Overthinking our stories

So at this year’s retreat I took a chance and inflicted a forced a group activity on everyone. During dinner on our second night, I handed everyone a number between 1 & 12, and got them to get up and move to that table. The idea was to shift everyone around, and get them connecting and chatting to a new group of people who they may not have met yet. To make it less awkward and painful, I gave them some juicy questions that I just knew they would have no trouble answering.

My favourite question was the third one - “What is your dream project - and why the bejeezus haven’t you made it yet?” :) :) :).

It’s such a fun question and the answers were illuminating. There were all sorts of reasons being tossed around, but what became clear to me was that a big part of the why fell into two caterogories. The first was that we were overthinking rather than doing and the second was that we had a bunch of stories around our dream project that just weren’t true.

You see, before I forced everyone into group activity I was a little worried (OK - a lot worried) that they would haaate it. Group activities are not my favourite thing. I get awkward and nervous and a little shy, and then often overcompensate by overtalking. It’s a messy thing to watch. So I checked in with my women about whether it was a good idea, and they weren’t sure either - they were 50/50 on whether it was going to make everyone feel good and more connected, or just be weird. After too-ing and fro-ing I decided that the only thing to do was to trust my gut and try. Overthinking about whether it would work or not was not helping me one iota. There was no answer to be found in thinking about it - and all it was doing was making me crazy. I sat in the discomfort of not-knowingness, of fear of failure, and handed out the numbers.

And I’m so glad I did. So many people came up and told me later that it was one of their favourite parts of the event. That they loved the questions, and the cushy way they were forced to chat to new people within the structure of a directed conversation. So many absolutely beautiful connections came out of these deep and heartfelt conversations as people authentically shared about their most meaningful making.

So back to my favourite question. Why don’t we make the thing we truly want to make. Here is a sample list of the reasons….

• Because I’m not good enough yet.

• Because I don’t think I could do it as beautifully as I want to.

• Because I need more practice and more experience.

• Because the materials I want to use are so special.

• Because I don’t want to screw it up.

• Because I don’t have the time yet.

Most of these reasons aren’t actual reasons not to try. They are stories that we roll around in and overthink, that ensure we don’t act. Or if we do act, we don’t act freely. Instead we act with these stories rolling around in our heads - each time we think about them we are assessing whether or not they are true and whether they matter.

I’ve spoken before on the blog about the false economy of not making, about how we are all practising in the gap, and how the only way to get good enough to do the thing we want to do is to do the thing we want to do. Often the only way to learn to write a novel is to write a novel. The only way to learn to run a marathon is to run a marathon. And the only way to learn to make that beautiful colourwork sweater is to make a colourwork sweater.

We can go to as many workshops as we can afford, and read as many books as we can find, but the only way to really do the thing we want to do is put the rubber to the road and try. When we are trying to make, we learn by making. We need to feel the materials in our hands, manipulate them in some way and experience the results.

Planning can only take us so far. To avoid the overthink that leads to paralysis and stories and excuses - the only option we have is to try, something, anything. We need to act - to make some forward movement towards what we want. One step towards our goal is often enough to propel us forward into a new mindset that makes the whole project seem possible. To shift out of our fear into doing, and by doing allow ourselves and our projects to change shape.

When we start, we often find that the thing we were overthinking is not very difficult at all. Like colourwork or cables or natural dyeing or sewing pleats. It is simply another skill to add to the multitude of skills we have learnt since we took our first breath.

We might have more to learn, and our first attempt might be rubbish, but our second attempt will benefit from our first in untold ways. And that without our first attempt we sit in the paralysis and the overthink for years longer than we have to. Sometimes we have to make bad art to make good art.

Now obviously this isn’t always the case - sometimes we genuinely don’t have the experience we need to have to make the thing we want to make and we end up with a howling ugly hot mess of an object - but does that really matter? Many things are salvagable, and even when they aren’t it generally doesn’t result in an apocalypse.

I’m hoping that the conversations that the women had on that night at The Craft Sessions will be that very push to get them started on making their dream project. I’m hoping that the very act of saying what’s stopping them outloud, will be the first movement towards making their dream become realised. Because often, from what I’ve seen, the only thing that is holding us back is overthinking our fears, leading to overempahsising our stories about why we can’t, leading to a paralysis in our planning.

