One of my siblings sent this to me after a really hard day.
He said it was helping him in his darker moments.
There I was lying in the dark, curled up in my bed with my phone, tears streaming down my face, watching it over and over and over again, taking slow and steady breaths.
I’m posting it here in case you can’t sleep.
CHANGE THE OIL IN THE CAR, AND PUT UP SHELVES.
WE CAN DO ANY GODDAMN THING WE WANT!
THAT’S WHY WE’RE FEMME SHARKS!
FEMME IS NOT THE SAME THING AS BEING OUR MOMS
FEMMES ARE BEAUTIFUL AND STRONG WHEN WE BOTTOM
AND WE’RE HOT AS HELL WHEN WE TOP.
OUR BOTTOMING AND TOPPING ARE BOTH GIFTS TO BE MET
WHEN WE TAKE OUR LOVERS’ FISTS ALL THE WAY INSIDE,
ASK FOR WHAT WE WANT,
BE THE BEST DIRTY GIRL
OR MAKE OUR LOVERS SLIP,
WE’RE A FUCKING MIRACLE.
IN THE WORDS OF JILL SCOTT, “YOU GOTTA DO RIGHT BY ME,
IT’S MANDATORY, BABY."
My therapist told me that my stitching projects are the perfect activity for my anxious hands, I have always found craftiness cathartic. Anxious hands are busy hands, creative hands. Painting, playing instruments, origami, making friendship bracelets, gluing rhinestones onto things in an effort to bedazzle the shit out of your universe… making something out of that kinetic energy is powerful.
I think of my grandmother, an immigrant with 6 children before disposable diapers and fucking washing machines, and the beautiful tapestries she managed to create with her hands in the hours everyone else was sleeping. She had no time, no self, no help; she was a work horse. And still her hands created, she needed to create.
I look at her pieces, landscapes and houses and flowers stitched impeccably, and think about the background noise of her life in those days as she managed to make something so delicate. It’s a beautiful coping mechanism.
The notion that “domestic crafting” has always been seen as a “hobby” and not a legitimate form of fine art (especially in a historical context) is disgusting and speaks to the value our culture
placed places on women’s work.
(Click through to see this photo-set in high res, this installation is stunning.)
ASHLEY BLALOCK’S CROCHET INSTALLATIONS
I cannot stop looking at Ashley Blalock fiber work. Her installation: Keeping Up Appearances features some brilliant red 15-Foot Tall Crochet work that ebbs in and out of the gallery corners. Though the work itself is delicate, the building of layers in Blalocks work convey strength…the same characteristics of webs - delicate yet strong.
That convention itself seems appropriate when learning that Blalocks means her crochet art to explore the female domestic sphere and “themes of discomfort and coping mechanisms to provide solace from the stress and trauma of everyday life”.
I complain all the time about Winter.
Too cold, too hard, too long. Relentless.
I must admit though, I have respect for the way Winter imposes itself upon you when it wants to make a point. If the snow and ice and sleet and freeze want to reign, they do. Quietly and softly. Majestically.
I don’t fight it. My car is under an inch thick sheet of ice, the roads are impassable, the temperature ungodly. I’m not going anywhere.
It’s warm inside.