ACTION 11 – Learning Through Mapping

So I am finally moved into the studio on campus. Just in time for the semester to come to a close. This week was marked by several mapping activities, I think as a way of trying to make sense of the semester. Making sure I knew what I had done when I had done it, and where I want to go with it when we jump into next semester.

Research framework revisions

https://miro.com/app/board/o9J_lctps8Y=/

Mapping time

It finally happened! I started to weave! For a week now I have been coming in and laying down colour. Each sitting is usually one colour or pattern block. I also confirmed this week that I have definitely over retted the flax. So to grieve my mistake I started taking the stems and embedding them into the pattern. I am not sure what will happen, they will get crunched and crushed, and the chafe will flake away, I may be left with gaping holes in my cloth. Or perhaps the fibres will reveal themselves. Short and imperfectly processed. I will just have to wait and see. It felt good to use what I had harvested, and who knows something beautiful might still be possible with the crumbly mess I have made. If all else fails I can always return the stocks to the garden, let them decompose into soil, and start over again in the spring. I haven’t worked with data much this semester, not using the usual qualitative methods, but these passes of weft through the loom feel like a kind of data, an accumulation, a thought, a podcast, a conversation with my mom. The pattern emerges, then completes itself, telling me it is time to get up, to move around, to go do something else for a while. I am mesmerized by the cloth. It feels like it has the potential to hold so much meaning. I am excited to see how my mind is shaped by the act of weaving.

Oh yeah, and it broke down again. The elastics holding the pedals to the sheds disintegrated, so I played around with the tie-ups until I arrived at this solution, hitching a few pieces of rope to the posts, half over and half under seemed to keep it balanced while treadling.

Acts of Making

I have been rattling around with this idea since earlier in the semester, that as designers our acts can be qualified as replicating colonial oppressions or working to dismantle and decolonize. I also had the opportunity to do one more peer engagement, and like Garima, I wanted to use the time to engage the class, to help me sort through my thoughts. But before subject my classmates to an activity, I needed to work through the activity for myself to see if it was worth pursuing.

I started by listing every act of making I had employed during the actions this semester. I decided to set them on a continuum to explore my initial response to the definitions of making I had read earlier in the semester. I came up with a list of potential continuums to map looking up the antonyms to words online, I realized I was mapping language. After a conversation with Garima, I decided to split up two of the pairs and use violence and nurturing as the poles. Then I plotted my acts onto the map. Something happened when I did this. I realized I had made the assumption that violent acts of making were inherently harmful. It was only when I placed things on the map that I realized that transformation is usually the result of a violent act: boiling, crushing, cutting, but these transformations through violence did not feel harmful. I had the opposite realization when I plotted fixing on the nurturing side of the spectrum. Fixing something or someone takes away their autonomy, it is not inherently helpful. Likewise, I had assumed maintenance was a positive act, but it is devastatingly harmful if you are maintaining a system of oppression. When I wrote my list of acts, ‘do nothing’ was the last one I wrote. When I placed it on the spectrum I put it exactly at the neutral point between violent and nurturing. By now I had also started to think about adding a second axis of positive/negative outcomes. I realized that doing nothing could be placed in any of the four quadrants and that it would have a different impact depending on the context. Doing nothing could be healing and positive in the sense that to maintain our health, there are times where we need to unplug, relax, unwind, and do so without judgement. There should be days where we don’t put on pants. But also, standing by and doing nothing while witnessing acts of oppression is not okay. There are days where we should put on our pants and our masks, and be a part of enacting change, in whatever form that may take.

Group mapping as my peer review

I ran the exercise as a group engagement the following day. With a few tweaks. I kept nurturing and violent acts of making, but switched out the north/south poles, I originally was going to use positive and negative outcomes, but on my walk to school, I decided that futuring and defuturing were more appropriate. I learned quite a lot from the engagement. Firstly that there were no right or wrong answers, that acts could occupy various or multiple spaces on the map depending on their context. Also, it was important to be specific about whether it was a futuring/defuturing act or outcome, and that it was important to ask to whom was the act violent/nurturing. From the designer’s perspective the act of carving could be soothing and nurturing, from the wood’s point of view it might not be. I am not sure where this map leaves me, but I feel like I am more at ease with the results than I was when I deliberately tried to enact in a decolonial way. What does decolonize design even mean. I think I began to realize the acts themselves were not inherently futuring or defuturing, but that the context in which they were enacted, and to whom they were enacted upon and by whom, with this additional information it may be possible to determine if an act will lead to a colonizing or decolonizing outcome.

