...But Is It Art?

                    art:  (ärt) noun 1. any form of human activity that is the product of

                       imagination and skill...

                                                       ~Gage Canadian Dictionary

With art and The Arts on my mind a lot lately, I have become very away that we all define art as something different, depending upon our own individual experience.  I have been told that art is only what you can hang on a wall.  That it is things like opera and ballet, obscure entertainments for the elite, but not for regular folks. That the people on the street don't understand art unless they have a university degree.  That true art is made by those passionate amateurs who squeeze it in between their day job and sleep.  That those who wish to be paid are "sell-outs", or worse, con-artists.

I have also been told that what I do is not really art.  The kinder critics inform me that I make fine craft.  (The "fine" is there to differentiate it from "macaroni-and-glitter" craft.)  Those less kind inform me that making yarn is not an art-machines can do it.  That knitting is not an art-grandmas can do it.  Weaving, well, sure, that's an art-except that since I only do plain-weave, maybe not so much. And best of all, I have been told that if I were a "real artist", I would be making art, not teaching.

I have been told all of these things, and more, by people who themselves profess to be artists.  And if artists can't agree on art, how can the rest of the world?  So I've decided it's time to re-define "art".  Or, rather, remind people of the actual definition of art.

Art is not something other, it is a part of the human experience.  Art stems from our observations of the world around us, both the natural and the mechanical.  Art comes when we apply the physical skills we have to our observations.  And for some of us that means painting a picture.  For others, it means telling a story.  Yet others dance.  Or make yarn. 

All of us are born with imagination.  We all have the power to observe the world around us through sights, sounds, smells, tastes and touches.  We all have responses to our experiences.  We laugh, we cry, we get angry, we hurt.  We live.  And all art is is the expression of the experience of living.

Now, not all of us have been trained to wield a paintbrush or execute a perfect arabesque.  In fact, most of us have not.  But we can still see the beauty around us, and we can choose a way to express our response that fits our skill set.  We can create a cozy home, or tally up a tidy column of numbers, or build a solid shed, or plant a garden, or cook an appetizing meal.  We can go to plays and movies, read books, or follow the patterns designed by others to make our own object of beauty. We can stand still and appreciate a beautiful sunset.  We can show a child how to arrange macaroni in the shape of a flower and sprinkle glitter on it to make it pretty.  In doing all of these things, we celebrate imagination and skill. 

There are those who have trained their minds and bodies to execute a skill that conveys their experience to the rest of the world.  Painters, dancers, singers, writers, designers, architects, sculptors, filmmakers, and makers have all worked hard to find a way to express that experience.  They share their observations with the rest of the world through the products of their labours.  They place experience in a physical context for us to see.  We don't always recognize the perspective, and it may make some of us uncomfortable, but for others, that viewpoint resonates and they see the art.  Our own skills may not extend to the designing and making of beautiful objects, but we all have the skills to choose, to combine, to rearrange, and to place context on the expressions of others.

Art is not other.  It is not strange, or unapproachable.  It is not a privilege reserved for the very rich or the very educated.  Art is our human experience, made physical.

Go out and make art.  Or live life.  It's the same thing.

Full Disclosure and The Other Side

On Friday, I issued a tiny crie de coeur here on my little blog about string.  I told the story of staff firings at our local college from the point of view of the friends I have who worked there and from students who will be impacted by the choices made.  I framed my comments in the context of the larger picture of the way the world is going and how those in the arts are perceived. (If you didn't take the time to read the link I provided, you missed out on a lot of the context.)  The cuts made to the Keyano VPA are, in my opinion, simply a small local reflection of a larger attitude, that Oil is King, and arts don't make money.  It was, simply, another blow in the battle.  One that struck close to home

What I didn't expect was that my post would be picked up and passed along the way it was.  I figured my Mom and the six other people who read me would shake their heads, mutter that I was off on another tangent, and the world would go on.  But picked up and passed along I was.

So, after two days of silence, the college has issued an official statement in response to the outcry by not only myself, but others stunned by the suddenness of Friday's events.  You can read it in it's entirety here: http://keyano.ca/news/open-letter-editor.

