Value and the hand made Movement

Angelene Fay, Etsy seller and artisan, offers what I think is one of the best explanations I have read, of the value of hand made goods. Hand made goods are valuable, she says, because of the person involved in their creation and the love that contributes to their production. Love of mastering or seeking to master, each step required to create an object. Of the artistic satisfaction that is obtained by the creator in the act of creating. Of being so contented with the act that one is in a 'happy place' while working. The joy of doing something that one excels at, and of sharing that achievement with others.

Angelene Fay offers wonderful tutorials, relevant to the wire worker-beader-jewelery maker. They can be found at her Blog address linked above ... just click on her name!

The Orange Cardigan

The orange cardigan was the only thing I won in school. A local wool shop had arranged with the primary school I attended to have a story writing competition. The prize would be a bag of Patons Totem (I still like to use Totem.) The older kids at the school must have been involved. In New Zealand (where I went to school) primary school began with 'primers'; 'primer one', 'primer two' and so on. I was either in 'primer three' or 'primer four'. I was about 10 years old. Anyway, I digress. I had to write a story that advertised the value of pure wool, for school. So I wrote one.

Our house was full of stories and books, and lots of them told heroic tales of people who were mountaineers and sailors. Adventurous people. Real life heroes and heroines. So it was easy to think of a context that let me herald the wonderfulness of wool. Being a kid who never won, I also had no thought, let alone expectation, that this was more than another story writing task. I had had stories read out to classes when teachers wanted to demonstrate what it was they wanted us to do, but that's not the same as winning, that's more a bullying offence. Anyway, I wrote a dramatic thing about how someone had been caught out in snow, wind, hail, ice etc. on a mountain, and had just made it, thanks to his pure wool garb! Because pure wool breathes, and traps body heat so keeping us warm and so on. I shudder when I think, now, of those early mountaineers in, say, the Himalayas, who were clad in layers of wool, canvas, cotton and more wool. Manifestly inadequate. However from a 10 year old in a primary school way down in tiny New Zealand (a mountainous place itself) the theme was popular and it was the 1960s/1970s when we still didn't have all the wonders of man made fibre for safety gear in harsh climates. So I thought I was writing something that was factually accurate and I do recall feeling quite proud of that.

I thought no more about my story. Heck! This was me! I still did times tables on my fingers (with admirable speed and secrecy as I do it now, in my head) but still, on my fingers. I forgot about it so thoroughly that when a day came to find out the result of the competition, I had no idea what was going on. My class, and several others, were taken to the school hall to hear about ... I knew not what, having been day dreaming while our class room teacher explained what we were doing. I think I hoped we'd be shown another Disney cartoon movie, a thing that happened in the school hall and was absolutely delightful, much better fun that learning. We'd just seen Alice in Wonderland and I'd been enchanted by it.

We all shuffled in there, I with vague hope in my breast. We positioned ourselves variously according to whether we were teachers' favourites, or kids who attempted to hide from the teacher (me) or trouble makers, or people who encouraged trouble makers (me, sometimes.) As phrases I recognised as being mine were read out to the assembled school, I recall experiencing my first ever feeling of complete disorientation. My head actually went fuzzy! I recall wondering momentarily if I was in trouble. Then wondering if this meant I had to stand up in front of everyone, which I would hate and do almost anything to get out of. At which point, of course, I heard my name and had to actually do it, with my head still buzzing and confused. I had won a bag of Patons Totem, I could choose the colour, and my mum would knit me something with it.

She knitted me an orange cardigan. I'm not sure why I picked orange, because it makes me look like a sick cat. But I do love the colour, its spiciness and heat. Mixed up with reds and pinks, or blues and turquoise. Perhaps that was why I picked it, perhaps I loved it then too. I went on wearing my cardigan until it was far too little for me, and I wish I had it still (that would make it about 35 years old!), or at least a picture of it but, alas, it is no more. I'm still attracted to orange things,although they never get to sit near my face, because they really don't suit me.

It's funny how, as we get older, memories from our childhood seem clearer, more numerous. I take them as a gift, like a perfume recalled from the past and enjoyed. And so the orange cardigan stands in my memory, a pleasant perfume, a speck of my life that is nice to have, and a long lasting liking for all things orange, and for Patons Totem, pure wool. Excellent for the manufacture of clothing to be worn in cold climates...

Making it myself; viable, ethical, sustainable living:

I hesitate to introduce a serious note to a place that's intended to be relaxing, quiet, peaceful and above all, pleasurable to visit. But one of my strongest characteristics is an enduring concern with the political side of life. I believe that politics underpins every aspect of our lives, from the moment we get up in the morning, to the moment we go to sleep at night. In the night, it affects where and how we sleep, with what comfort and for how long. I don't want to spoil the light hearted atmosphere of the Lollyshop with too much of my political interest. But I do want to acknowledge that it exists, and now and again, admit that it influences what I am doing when I make things and show them on my blog.

When I was a young mum, making things for the household, from baked goods to clothing, to bedding and other soft furnishing, was cost effective. We could buy those things, if we wanted to. But the cheaper stuff, the affordable stuff, was not as good in quality as things we made ourselves.

At the time, Indonesia was over a decade into the process of becoming one of the first world's cheap goods factories. In the 1960s, with help from the West, General Suharto flattened and emptied self-sustaining villages and misplaced thousands and thousands of people. He killed over a million people who disagreed with his actions. He also took massive loans from the World Bank. To get the loans, he agreed to give western companies access to Indonesian workers, property and resources at low prices. Because of this, those companies could produce the things we love to consume, at minimal cost, with minimal probability of the resulting human rights abuses being seen by consumers in places like Australia.

Some people think that such workers are better off than they used to be, because they have more dollars than they used to have. We westerners tend to measure well-being in terms of dollars. But before the western economic machine came to their countries, those workers had the things they needed, and needed no money. Now, they not only have little that they need for a decent quality of life, they will never have enough to buy the things they are slaving to produce. On that measure, a few dollars each week has not made these workers more wealthy. I think that they really are a slave labour force, co-opted by wealthy countries (like ours) because without them we won't be able to afford all the 'stuff' we think we should have.

These days, we are more aware of the issue of 'sweat shop' labour. It happens in Australia, we know that it happens all over SE Asia and in Africa. That's a particular problem for the Lollyshop. I love my chocolate. But much Cocoa for chocolate has been farmed by slave labourers in Africa. Worse, those workers are sometimes children! What to do? There's only one solution for me. I can locate child-labour free chocolate if I choose to. In general, I can avoid using brands that are a product of sweatshop labour. And, I can return to making it myself.

Making it myself is, once again, quite cost effective. When I wear something that I made, or use something I made, or eat something I made from scratch, I know that at least at some point in the chain of production, I have interfered with the plundering of resources and labour from other countries. That's another satisfying result of having made an effort to produce the things that I and my family need and like.

Wire wrapping and Jewelery making

I began reading about wire-wrapping last year, the same time as I began making my own ear wires. I found heaps of useful information on the Net. Some generous artisans publish tutorials about wire wrapping, and they're fabulous. If there's one thing they each do, it would be encouraging the would-be wire-wrapper to practice, practice, practice. SIGH. I shrink from practice!

So I practiced. And was very bad at wire wrapping. But I'm the kind of student who examines material for ages, and then suddenly 'gets' it. Yesterday I was fiddling with some wire ... and when I had done fiddling I found I had fiddled together a very respectable, faceted cloudy quartz ring. I don't have photos of it yet, but I'm really pleased that all the information has finally begun to work in my head! I'm looking forward to incorporating this new skill into jewelery making!