https://miro.com/app/board/o9J_lezDtpI=

Participating in classmates mapping projects

I think quite a few of use were venturing into mapping and visualizations. Here are the contributions to mapping I made as requested by my peers. I really enjoyed the bottom one in yellow marker, Garima asked us to map a moment of joy. This was from the big snowfall last January, I had been working like mad to pull together a portfolio submission for the MDes program, I think it was due the next day. Bill decided I needed a break to have dinner, so he coaxed me out of the house. As soon as my feet hit the snow I turned into a giddy monster. I started running and skating down commercial drive, sliding on the fresh snow. I got so excited that I lost Bill, and then realized I was lost, I couldn’t remember where we were going, didn’t have my phone on me, and was completely disoriented. It was pretty weird getting so lost within 5 blocks of my home, after about 20 min of running back and forth up and down the street Bill and I were reunited, he got me fed, and I made the submission deadline.

My community map

So this one goes back to some of what I did, but maybe didn’t show in action 4, I was thinking about it for the video sketches, but didn’t do it, and it came up for me again when I was out walking for action 7. I have been going for walks around the neighbourhood, harvesting materials, looking at trees, mushrooms and mosses. I’ve been searching for something. This is the action that feels incomplete still to me. I have been looking for the invisible beings that inhabit certain places. You might call them gnomes, or faeries, or spirits, or beings, or invisible people. I don’t really know what they are called, but there are places I’ve been where I am certain a being must exist. I felt compelled to attempt to map out where they might be. I am not fully satisfied with the result. The scale was wrong, and I think it’s the wrong kind of map. I’m glad I did it, but I think I need to explore other modalities of mapping for these invisible beings to emerge.

I think this action requires more field work. I need to be in a place, sketching, listening. I am pretty sure the air smells differently in places invisible beings inhabit. I am not certain that paper is the right medium either, perhaps cloth or audio recordings would work better. What senses do you have to employ to detect what you cannot see?

Mapping though stitches

My explorations with embroidery started a few weeks back when I started repairing the blanket my granny made for me. It was a special item, she made it from my gramps old trousers, and had embroidered vines and leaves and flowers on it. It was the last one she made, and you could tell her skills were deteriorating, the stitches became simpler in sections the embellishments less, but she made it for me when I moved away to go to university for my bachelor degree, and it is one of my most valued possessions. Over the years some of the stitches have come loose. The moths have also taken a liking to it, and eaten away at it, leaving blotchy holes. So it is a piece I could spend a lot of time repairing. But I wanted to be able to replicate some of the more detailed areas my granny had done when her eyes and hands were more capable. So I started a little swatch, a map of the semester, a sample of different kinds of stitches and effects. Some stitches were improvised, some were taken from a book granny gave me long ago when she stopped embroidering. Before this semester I thought of myself as a pretty competent knitter and crocheter. This was something I shared with my Oma, she never taught me, but exposed me to it, I think I started in 2005 crocheting a hat, then knitting a sweater while commuting to school. This semester l dove into embroidery and weaving, which connected me to the skills of my Granny and my Great Aunt Norma. It’s not a map, map, but I like to think of it as a living map, the three matriarchs of my family have each passed me down a skill, and my work in these mediums can be traced back to these three women.

My classmates explorations with embroidery

A few of us got together this week to hang out over zoom and embroider together. This was one of my favourite moments of the semester. I had been trying to teach myself until this point using a book my granny had gave me. Which was really useful, but sitting there sharing techniques with each other and just talking was a far more engaging way to learn. I felt more confident with what I was doing, and inspired by the work being done by the rest of the group. After spending so much time interrogating acts of making, I am starting to think the acts themselves aren’t inherently anything, but that the context in which they are enacted is what embeds them with meaning and attributes. We were piercing, and cutting, and splitting, and talking, and bonding, and sharing, and learning, and we were doing it together.