And I’m hoping there will be follow-on as I’ve been suffering from a bit of blog paralysis lately - the ideas that I have getting stuck in overthinking about what I should say and how I should say it. This blog post is about me getting myself out of overthinking and into action. Hurrah for that.

Can you tell me about your dream project - and why you haven’t started yet?

Felicia x

Craft Sessions Retreat As A Microclimate!

So this post normally comes the week after the retreat, but life has had other plans for me I’m afraid. Not bad plans but plans that meant no photos were edited until recently. My apologies! Especially as there are so many pretty photos! So many beautiful things were made and so many techniques explored and so many gorgeous smiling faces.

Since the retreat I’ve been thinking a lot about why it’s such a joy to be there …. and then while reading my new favourite book The Guilty Feminist* it occurred to me that we have created our own crafty microclimate! A microclimate where we celebrate our craft and the richness it brings to our lives. A microclimate where women are celebrated, stories are shared, and inclusion is the norm.

This is actually pretty rare. Most people in my life don’t reaaaaly get what it is I do or why I feel compelled to do it. Many articles in the media trivialise what it is that we do. There aren’t that many spaces where craft and making are normalised.

Anyway it’s lead to me reflect on the community that has come out of the retreat over the years (and Soul Craft) and how special it is to be surrounded by your people. Thank you all for coming. x

Enjoy

Felicia x

* My new favourite book! I adored it. This is a must read for all humans.

Craft As A Project V's Craft As A Practice

One of the things I love about writing the blog is it's self sustaining nature. By writing one post, and responding to the comments, another post appears. As was the case for this post. The lovely Karen suggested that I look at an article that was published originally on The Conversation by Susan Luckman about the health benefits of craft. And I loved it. It is such a step forward in terms of the public dialog about what craft is, and what it offers. Who else here would love to never see "Not your nana's knitting...." in an article ever again.

Some of you might know that I've been trying to write a book for the last couple of years. A book in which I'm writing about "Craft As An Elevated Life"*. I try not to talk about it too much based on a Derek Sivers clip about how talking about something makes us feel like we have already achieved it**...... but my book is essentially about the connection between hand making and our wellbeing. It is about craft as a ongoing practice, and in part I'm writing it to rewrite our cultural story about what craft is..... because clearly, as so many articles about craft demonstrate, craft has a marketing problem.

As I was reading The Conversation article today I could suddenly see that part of the problem is the difference between how craft is perceived culturally, and what I know that it is. That difference is the difference between a craft project and a craft practice.

You see craft is often presented as a craft project. You "work on a craft project". There are articles about "10 craft projects you can do in 20 minutes". Many of those projects look and feel trivial. They are made as simple as possible as that is one of the restrictions of magazines. They need projects that are accessible and they think that accessible means quick and dumbed down. What many of these projects lack is meaning. Craft done in this manner can seem trivial. A little project to keep you busy if you've got a bit of time on your hands. A hobby.

That is not how I see craft. The craft I know is the craft that elevates my life no matter what is going on, no matter how shit things are or how great things are, is not project based. It's my craft practice that fills me up; an ongoing practice where I repeat the same process - idea, design, materials, making, completion and then utility - over and over again. It's the repetition of process that is what enhances my wellbeing and elevates my life.

There is a depth to a craft practice that is little understood outside our bubble of makers. How craft, creating things, making things makes us come alive. How craft offers us a way to sit with hard things, a portable boredom solution, self expression, everyday beauty. And how craft offers us artifacts of the process and the part we played in it; the things that we make, reminding us of our agency, our patience, our skills and capacity.

According to Dr Martin Seligman - the grandfather of positive psychology - enhancing our wellbeing has five key elements. They are positive emotion, meaning, good relationships, flow or engagement, and achievement.

A craft project taps into maybe three of these five, giving me some positive emotion, maybe some flow and a sense of achievement. However, it is only through my craft practice that I tap into all five elements of wellbeing in a deep and more meaningful way.