I encourage you to read this statement, and to make your own conclusions.  I also, however, stand by every word of my post as the truth as it was presented by those effected by these events.  I do realize that the official perspective and the personal perspective are vastly different.  I know that people exaggerate when telling tales to make their side look stronger, and I know that people in shock tend to use strong language.  I simply repeated the tales I was told, in the words they came to me in.  I am simply a chronicler of my experiences, and of those experiences shared with me.

I still feel that ANY cut to ANY arts education is a matter for public discussion.  I still feel that the manner in which the community was informed-or not informed-of the upcoming "improvements to arts delivery" was, at best, ham-fisted.  Perhaps, Keyano Folk, if you had been open and honest in explaining cuts and re-alignments in the first place, there would not have been the response to my post that there was.   Those six readers would have muttered, and that would have been it.

I would like to add at this point that there is a real need for trades training in our province.  I know that. I would also like to say that educational institutions do have to shift and grow as the focus of our society and economy changes.  But these changes were implemented with no warning to the college's staff, students, or community.  When change is introduced gradually, we move with it and adapt.  When you put a frog in a pot of cool water and gradually increase the heat, he will remain still until he is cooked.  When you drop a frog into a pot of boiling water, he screams and tries to fight back.

So this little frog screamed a little.

Another Sad Day for the Arts

Why does it seem like the only time I post anything to this blog lately is when I get my knickers in a twist?

Perhaps it's because I am creatively and physically blocked right now.

Perhaps it's because I am turning into that cranky old blogger who has nothing better to do than bitch.

Or, perhaps it's because so many stupid, petty, oppressive and small-minded people are doing so many stupid, petty, oppressive and small-minded things around me lately.  The list is never-ending,
and here's another one:  At 11:30 this morning, the faculty of the Visual and Performing Arts programs at our local college (Keyano College) were rounded up and given 15 minutes to clear their offices, then escorted from the premises by security.   They were not met with by the administration and gently informed that their programs and jobs had be cut.  They were not given pink slips.  They were not even notified by email that this was their last day at work.  They were escorted out.  By security.  Like common criminals.

These people had done nothing wrong.  The plain and simple truth is that the Board of Governors and the new president of the college crunched the numbers and the arts lost out to in-house training provided for the oilsands industry.  Plain and simple.  Money talks, and the arts walk.  Every. Fucking. Time.

It does not help that I read this little essay on the perception of a "cultural elite" from Salon this morning, either.  It speaks directly to the American experience of the arts, but the principle applies here, too.  For those who do not wish to follow the link, here is a brief summary: Art is something that children do.  It is a nice hobby for housewives and retired people.  Anyone who wants to be a professional artist is actually just trying to avoid having a real job while they live off of our hard-earned tax dollars.  Artists are "the other"-they are not regular, hard-working folks like you and me.  They do not belong in our country.

Now, I consider myself an artist, and I don't know about you, but I think I work damned hard.  I work 8-10 hours a day, if not longer, at my art.  I do not apply for an endless string of government grants.  I use the money I earn to pay my mortgage and buy groceries and make car payments and give my kids braces, like regular folk.  I PAY TAXES.  I am a regular working person, just like Joe Lunchbox, and I do not feel that I am entitled to special privileges because of what I do.  It's my job, just like being an accountant, or a doctor, or a truck driver.  Or a college president.

I am now one of a fistful of people who are making money in "the arts" in this community.  And I am not making "a living".  I am making money.  Modest money.  Nor am I making my money in the community I live in.  I have to travel hundreds of kilometres before I can get paid to do what I do.  And the way I make my money is to teach.  I teach people who dream of making art, of being creative, of living a life that is satisfying to their soul.

And that is all the young people of Fort McMurray want to do, too.  Not every kid who sings in a school choir is going to be the next Justin Bieber.  Not every kid who gets their artwork put up on Mom's fridge is the next Picasso.  And to be a working artist, they don't have to be.  Why shouldn't they have a chance to explore the art that makes them feel complete in an educational setting close to home. Why are we sending our best and brightest away?