I also went back through the blogs of my classmates and realized that embroidery/stitching has come up a lot this semester. Here are some samples of the work my classmates have produced. I am not exactly sure why I felt compelled to share them, except that I have an inclination that there is something meaningful happening, and I want to acknowledge it, and also maybe explore it deeper. Perhaps next semester I will take some to sit and stitch and have some deeper conversations with my peers. Below are 2 photos of Meghna’s work with typography, 2 of Angela’s learning leaves and making for Eve, Charles’s explorations of symbols and language, Kimia’s act of puncturing linguistic erasure, Garima’s stitches of healing, and 2 of Elhams acts of translation. There is a theme emerging for me – stitches and mark making as acts of language, visibility, and communication.

Mapping identity

One more act of mapping this week. In the winter I volunteer as a mentor with a program called CHILL, it is a board sport program for underprivileged youth. This year they set up an Equity training program for staff and volunteers. As part of the workshop we mapped our identities to share with the group. I have spent a lot of time thinking about my positionally this semester. It felt apt that I should end the semester with this kind of exercise. I appreciated the care with which the session was facilitated, and that we went from mapping, to sharing experiences with each other, to practical ways to address inequities in real situation on the mountain, in a space that is very white, male dominated, and wealthy. It made me reflect on why I volunteer in the first place, and I think its because I have gotten so much personally from board-sports. It’s the centre of my mental health, it built my confidence, I learned how to teach, engage, facilitate and coach through this sport. Being on the mountain kept me centred during the toughest periods of my life, and taught me how to work through fear. It has also been a source of income, and helped me pay for university. It’s also fun, joyful and exhilerating. By volunteering I am hoping that those gifts can be passed along to more than just the wealthiest kids.

ACTION 10 – Pulling Through

Pulling It Together

Ever feel like it’s all getting to be too much? This was a grind of a week. I tried to pull it all back together by going through and trying to organize all the stuff around my desk, deciding what should go to the school studio and what needed to find a place at home… Nomi clearly was unimpressed. Bill was pretty skeptical: “how long are you going to leave it like this?” Sometimes you gotta make a mess to get organized. Or at least that is what I tell myself. Apologies to those of you who have organization figured out and are horrified by my process. Please cover your eyes.

Threading the Heddles

I was hoping to have the loom ready to go by the end of last week, but just preparing the warp, and attaching it to the back beam took up all of last week. It worked out well though because I was able to take a bit more time thinking about what pattern I would use going through the heddles. I went through the reference books and found some really beautiful options, but decided on a simple twill pattern, which basically means over two under two. I think that’s the pattern they use to make jeans. The Dorset loom is a direct tie-up (don’t worry if this doesn’t make sense) so that meant simply going 4,3,2,1, 4,3,2,1, 4,3,2,1, etc. I had started working with the number 12 when I was making the warp, so the pattern of four was easily divisible into the pattern. I have never been particularly good at counting or match, I get distracted easily, and always write the numbers in the wrong order, but I am good at patterns, proportions and fractions. The spatial part of math. The patterns made sense, even if I could barely remember what Aunt Norma had shown us, it felt really natural to move from intension into the framework offered up by the floor loom. It also made me think of playing the piano: 4,3,2,1 4,3,2,1 4,3,2,1. I could hear the arpeggio in my head as I pulled the threads through.

One of the other pleasures of this task was that my hands were busy, but my ears, voice and mind were available for engagement. Over the week I spent approx. 20 hrs. listening to podcasts, and chatted with my mom over video calls. The phone rested on the top of the loom with the camera pointing down at my hands as I worked, and the screen facing up so I could see my mom on the other end of the call. Our longest conversation was 4 hours long. I have a feeling that these kinds of conversations will be a part of my work moving forward. I also spent some time working at the Modes of Production garden in North China Creek Park harvesting nettles. I am hoping to learn how to turn the nettle into fibres I can work with in addition to the flax fibres, which I realized this week I have over retted. I will try to salvage what I can, but it looks like I have to wait until next summer before I can harvest the flax. It’s a pretty big disappointment. I was hoping I would get to making some cloth with the linen this semester. I have been thinking a lot about time scales the past few months. Especially in terms of learning and unlearning colonial ways of being. Industry drives us as designers to be working on quarterly times scales, the school has us working on a semester system of time, but the flax gets harvested in the summer. It’s on a yearly scale. So with this failure, I will have to wait, and adjust my expectations and framing of time to match the seasons of the plant. It isn’t that bad to wait. I can work on weaving, dyeing, harvesting and processing other fibres, planting and growing, composting. There is something available and in season right now, and plenty to learn.

