The "C" Word

(Please note: As a cancer survivor myself, I am far too aware of an alternate, more common use of the phrase "the C-word" in that dreadful association. This blog in no way means to celebrate that virulent disease.)

Next month is the first celebration of "American Craft Week," an ambitious endeavor with the sole mission of raising awareness of craft and its makers across America. This celebration rings close to our hearts at Artful Home, since it is work in traditional craft media and techniques, such as ceramics, glass, fiber, metal, and wood, that have been part of the foundation of our business since we launched our website and catalog just over 10 years ago. We salute this occasion, and are helping sponsor it with a celebration of our own. Just last month I had a party with 65 artists, serving handmade food on the most beautiful plates, all created by Artful Home artists. What a glorious celebration it was!

As a lover and buyer of beautiful things, I find it both interesting and discouraging that arguments and discussions abound about the differences between art and craft, about the relevancy of craft in our modern world, and about the meanings of the words "artist," "maker," and "crafter." Two weeks ago I was speaking at a conference in Scotland, where this discussion was so lively that they organized a show and film called "The C-Word." While the Museum of Art and Design in New York removed the word "Craft" from its former name as if it was a stigma, other, bolder museums such as the San Francisco Museum of Craft and Design, the Portland Museum of Contemporary Crafts, and the Fuller Craft Museum outside Boston proudly use the name in their respective identities. My alma mater, formerly known as the California College of Arts and Crafts changed its name, too, removing "Craft" as if it was that same stigma. In my opinion, the issue that most needs attention is preserving, supporting, and encouraging the making by hand of original work, regardless of medium or name.

There is going to be an exciting, free 2-day conference, "Crafting A Nation" at the Smithsonian Museum of American Art in Washington, D.C. on October 8 and 9. I will be speaking there, and I hope some of you can make it. More info is at artfulhome.com/craftweek. If you are interested in local celebrations of American Craft Week close to your home, please visit americancraftweek.com and feel free to send me any pictures or accounts of celebrations you create.

Coming Full Circle

"You take your heart in your hands and try."
Lillian Elliott, quoted in American Craft, June/July 1994

When recently asked by a young woman if I would be willing to be her mentor, I found myself wondering if I could live up to the responsibilities. The bar for mentorship is set high in my mind, as one of the most influential people in my life was my mentor, the artist, Lillian Elliott.

Shortly after I arrived in Berkeley at the age of 19, I met Lillian when she taught a class at the UC Berkeley Extension. This class meant the world to me, as I had no money to pay for it and had convinced the kind souls at UC Extension to give me a scholarship so I could take this one class. I was attempting to find myself, having already dropped out of college and moved across the country on my own, away from everything I knew, and this class was one of the steps toward starting over again. Little did I know that with this class not only would I begin my explorations as a textile artist, but even more importantly expand my world view through the eyes and mind of Lillian.

Lillian was a mensch – a strong, impossible, gentle but demanding mensch who took me under her wing, introducing me to everything from Uzbekhistan textiles to the art of making sourdough bread. I was dazzled by the chaotic creative mess that was her home and studio, and challenged by her to think independently and as an individual. Ultimately, I was impressed to my very soul by her utmost belief in listening to your own heart and voice. “You take your heart in your hands and you try”, was Lillian’s explanation of the creative process – as simple as that. While she was always learning and teaching new techniques, technique was not what mattered to her at all. Soul was what mattered. Listening to your voice was what mattered. Seeing what came from your hands as a result of listening to your heart was the essence of the creative process. OK, and to be fair, there was always her exuberant love of materials!

I don’t practice art these days, and have even imposed a moratorium on my practice as a serial knitter, so mentorship for me is in the realm of business. Nonetheless, I find Lillian’s words running through my head in many situations, both personal and professional. The soul and driving force to create is as necessary to greatness in the workplace as it is in the studio. I’ll never know if Lillian was consciously passing on her worldview, but I took it in. And I hope I can pass on my beliefs to this young woman who is seeking guidance as well as to those with whom I work on a daily basis. It's about how you treat people in business, how you stand up for what you believe, and how you deliver your best self in your work. How? You take your heart in your hands and you try. Thank you, Lillian.