Two of my three very artistically inclined children had to do just that.  And one of them was educated at Keyano College, in the very program that has now been slashed.  He, among other alumni, IS making a living (though a meagre one) as an artist.  My daughter had no other options, she had to leave this community to become a make-up artist, and she is now thriving in the fashion scene in Vancouver.  These are two home-town kids who could have added richness and variety to the community, but the opportunities were dwindling.  And now there are none.

So, Fort McMurray Moms and Dads, if you want your kids to stay in town, don't give them dance classes or piano lessons.  That sort of thing has no future here.

Teach 'em to drive a truck.

'Cuz that's what Keyano College wants them to do.

Empire State of Mind

Okay, so it's been a while again since I posted.  But this time I have a great excuse: New York.

Yup, that New York.

I had been invited by the Spinning Study Group of Long Island to come and do my Spinning Superior Socks workshop for them a while back, and I was, well, thrilled to say yes.  I have never been to that part of the world, and was pretty excited to have the opportunity to go.

There were several versions of the trip planned.  In one version, Steve was going to come with me and spend a week in Manhattan.  That fell through.  In the next version, I was going to meet Number One Son to celebrate his 25th birthday in New York.  That fell through.  In yet another version, I was going to fly to New Jersey and take a commuter plane to Long Island.  The airline changed that.  I was beginning to feel like the trip was doomed.

So, in the end, between the airline and the Guild and the crossed wires all around, I wound up on a plane to New York all by myself.  Off into the unknown!

And I arrived here...

at JFK airport, where my driver (I know!), Frank was waiting for me.  He drove me across the island to the lovely home of my host family for the weekend in Stony Brook.

Now, I always build in a cushion day when I travel.  You know, a day to cover airline delays, bad weather, lost baggage--that sort of thing.  This trip was as smooth as glass and that meant I had a day to kill before the workshop.  I was offered a ride into the village of Stony Brook, so I jumped in the car and away we went.

Stony Brook, NY is a lovely little town on the North Shore of Long Island, so I wandered along the harbour and through the town.  Spring had come a little early to New York, so everything was green and scenic, so the shutterbug in me was well-entertained for the day...

The next day was the workshop.  There were 8 intrepid spinners who came out on a warm and sunny Saturday afternoon to play with string...

...while outside, old-timey baseball re-creators were playing ball...

...and sheepies were grazing...

Meanwhile, we explored yarn structure and twist.  And the very talented spinners of the SSGLI had sock yarn by the end of the day.  (Happy Dance!)

That evening, a few of the workshop participants joined me at the guild president's home for a delicious dinner and a few glasses of wine.  And there were bunnies!  Angora bunnies (the very bestest kind of bunnies)....

Sunday dawned grey and wet.  As in raining cats and dogs.  The perfect day to blend fibres and spin more yarns.  We wound down the workshop just as the weather turned blustery and cold and we hunkered down for the night in a warm house with much knitting.

Now, during the course of the workshop, it sorta came out that I had never been to NYC before.  And that I wanted to go to NYC.  And it just so happened that I had a day before my flight.  Suggestions were made, directions given, and, suddenly, Monday morning, I was on a train to Manhattan.

I will admit that I was a little trepidatious about the trip.  I am not fond of concrete, crowds, and traffic and was afraid that the Big Apple would be overwhelming for this Country Mouse.  I could not have been more wrong!  It was love at first sight.

So, I touristed.  I went to the top of the Empire State Building, which was AWESOME. Windy, but awesome.  Even on an overcast day, I could see all of New York stretched out below me and I took way too many pictures of rooftops...

...and traffic...

...and Manhattan in general...

I had my day all mapped out, so, of course, I promptly made a wrong turn as I left the ESB and found myself wandering toward the Flatiron District, which is filled with amazing architecture.  More photos, including the building for which the neighbourhood was named...

...the Flatiron Building.

And, by happy coincidence, this neighbourhood is home to a New York institution that I had heard of from former MSP students...

...the Shake Shack.  Lunch was served...

...and well worth the half-hour wait in line and the elebenty-billion calories.

I took the time over lunch to get re-oriented and headed back toward my goals for the day, Times Square and the Garment District.  There wasn't really much to do at Times Square, so I took some more pictures...

...and mosied on.  I simply wandered the streets, taking a ridiculous number of pictures of buildings, including the New York Public Library...

