action 10: love letters / breakup letters

One of the research methods that was introduced to us in our research seminar course is called “The Love Letter and the Breakup Letter.” The idea is that the exercise of writing such a letter to an object lends itself to unique insight about one’s relationship with the letter’s subject — that it can inform the reader of an emotional and complex set of information about that object. It holds the potential to reveal how such objects connect with the human world (and humans themselves) even if it is inanimate, or man-made.

This concept really compelled me — the action of sitting down to write down how you feel about an object or a project, being honest in its strengths and its flaws. I wanted to do it. I thought about bringing in friends, to ask them to write such a letter to an object in their life, one of love or one saying goodbye. Instead, I decided to use this opportunity to reflect on the semester. I needed to confront my feelings about these exercises, as trying as they were at times.

As there have been nine actions that have preceded this point, nine letters were written.

Next I folded them as carefully and deliberately as they were written, and sealed them as I do all of my written letters — with a wax seal and stamp gifted to me by my mother nearly ten years ago. I used red wax for love, black for break up, and gold for somewhere in between I suppose.

Taking the time to do this was very much deliberate. These actions informed me and affected my life these past few months. I owe them respect and reflection.

Now they’re here, scanned, immortalized on the screen, and inked on paper, a part of both my virtual and physical studio. I hope to take these lessons forward, I certainly saw the connections between actions that meant more to me than others. Actions where I ended with a physical object and actions where I tried something new, gave me more satisfaction and confidence. In this I know how to anchor my actions moving forward, and for that I am grateful.

action 9: tool belt

Throughout this semester I have felt torn. The nature of this class and exposure to campus and peers has indeed inspired me to make, but I have mostly felt motivated to make things for myself and for my household. This distracted me constantly. I made lists of things to make after the semester, hoping that compartmentilization would be my friend.

Shelving unit for kitchen, darn all socks, make oven mitt, turn a rolling pin, carve ceramics tools, build a better loom, sewing projects that have piled high, learn how to build chairs, build a stool for ceramics wheel, repair bat system, convert electric kiln to soda, search for lathe tools… the list goes on and on.

I didn’t think it was wise to spend time on these when I had school and work to prioritize. But it kept bothering me. I am driven to make things that are functional in nature. Experimenting without a clear goal in mind was not working for my creative juices, and so I listened to myself.

I started a new part time job this month, helping out a women in Kitsilano that owns and rents out seven properties, she sent out a call for a ‘garden helper’ and I answered. It has been clear to me for a while, but now evidently so, that I needed a tool belt. One that I could modify for the tasks of the day, whether it be gardening, ceramics, woodworking, foraging, etc. I built the belt from supplies at a leather shop in town, and got started with the attachments.

My household has inherited a sewing machine from the 60s this winter, one that I did not know needed maintenance. My hard and fast instincts to throw these ideas into action were foiled by this machine that kept screaming at me to get it serviced.

A borrowed machine and several trials and errors with thread tension, I’m happy with the result.

The canvas I used in this project is a large swath I bought over a year ago at a recycled fabric sale. I bought it with the intention of dying it and making an apron for my partner. That plan never came to fruition… but instead that same fabric served the role of drop cloth many times, it was the fabric I used to dry my cedar paper, it was the swatches I dyed for action four, it covers boards I use for wedging clay, and there is still so much more to spare.

I try to give thanks to this seemly endless bolt of cloth by doing right by it — by making things that matter to me, for a reason, and appreciating where they came from.

action 8: methods of self care

In a time filled with so much uncertainty, restrictions, and increasing amounts of rain, I have been reminded of a zine from years past. It was very small production, and the creator’s website is now gone, but the sentiment is snug in my memories. It was about promoting methods of self care. It included examples of what works for others and sought to encourage all of us to listen to ourselves and to take care of ourselves.

I wanted to bring this back into my practice. Taking care is often easier said than done. So I reached out to the class, got a few responses, but will continue adding to this document.

One method I remember so clearly that I saw on the original zine was to drink a glass of ice water.

To this day, if I feel myself getting stressed, worked up, or tired, I’ll fix myself a tall glass of ice cubes and water, and feel the worries wash away for a while. It’s possibly not the best long term solution, and I’m not suggesting that it’s one size fits all, but it works — try it.

I wanted to make this fast, I didn’t want to overthink it. Though I did end up spending more time than I anticipated scanning sketches and notes to include on my page. I started converting images of my handwriting and sketches into vector form. Digitizing my work is new to me, but I look forward to doing more of it. The computer registers what it sees, and interprets it uniquely. It doesn’t quite look the same, but it brings smooth edges and empty spaces where they weren’t before. It took ink from my pen and morphed it into pixels. I’m just used to doing things the other way around.

I do consider this a living document, please send me more if you feel so inclined and I will update the document.

cclay@ecuad.ca

And thank you to all contributors and collaborators 🙂

action 7: the loom

Here, I explored self-sufficency through the action of building my own loom and then weaving.

Jumping off of that last action, I decided to explore another area of interest I have always wanted to understand — weaving. I’d read that a simple lap loom was very simple to put together, so I went to the wood shop and made quick work of it.

Without spending too much time researching weaving methods, I jumped in. I used a tapestry weaving guide I have access to for a little guidance, and found myself attracted to freestyle methods of weaving. I went to the yarn store and wished I had enough time to dye some myself, but instead settled for three spools of 100% wool yarn. I picked colors that reminded me of warmth, and went home, shuttle-less, but ready and willing to get started.

This quickly showed me the value of planning a textile, as I managed to literally weave myself into a box. How would I fill it in? The home-made shuttle I had was great, but not narrow enough for this pickle I’d put myself in. The puzzler in me felt this as a challenge. I had a blank page to fill in with whatever I pleased. I thought about free weaving and sought to bring roundness and fluidity to the sharp lines of warp in front of me.

Knowing now that weaving doesn’t need to be this arduous or taxing, I have tried to enjoy the obstacles I’ve given myself in this project. I’ve spent countless hours this week unknotting yarn, poking short threads through tight weaves with a chopstick, and reminding myself to have better posture to relieve my back aches.

There are many improvements I would make to this loom design, and next time I probably will. But it’s sometimes nice to do something that is tedious and difficult. I’ve come to have a relationship with this woven piece, wishing I could high-five each section as I complete it as if we were working together to fill in the gaps.