Craft as a practice taps into all five elements of wellbeing over and over again. As well as giving me access to positive emotion, flow and achievement, my craft practice improves my relationships - both with the people that I make for, and with the community that exists around our shared passion for hand making. And it adds so much meaning to our lives as it enables us to truly live our values and then live among the artifacts of the process.

A craft practice embodies wellbeing. Craft as wellbeing, craft as life support for the everyday hard. Wellbeing that I know I have access to whenever I need it.

Craft is a gift.

Craft as it's generally portrayed through mainstream media is one dimensional. It's a simple craft project done as a hobby by someone who enjoys making things.

What I can't wait to see more of, as our understanding of what craft offers increases, is articles depicting a craft practice as a holistic way to achieve wellbeing. Not in the moment, or for a moment, as a craft project does, but rather as an ongoing practice for a satisfied life.

Can't wait to read your comments.

Felicia x

*I originally wrote an article for the beautiful Making Magazine using this title.

**Please kick my ass if I don't!!

Other blog posts that are on similar topics include The True Magic Of Making or Craft As Embodied Satisfaction.

Sew, knit, quilt for the joy.

I'm a hungry human; one of those slightly crazed individuals who needs to eat first thing in the morning just so that they can function as a person. And so, each morning I consciously put on my oxygen mask before helping others.

I whip my eggs, I take the minute or two to scramble them, I wilt my spinach, grab a glass of water and then I sit down for approximately three glorious minutes to eat them. Sometimes I read a book as I do so feeling happy as a lark.

All up this process takes no longer than 6 or 7 minutes.

During this time I often ignore my children. I might put some toast on for someone if I have time while the eggs are in the pan, but once my brekkie is on the table I pretend I'm single for those three beautiful minutes.

On occasion, I've interacted with those who think this behaviour is slightly appalling. People that believe that any self-respecting, loving mother should, or rather would, feed her children first. That service to the needs of one's children is the essence of the role of mothering.

That may be true, but what I've learnt over the long years of motherhood is that motherhood is long.* And, that in order to do it with any type of grace, I need to have my needs met.

My most basic need is my need to be fed. Without food, I am an emotionally-unbalanced human with a tendency to snap. There is no zen mother in that space.

I (clearly) need more than eggs to make me feel like a healthy human. I need to be getting time to do something joyful with some kind of regularity.

Sometimes I will get time a few times a week, whereas at other times weeks may go by without me really getting a hour or three where I can breathe.

Without space and time and joyous freedom, my work as a human, not just as a mother, is substandard.

To do our best work, to be our best humans, to feel good about our place in the world, we need to be in our best shape. And that means taking time to fill ourselves up - and seeing that as a valid use of our time.

As an accepted cultural norm, we have been taught to put ourselves last. Last behind our roles as workers, siblings, mothers, fathers, community members, children of elderly parents, volunteer sports teachers. That being productive is how we live a worthwhile life. We are taught to exist on the scraps that is left over at the end of the day. We are taught that to prioritise ourselves, to take time is indulgent, selfish, vain almost. It's unattractive to be selfish.

To prioritise one's own needs and desires (by eating our eggs) is seen to be a deficit of character. Who do you think you are? Why do you deserve time when everyone else is so stretched? How dare you?

But what would we be capable of if we weren't running on empty? If we came to our jobs with eggs and spinach filling our bellies. If we'd had a couple of hours in our sewing rooms working on a project that swelled our hearts and made us feel like the sparkly, creative, joyous humans that we are.

I know that life doesn't always provide this time or this space. I don't always eat my eggs first. Sometimes life is hard and there is no time for anyone. But I also know that sometimes, when life does give us space, we feel guilty for taking it and feel we should be doing something else. We should be doing something productive, something for the family, for the community, for others.

I used to feel crippling guilt that meant I didn't craft even when I wanted to as I felt I should be being more productive. Doing housework or some such nonsense.

But over time I've tried to consciously practice a different way of thinking. A way of thinking that sometimes prioritises joy not even for wellbeing but simply for joy.

Just the other day, my friend Jenn and I played hooky for a whole Friday afternoon - when we both had work that needed doing - to make Wiksten Kimono's. It felt joyous and fun and two weeks later I'm still feeling the smug satisfaction of a jacket made when one should have been doing something else.