....and more gargoyles and grotesques than you can shake a stick at...

...until I found myself in the Garment District.  Now, truth be told, this was my goal all along.  You see, nestled in a cozy little eighth-floor nook, just off 7th Avenue, is a tiny fibre paradise.  Habu Textiles.  Silks and stainless steel and wool and paper and linen and cotton and...Who knew so much could be crammed into such a tiny space, inside a nondescript door on West 29th?  Needless to say, yarn was acquired.  The perfect souvenir of my day in the big city.

The train whisked me back out to Long Island and I packed up my treasures.  The next morning, I was back at JFK and then back home.  Where I find myself in an Empire State of Mind...

In Which I Get Political

Okay, I know I've been gone a while.  And I know that this is a blog about fibre and string and artsy-fartsy stuff.  But I'm back, and I'm back with a vengeance.  Let the rant commence!

I am fed up with politics.  More specifically, I am fed up with the disturbing trend in politics towards picking on those perceived to be "different" in our society.  When attacking someone for being different from you happens in a grade school playground, it is called bullying.  When it happens in politics, it is apparently called "free speech".

First of all, for those of you reading this outside of Alberta:   We are in the last week of a provincial election campaign.  This campaign has been marred by extremist rhetoric and the ridiculous antics of a great many of the candidates and their supporters.  The mud slinging that has always made politics a rather dirty sport has been raised to a fine art in this campaign, and the hypocrisy has been mind-boggling.

I've always had a low tolerance for politicians.  And the promises that somehow never get kept.  And the pandering to special interests.  And the tax dollars being spent on big airplanes that never get delivered.  And political partisanship that places greater emphasis on who is in "power" than on the needs of the people who vote.  I think we all pretty much feel that way to some extent or another.  But, in the end, the roads and parks get built and the cities/provinces/nation carries on.

But this election campaign has been very different.  We have a new, untried political party entering the game, bringing us a new approach to politics in Alberta.  Hate and fear as political policy.  Terrible things, and I do mean hateful, cruel, sexist, racist, outright evil things, are being said.  Accusations of bias are being made against members of the media and they are being denied access to the candidates on that basis.  Individual citizens are being attacked for expressing their personal views on their blogs.

Still, I have sat back and watched.  I have my own political views, and yes, they tend to lean a little toward the left-I believe you can judge a society (and it's government) by the way it treats its weakest members.  I think that it is the government's job to provide a reasonable standard of living for every citizen, no matter their race, religion, gender, socio-economic class, sexual orientation, eye colour, or belly button alignment.  This sometimes mean I have to compromise one strongly held belief to accommodate another.  The reality is that we are all different and that we cannot all have everything our way every time.  It is up to a fair and just government to find the most workable middle-ground.

So why am I addressing politics on a string blog?  Because of Allan Hunsperger.

Mr. Hunsperger is a pastor at a church called The House in Tofield, AB.  He is running as a candidate for the Wild Rose Alliance Party in Edmonton-South West.  His official party bio seems innocuous enough, but over this past weekend,  his true stripes were revealed.   A blog post on Mr. Hunsperger's church's website The House Today (nope, not gonna link it!), revealed that Mr. Hunsperger has a rather dim view of our non-heterosexual citizens and that he feels that the Edmonton Public School district's policy protecting students from harassment based upon gender and sexual identification is "profane and wicked".
This Man of God then goes on to tell us that "accepting people the way they are is cruel and not loving".  (The original post has been deleted from the blog, but you can read it here.)

Now, fine.  Mr. Hunsperger is a minister of an Evangelical church, and he is entitled to preach whatever his belief leads him to preach.  But when one uses a public forum--and yes, the internet is a very public forum---to attack duly-elected public officials for protecting marginalized children, well...the shit may just hit the fan.  And hit the fan it did.

But this is still not the part that stirred me to action.

You see, freedom of speech is freedom of speech.  A lot of people say things that I find annoying, or misinformed, or outright abhorrent all the time.  And I probably do the same.  And we choose to ignore or question the things that we disagree with, depending upon our inclination at that moment.  Sometimes vile words fill us with indignation, and we respond.  Other times, we shrug and walk away.