Slaying the Reed

The next step was pulling the threads through the reed. I had some math problems here, I was trying to figure out how dense I wanted the cloth to be, and how wide I wanted the cloth to be. It was all somewhat arbitrary because I skipped the first step Aunt Norma had drilled into my mom and I when we attended her weaving boot camp. Dear Aunt Norma, if you are reading this, I apologize. You taught us how to measure our materials, to record our threads per inch, and weigh our materials so we could calculate how long to make our warps and how to use our materials as efficiently as possible. I skipped that step. I got excited. I wanted to see how much I could remember, so I just went for it. The table legs I made my warp on determined the length of my cloth, and I figured if I was using a 12 dent reed, I could do two threads per dent, getting 24 threads per inch. With shrinkage, I figured I’d get a cloth that would be about 6 inches wide, and that I could use the cloth to make nice little fanny packs and pouches that were around 5.5×8 inches. While I worked I regretted this, because I realized it would have been more efficient to make a wider cloth. Fortunately this all worked out, because I counted wrong at some point and I actually had 312 threads instead of 156. So I ended up with 13 inches sleyed through the reed, which would shrink down to 11-12 inches. Maybe I’ll have to make side bags instead of fanny packs… I probably should have done a better job planning. Next time Aunt Norma! That being said, with every mistake I make – and I make at least one mistake on pretty much every step – I am learning how to recover and adapt, and what the meaning is behind each step. With each mistake, I begin to understand the loom better. We are getting to know each other better me and the Dorset loom, and I am also getting to know my cloth really well, every step requires a decision, and every decision starts to shape the outcome of the cloth. There are so many variables and opportunities, that I can see a lifetime of exploration stretch out before me. I think Aunt Norma will be proud that she passed her craft down to me.

Tying On

I was really excited to do this part because tying on means you have dressed the loom. The warp is on and you are one step away from actually weaving. My mom wasn’t kidding, weaving is the 10th or 11th step of making cloth. Not to mention the steps of harvesting fibre, all the steps to process and spin the fibre into thread, and all the steps that go into dying a fibre. It blows my mind that you can buy a sweater for $20 at the mall. It doesn’t quite add up, does it? Tying up is a pretty important step, it doesn’t take very long to do 20 min for a beginner like myself, if you do it well you will have good even tension throughout your cloth, if you do it poorly it will show up in the final product, or you will try to compensate in how you through your weft. So I went home and went to bed. It’s a good thing I did it was late that night, but after I finished the tie-up I discovered a mistake in how I sleyed the reed, two threads were crossed, so they sheds wouldn’t open, so I had to undo it and retie it again, that took more like 40 min to fix, so I was happy that I started fresh after a good nights sleep. Good thing too, because – spoiler alert! – I found one more mistake…

Taking Out the Lease Sticks

So finally after 3 weeks of preparing, and 3 weeks of mistakes, I am ready to take out the lease sticks, to begin throwing the weft, and to become a weaver. Finally!! So I grab some scrap yarn and start weaving a plain cloth pattern, 1 over 1, and that’s when I spot it. Another mistake. In around the middle of the cloth. For two dents in a row, I put only one thread per dent. and you can see the effect in the cloth, I had originally planned to have some spaced single and some spaced double, but that was before I realized my cloth was going to be 12 inches wide. I didn’t want it to get any wider. I also wanted the colours of the warp to come forward. You can see in the photos, that where I made the error, the black weft was coming forward more. On that third tie-up, I decided to only re-tie half. Bill was waiting for me at home, and friends were dropping by with a surprise, so I had to rush. The surprise was freshly harvested chanterelle mushrooms!!!!! I have no regrets, but now the left side is tighter than the right side, and I won’t know until I remove the cloth from the loom what effect that will have. This left me thinking about how every action leaves a mark, visible or invisible, the twists and tensions have an effect. It makes me think about people, how we interact with one another. I wonder how many marks I have made, and what marks people left on me that are still reverberating.

Can you see the error? Two little threads misspaced. Part of me wishes I just left it. The other part of me is glad I went back for the correction. On the next project, I definitely want to explore different spacings in the dents, I really like how it changes the emphasis from warp to weft.