Arts and Crafts 9 comments

By Dyana Herron

With this post we welcome Dyana Herron to the “Good Letters” blogging team.

Craft time was the second most exciting part of my childhood church’s summer bible school, topped only by what happened next: when we kids rushed outside to where Little Debbie snack cakes were spread across tables in the open-air fellowship area, stuffed the day’s materials into our mothers’ purses, then chased each other through the grassy area beside the graveyard until our parents, threatening violence, herded us towards the parking lot.

Besides that, though, craft time was the best. That was when we were able to take what we were learning about Jesus and put it into physical form; for instance, a bracelet with multi-colored beads that doubled as a witnessing tool.

The idea behind this piece of jewelry was that if, standing beside the playground swings, my non-churchgoing friend Amanda complimented my bracelet, then I could say, “Thank you, but it’s not just a bracelet. It tells the story of Christ—look, the red bead stands for his blood, shed for you. The white bead is his purity. The yellow bead stands for the streets of gold, which you’ll see in heaven if you accept him as your savior.” Naturally, she would immediately want to come to church with me.

Other crafts, though, were just what they seemed: a pencil holder embellished with macaroni, a picture frame of popsicle sticks painted gold. I still have one item I particularly prize. It is a coaster with a green felt bottom. Beneath its glass are three pictures—the first is a sticker of Jesus, wavy-haired and serene. That sticker is followed by another, heart-shaped and rainbow-colored. Beneath that is a cut photo of my chubby six-year old face. The coaster forever locks Jesus and me in a chain of love.

Recently I have been thinking a lot about these experiences, because a few weeks ago I realized that for a long time now I haven’t made anything. This isn’t to say I have not been involved in creative activities—I write poems, and essays, and very engaging emails.

But other than making dinner, I take no physical raw materials and turn them into another object of beauty and functionality.

It is, I think, a void in my life. And, as is always the first plan of action after discovering a void in my life, I am turning to books. For my last birthday, my boyfriend David gave me Handmade Nation: The Rise of DIY, Art, Craft, and Design, edited by Faythe Levine and Cortney Heimerl (look also for the feature-length documentary of the same name released just this month).

The collection showcases work from crafters across the country—fiber artists, bookbinders, glassblowers, potters, shoemakers, and more—as well as includes excerpts from interviews conducted with these artists about how, and more interestingly why, they craft.

The answers are as varied as their products. One embroiderer took up stitching as a way to relieve stress during a family crisis. A group of knitters in Houston tie their creations around stop signs and electric poles to create a surprising juxtaposition for passersby. A New York woman founded the “Church of Craft” in her home, hosting informal gatherings where friends could create objects together, while discussing how the act of creation enhanced their spiritual well-being.

The book explores the public perception surrounding craft, and how it has shifted over the past few decades. It tracks the opportunities that crafting magazines, shows, and websites (like the wildly popular etsy.com) have created for individuals and the crafting community as a whole. The most common theme in the narratives, however, is that craft provides power—the power to make what you like and perhaps can’t find elsewhere, the power to choose your own materials, the power to be more than what you are at your nine-to-five. And the power to realize an important part of your humanity—the capacity to make.

Honestly, I’m not sure if this is my motivation. Maybe it is, or maybe I want to engage myself in an activity that feels playful, or maybe I just want something to pass the time during my first Seattle winter. While you probably won’t see me hawking a line of cut leather belts or scented hand soap anytime soon, I have decided to make “making” a more prominent part of my life.

When the Urban Craft Uprising fair visits the Seattle Center next weekend, I’ll be there, admiring and supporting those who have already worked out what that means for them.

Although I doubt I’ll find anything as cool as my Jesus coaster.