Well, a few fine bloggers and journalists chose to respond.  They linked and reposted Mr. Hunsperger's blog post.  And this is where I got wound up.

Those who commented upon the diatribe of a religious zealot were accused of religious intolerance.  Yep.  The supporters of the Wild Rose Alliance played the God card.  You see, telling someone that they are going to "suffer the rest of eternity in a lake of fire" because they do not conform to the narrow norm set by Mr. Hunsperger's god is free speech and religious freedom.  But disagreeing with that statement, or even repeating it within the context of open debate is persecution.

Telling someone that their statements are hurtful, that public attacks on a group of people based upon sexual orientation are inappropriate if you are running for political office, these things are not religious intolerance.  Telling someone that they are spreading hate by telling children that they will "burn in a lake of fire" because they are attracted to someone of the same gender is not religious intolerance.  Calling hurtful words hurtful is free speech.  We accept your right to say them, but be prepared to accept our right to say we don't like it.

If the WRP had left well enough alone, or even stated that Mr. Hunsperger's views did not reflect those of the party, things probably would have died down a bit.  Instead,  party leader Danielle Smith spoke out in support of Mr. Hunsperger's right to mix a narrow religious interpretation with politics.  And now, Mr. Hunsperger has removed the post that he had every right to write, and claims to "fully support equality for all people, and condemn any intolerance based on sexual orientation or any other personal characteristic," .  If his religious conviction was so pure, and his freedom to state it so unshakable, why is he backing down?

This has added impetus to the attacks upon the bloggers and journalists who have spoken out against the WRP and their rather impressive roster of, er....fringe...candidates and their support of "conscience rights" for government employees.  The culture of bullying, of media favouritism, of policy concealment, and of rhetorical slight-of-hand that pervades this party has given a voice to the angry and disenfranchised across our province, and those angry and disenfranchised individuals are using the airwaves and social media to yell louder and punch harder than ever before.  

Free speech goes both ways, folks.  If you do not agree with someone, you can walk away, as you would like those of us who disagree with you to do.  But the WRP and their supporters are not letting us walk away.  They are tweeting and blogging and phoning our homes.  They are name-calling, spamming, and robo-dialling those who do not agree with them.  They are bullying anyone who is not like them, and   bullying is violence, whether physical, verbal, or virtual via cyber-bullying.

And I do not want a government of bullies running my province.  It's time to stand up to bullies and to say that I have a right to my beliefs, too.  And I believe that politicians who are willing to tell young people that they will burn in hell for being born are people I do not want speaking for me on other matters,  not even the building of roads and parks

So I will make my voice heard.  I will vote.  And I will encourage all Albertans to vote.  For whomever you wish.  But vote.

'Cuz when the bullies start beating up your friends, you'll wish you had said something earlier.

Telling someone that their statements are hurtful, that public attacks on a group of people based upon sexual orientation are inappropriate if you are running for political office, these things are not religious intolerance.  Telling someone that they are spreading hate by telling children that they will "burn in a lake of fire" because they are attracted to someone of the same gender is not religious intolerance.  It is calling

An Act of Shameless Self-Promotion

For those of you in the Vancouver/Lower Mainland region of British Columbia (or those of you who can get there on this short notice), I would like to remind you that Fibres West is coming up next weekend.  Why? Because I will be there, teaching, and my classes still have space.

So, in a blatant act of shameless self-promotion, I am here to say:  COME TAKE A CLASS!

My class sizes are quite small right now, but the organizers have decided to go right ahead and run them anyway.  I love small classes, because I get more one-on-one time with each student, which is great for you, too. And the organizers have agreed to keep registration open right up to the start of class time, so you impulsive types can just show up in the morning and join in!

The classes I will be teaching next weekend are:

Friday, March 16, I will be offering an abridged version of my most popular workshop, Spinning Super Socks.  We will cover fibre selection, worsted-style spinning, spinning to a specific twist per inch, and self-striping socks.  The cost is a low $90 for registration, plus a measly $15 paid to me for materials.

