to the next while telling stories, sharing problems and joys, being silly and serious, and making community.

I’ll also be doing a lot of creative self-expression through textiles myself. (Read: Quilting.)

I’ve been asked to blog about my experiences, and I decided this may well warrant a slightly different blog than my just-for-fun quilting blog, although there may well be overlap. So folks can choose if they want to follow one or the other, or follow both. Or neither. This one will probably be less prolific–especially before my sabbatical begins. But I figured I’d start it now since I’m already doing some reading and trying to make some connections–I’ll pop up a post now and again, but with no great regularity.

And off we go…