Life involves so many shoulds, and sometimes the only way to get this time is to take it. To sit with the discomfort of eating our eggs in front of someone who believes that you should be feeding our children first. To choose to not take on someone else's disapproval, or value system, about taking time for joy and wellbeing.

Instead practicing choosing to consciously grow strong in the knowledge that this time is critical to our wellbeing, to the wellbeing of the people we love, and to a joyous life. And that is enough.

(UPDATED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT TO ADD - And why do we only feel it's valid if it's wellbeing oriented. Where does joy fit into this? Surely some part of life has to involve joy for joy's sake. Not simply for wellbeing or so we can be our best humans for others. But simply because making makes us joyful. And eggs make me joyful!)

Love to hear your thoughts. Do you struggle with this or do you have this sorted? If so, did it come naturally or did you have to practice?

Felicia x

*Other blog posts you might enjoy that are along these lines are;

Craft as "a little space to collect oneself"
Craft in the middle of motherhood
Why Making Matters More Than Ever

Making is not inherently creative.

Creativity is one of those words that gets bandied about in our culture as a way of making us all feel good..... Creative - yes! "I'd love to be more creative". Or "my organisation needs more creativity". Creative thinkers! That's what we all need. And that's great. All power to everyone - creativity deserves it's recognition. It's fun, it's sparkly, it's clever.

But it also divides us when we create this two tiered system of "creative people" and "not creative people". So many of us feel that we aren't creative, or if we are creative then we aren't quite as creative as the next tiger we see on instagram. And because we don't have any creativity, or don't have enough of it, or can't find it on the day we need it, then we end up feeling a bit shit.

Our crafty creativity is often commented on when someone admires our work. Which would be fine, except that I worry about people opting out of craft because they feel they are not creative. I hear it all the time as I wander around making in public - from people that make already who wish they could make something better or something different, but also from people that don't make at all. The line is often "I wish I could but I'm not a creative person".

What I want to say is "you are creative, we all are" but as that's something many people can't swallow without a lengthy discussion, what I often say is "....but you don't need to be creative to make". They um and ah a bit, but then I try (often unsuccessfully) to walk them through my point......

I do not think it means what you think it means.

Creativity has become a bit of a catchall buzz word. We use it a little too often, a little too flippantly and often totally incorrectly.

In the immortal words of Inigo Montoya in the Princess Bride, "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means".

“Creativity is the use of imagination or original ideas to create something; inventiveness.”

— Google...

How often do you hear something like "you're so creative' when someone realises you have made the dress you are wearing? How do they know that I've used any creativity in the making of said dress? They don't, but they believe that making something crafty, sewing , knitting, quilting etc is inherently creative.

But here's the thing... often my making is simply a process I've followed which involves little, if any, creativity.

Because making is not inherently creative.

The lovely Marnie.

Some skills are creative, some skills are not?

Hear me out.

In life there is a basic set of skills we assume that all people will have. All people will be able to write their name, drive a car, wash a dish, put a sheet on their bed, use a shovel, change a light globe, tie their shoe laces, put on mascara. These are the surface skills we have which are visible. Underneath those skills are a whole heap of truly amazing things we have learnt to do, like balance and walk and talk and coordinate our fingers.

However, in our culture, in this decade, we don't assume that all people can knit a sweater or sew a dress - when the simple fact is that of course they can. It might take time and practice - as it did learning to drive a car - but all people are capable of knitting a sweater in the same way that all people are capable of writing their name.

So why have we segregated the skills involved in making/craft and slapped them with the label creativity? What makes the skills involved in knitting, sewing and quilting different, and deserving of such a label?

Consider this different example -  we don't often refer to garment workers in a factory as creative. We see them as skilled, yes. They can make beautiful things that are beautifully finished! But creative? No. They are following a process - just like most of our making is following a process too. And yet our making is often deemed to be creative. Why?

And what about creating a loaf of bread using someone else's recipe - is that a creative act? I don't think so - I think it is a process. Maybe you do too?

A Brief Clarification - Of Course Making can be creative.