Saturday, March 17, I will teach Simply Elegant Spindle Spinning.  Learn how to spin, or improve your spinning, on a suspended (drop) spindle.  Perfect for yarn lovers who are ready to take the next step, or for those of you who wheel spin and wish your wheel was more portable.  This class is relaxed and gentle, and a lot of fun. (And it will be taking place on St. Paddy's Day, so who knows what shenanigans may ensue!) Registration is $90, and materials are only $10.

Classes both days run 10-4, with a lunch break.

So, if you have some free time on your hands, or were considering taking a class, or really, really want to get your hands into some nice fibre, go to Fibres West's website and check out the details.  And if you don't want to take a class with me, there are several other fine classes with space available, too.  And vendors.  Did I mention that there will be vendors? 

So head on out to Abbotsford.  Take a class.  Shop.  Revel in the fibery goodness. Or just drop by and say hi.

(But, seriously, you should take my class. Really.)

F-Words

Today's post is brought to you by the letter F, as in What The F---?

The prolonged silence since my last post should suggest to you that I've been away, which I have.  I have spent 2 of the last 3 weeks in the US, teaching a Master Spinner Program class in Las Cruces, NM.  But that will not be the subject of today's post.  Today, I am going to get political.  If I step on your toes or offend your personal sensibilites, I apologise, but this is a Big Deal to me.

The first F-Word is Feminism.  Women's rights are under seige.

When the US Congress convened an all male panel to explore whether or not contraception should be covered, I was taken aback, but not really surprised.  President Obama had made changes to the health care act, requiring employers to provided insurance that includes covering the cost of contraception (aka birth control pills).  Religious groups objected on the grounds that their religious freedoms were being overridden by this act. And in the ever more Divided States of America, this was a perfect political opportunity. So, in an election year, what better opportunity to draw attention to our defence of American decency than a panel on the rights to control birth control.

                                           (Image stolen from democraticunderground.com)

The nonsense that has followed would seem ludicrous if not for the fact that there are men vying for the leadership of that great nation who are jumping on the bandwagon.  The media is attacking women who use contraception as "whore" and "sluts", and male commentators are showing their total ignorance of women's bodies and how they function by describing, in excruciatingly incorrect detail, the methods under question.  The misinformation and blatant hate speech that has flowed out of the American media lately has been apalling to those of us watching from the outside.  I cannot imagine how it feels to be an American woman right now.

Surely, 50 years after The Female Eunich and bra-burning, women should be treated as equals by the men in their government.  Given a say in their own health, reproductive and otherwise.  Or, at least, invited to the table and allowed to speak freely. 

Apparently not. 

Our second F-Word is Fibre.  Or Fiber, for those of you south of the 49th who are taking a stand.

You see, a group of fibre artists in the US, led by knitters Donna Druchunas and Annie Modesitt, are embarking on a campaign to deluge their representatives in Congress and the Senate with, well, female naughty bits.  They have formed a Ravelry group called Government Free V-JJ and are providing information to help knitters find patterns for uteruses and vaginas (there are a surprising number of them, too!).  They are helping knitters find the addresses for their government representatives, and some members have even offered to hand deliver loads of uteri.

            (This uterus was knit by designer MK Carroll and the link to her pattern on Knitty is below.)
The very idea of knitters rising up in revolt may seem ludicrous, but it is actually part of a long history of subversive messages appearing in textiles.  Stories have been woven into kilim rugs for centuries-including the modern and rather disturbing War Rugs.  The Bayeux tapestry is alleged to contain coded messages of rebellion. World War II prisoners of war embroidered "Fuck Hitler" in Morse Code around the edges of samplers. 

Never underestimate the power of a woman with knitting needles.

The final F-Word is Freedom.

In North America, it's pretty easy to assume that we are a free society.  But freedom comes with responsibility.  We have freedom of speech, but that does not mean we can say hateful, hurtful things without repercussions.  We have freedom of religion, but that does not mean that we may impose our beliefs on someone who does not share them.  We have freedom, but we must work to ensure that that freedom is equally available for everyone.  We are only free as long as we are prepared to stand up against what we know is wrong.

Like removing a woman's freedom to control her own reproductive health. Or to just be treated with dignity.

If you want to send a uterus, or just knit one in support, you can go to Government Free V-JJ on Ravelry and you can find free patterns at Knitty and The Anti-Craft.