I might have a problem

Recently I told my son my weaving has become a bit of an obsession. I shared with him that the creation of the baskets or rugs seems to calm me somehow and I miss the act of creating on days when I haven’t made time to work on them. I confessed that I would rather be weaving than doing many of the things I’m “supposed” to be doing. He answered, “Mom, I think that’s the definition of addiction!”

He might be right: I might be addicted to weaving. I had been pondering why this might be when I found some ideas in an unusual place: a book by Nick Offerman called Where the Deer and the Antelope Play.

Connections and clarification where you least expect it

My daughter recommended the book to me. I knew of Nick Offerman only through his role on “Parks and Rec” as Ron Swanson. An acclaimed actor, he is also an accomplished woodworker. And he and Amy Poeler (also of “Parks and Rec” fame) hosted three seasons of a “crafting competition” show called “Making It.”

If I were writing a book report for Mr. Lewis (my junior high English teacher) about the book, it would start something like this: “In Where the Deer and the Antelope Play, Nick Offerman explores humans’ relationship with nature, both as recreation and agrarian pursuits, while pointing out the importance of nuance and collaboration in our current society.” Based on that opening sentence, you wouldn’t expect much about making things in the book. At the author’s admission the book is a meander through a wide range of topics. Mr. Offerman is quite devoted to the importance of people doing what he calls “good work.” By that, he is referring to work that produces something tangible and useful. So this theme pops up on several occasions. Here is a condensation of Mr. Offerman’s thoughts as well as my own reflections.

Some benefits of good work

It is tactile

Many of today’s “products” don’t exist in a physical sense. For example, my husband’s work as a lawyer or my work as a teacher. These activities require creative thinking and hard work, but there is rarely something physical to show for our efforts. It is hard to point to a lesson plan and proudly say “I made that!” even though I DID make it. There is a different sense of satisfaction that comes from being able to SEE and hold the fruits of your labor. It’s not that the other accomplishments aren’t important – they are. But there is a different feeling, a different emotional attachment, that comes when working with the physical world. Many former students tell me they still have the work they created in my art class. I doubt they’d say the same thing to their Math or English teachers.

It encourages problem solving

The creative process is a series of different problems that need different solutions. Creating tickles our brain. It gives us opportunities to wonder, explore and try out new things. Sometimes these are new materials. Or sometimes new techniques. All of these activities are good for the brain and therefore good for us.

It provides a means of meditation

But along with giving challenges, creating something with our hands often gives us a chance to be meditative. Mr. Offerman talks about this phenomenon when he is working in the woodshop and when he is helping a farmer build a stone wall. Often when I am weaving I can let my mind either wander or clear out. “Mindless” has a negative connotation, but parts of the weaving process don’t require my full attention. That is when my mind seems released, and I am healthier for it.

It connects you to others

Mr. Offerman discusses how woodworking connects him to other generations of woodworkers, directly or indirectly. Although I have had little contact with other weavers, I find that when I look at baskets or other woven items I think about the hands that created the item. Who was that person? How did they do that? I do feel a kinship even though I have not spoken to the creator of the work. There is something grounding about realizing I am employing skills that thousands before me for thousands of years have used.

Some “good works” I’ve just finished

I “harvested” 30 FEET of plastic! It wasn’t really strong enough to use for the coiling of a basket. I tried bunching it to create the core, but it was too thin and was very hard to work with. Years ago, I had created a rope out of twisting yarn together. I wondered if I could do the same with Saran. (An example of problem solving that comes from creating something.)

A quick internet search turned up several videos showing how to coil rope. None of them used Saran, but I’m used to applying techniques from a more traditional material to my plastics. Now 30 feet of Saran that would have ended up in a landfill (if lucky) or in the ocean or stuck in a tree (more likely), was turned into about 11 feet of rope. The rope became the core for a small basket. I used only greens and browns for the coil, since it was my “forest basket.”