I wholeheartedly acknowledge that within our crafty fields of endeavor there are many opportunities to involve our creativity. Some projects might even be almost solely a creative act. But I know that within most of my making, and most of the making I see around me, that creativity only plays a small part in the project.

While some making is incredibly creative, making itself is not an inherently creative act.

The majority of my making is simply using my skill as a sewer or a knitter. In fact, I would ballpark guess that for most projects I tackle over 90% of the decisions I make are skill based rather than creative.

Most of the making I do does not involve my imagination, nor does it involve original ideas. I am often not being inventive. I am (generally) following a pattern to achieve a result.

My making skills - using a sewing machine and wrapping yarn around sticks - are like many other skills I have. I can also use a computer and tie my shoe laces too. Each of these skills use my hands and my head in a particular way. Each of these skills involved practice and have seen me become more proficient over time.

Volo pullover as comfort craft - non-creative making?

A Current Example

I'm currently making this beautiful sweater by Orlane @tete_beche called the Volo Pullover. And I want to hypothesise that there is only 1% of this sweater making that involves any form of creativity.... and that is choosing the colours. I would then also want to contradict myself by stating that I'm not even sure that this is a creative decision, bounded as it was by what scraps I had available, and supported by my many years of practice of choosing colours. Again choosing colours could be said to be a learned skill?

The making of this sweater, the creation of this sweater, is not an inherently creative act. It is a skills-based act that is as skills-based as doing the dishes.

I could have made this jumper without making any sort of creative decision by using the same colours as Orlane used in the pattern. And it would have been beautiful.

Yes we can make a sweater that is a creative process - one where we are stretched and inventive, and coming up with original ideas. As exhibit A I offer my old colourwork sweater below. A sweater that I made without a pattern, a plan or a model for what it should be. It evolved and was shaped by my imagination. It is an example of making as a creative act.

But we can also make a sweater like exhibit B (above) that is simply using our skills - like my Volo sweater in the photo above - where we follow a pattern and simply follow the process using our skills.

This is where we (culturally) get confused....

Due to our cultural confusion around words like creativity, talent, making, art, and craft there are many people who would have see my Volo sweater and believed it to be a inherently creative act. They would believe that you need to be a "creative person" in order to make either of these sweaters. My contention is that for Exhibit A you would but not for Exhibit B.

Creative making where I wrote the numbers, chose the colours, chose the colourwork pattern and designed the sweater as I went. A vastly different process to knitting a sweater using someone else's pattern.

My question is why?

Why do we segregate our making/craft skills from other life skills we have and label them as inherently creative? Why do we talk about craft as if it is an inherently creative act, rather than one within which we can use our creativity if we so choose? What is the difference between sewing a skiivy and riding a bike?

Is it simply that we think of "creating" something like a sweater as inherently creative because we are confused by the word "creating"? Yes we are "creating" something. Yes, we are taking materials and creating an object ....but the creation of that object doesn't necessarily involve our creativity.

Do we label craft as creative to increase the status we get by engaging in craft? So people think of crafters as "talented" or as people who possess that extra special creative spark? And there is a kudos that comes from being a creative person. Is that what we seek? Is that what someone is trying to bestow on us when they are being kind and admiring our work?

Have we just not thought about it?

My Concern!

I want more people to consider making something, anything, as a way of finding joy and satisfaction. And I think the false label of creativity can be discouraging. My issue is how many people we exclude from our sport when we label craft as creative.

"Some people can craft - because they are creative - and some people can't."

It's just not true! Because we can make beautiful meaningful things without a creative bone in our bodies.*

By labeling all making as creative, we make the things we do seem less learnable, more complicated and more woo-woo-secret-sauce than they actually are.

Knitting and sewing and quilting are processes that use my skills. A process where I can, if I want, engage with my creativity, but I don't have to.

As always, love to hear your thoughts, even and especially if you think I'm totally off base.

Felicia x

* I wrote a blog post a few years ago called I'm not creative and I stand by that post. It's a post that states that we are all creative, but for people that don't buy the "we are all creative" line, I wanted to write this post stating my other belief and that is "you don't need to be creative to make". Kinda like a one, two punch combination. Take that tigers.