Knitting
Every once in a while something new enters my life and I know, instantly, that it will belong there forever. It feels almost a part of my DNA. Now, some things, like drawing, I've been doing for as long as I can remember. Some things, like painting (!), never really click despite persistent attempts. Then there are a few things that just sort of seem to show up by chance and completely change my self-perception despite being relatively simple activities or interests.
The first of these was, I would say, anime. I can remember being attracted to it from an early age, but as the only examples of it I could find on TV were Sailor Moon and I felt embarrassed to be caught watching a "girl's show," I never really allowed myself to get into it. But as soon as anime started airing nightly on Cartoon Network I stayed up late to see it, usually falling asleep in front of the TV in my bedroom and having to tape the shows I really wanted to see (FLCL was the first). I believe I was about 12 or 13 when this was happening, and it corresponded with a lot of other complexes of adolescence that I don't have the time or desire to get into right now, but it's safe to say it had a very big impact on the person I found myself becoming at that age and continue to become to this day.
The second of these was Dance Dance Revolution. If anime shaped the person developing inside my head, DDR convinced that person he had something to offer to the outside world. I started playing basically to lose weight and get in shape, and I still have this simple pastime to thank for my fantastic legs. As I got better and better, though, somehow the "popular kids" in my small high school caught wind of my particular talent and seemed actually rather impressed. If this sounds like mockery or spectacle, I will point out that our popular crowd was actually a pretty nice group of people that already seemed to hold me in moderate esteem. For some reason or another, though, this new talent made me something special, or at least made me feel special. And confident. Of course I can't say I have a simple or always positive relationship with the "performer" side of me, but it's definitely there and it got me through what could have been very bad years.
The third of these was Contra Dancing. Again, my relationship with this activity is far from simple. I love the thrill of dancing, and I love the excitement of meeting new people and feeling the connection of constant touch. I love the sense of community I feel there, and the sense that I could be part of a family. At the same time, though, I can't help but feel reminded on occasion that I'm not part of a family. In any case, this is a reflection of importance and not consistency, so I'll just let it stand that the feelings I have while dancing reinforce how I feel about where I fit into the world.
The fourth of these was Fairy Tales. While doing research for an art project a few years ago, I stumbled upon a story I had never heard before (Diamonds and Toads) and realized that there was a huge world of folklore out there rich with imagery, symbolism, cultural history, and astounding emotional resonance. I later realized that I had been very interested in mythology in my earlier years, and the links between the two are obvious. I am deeply curious about the stories that seem ingrained in our culture, or better yet common to many or all of our world's cultures. I seek connection between myself and the world, and love deciphering the messages that are passed along through generations through these stories and their adaptations.
The fifth of these is, as you may have guessed, Knitting. I don't know why it has taken me so long to take up this craft. I know many people have suggested it to me in the past, and I think some aversion to the gender assciations prevented me from getting involved in it. Of course, that is now one of the things about it that most appeals to me. More and more lately I'm coming to realize that everything I want to do in my life is something I feel I was unable to do as a younger person, for one reason or another. Knitting has a few things working in its favor in this category. For one, it is stereotypically female. I like to do a lot of things that are stereotypically female, and I am starting to really feel confident enough to do them in an honest and integrated fashion, and not as a form of attention-seeking or cultivated peculiarity. I no longer feel like I have to make a spectacle of myself to be the person I want to be. In addition, knitting runs in my family. A lot of things have kept me from feeling close to my family, and I think I've always felt like the odd one out, perhaps because of my awkward generational spacing or how distanced my parents are from their own families. In any case, craft and art both have deep roots in my family, and I have a lot of heritage of which to be proud. I finally feel close enough to them that I can, without criticism, adopt their practices. Most importantly, though, knitting is creation. I've been aware, lately, of this profound connection I seem to have with the material world. I understand that to many schools of thought or divinity, the material world is a symbol of transience or ephemerality, but to an artisan it's the only world that lasts. When I knit, I'm creating a physical reality that seems so much more relevant than any of the thoughts I've ever had, or the emotions that I've felt. The pieces I create, modest or awkward though they are for now, are a precise record of the passage of time in my life, and can be put to practical use by myself and by people I love.
The first of these was, I would say, anime. I can remember being attracted to it from an early age, but as the only examples of it I could find on TV were Sailor Moon and I felt embarrassed to be caught watching a "girl's show," I never really allowed myself to get into it. But as soon as anime started airing nightly on Cartoon Network I stayed up late to see it, usually falling asleep in front of the TV in my bedroom and having to tape the shows I really wanted to see (FLCL was the first). I believe I was about 12 or 13 when this was happening, and it corresponded with a lot of other complexes of adolescence that I don't have the time or desire to get into right now, but it's safe to say it had a very big impact on the person I found myself becoming at that age and continue to become to this day.
The second of these was Dance Dance Revolution. If anime shaped the person developing inside my head, DDR convinced that person he had something to offer to the outside world. I started playing basically to lose weight and get in shape, and I still have this simple pastime to thank for my fantastic legs. As I got better and better, though, somehow the "popular kids" in my small high school caught wind of my particular talent and seemed actually rather impressed. If this sounds like mockery or spectacle, I will point out that our popular crowd was actually a pretty nice group of people that already seemed to hold me in moderate esteem. For some reason or another, though, this new talent made me something special, or at least made me feel special. And confident. Of course I can't say I have a simple or always positive relationship with the "performer" side of me, but it's definitely there and it got me through what could have been very bad years.
The third of these was Contra Dancing. Again, my relationship with this activity is far from simple. I love the thrill of dancing, and I love the excitement of meeting new people and feeling the connection of constant touch. I love the sense of community I feel there, and the sense that I could be part of a family. At the same time, though, I can't help but feel reminded on occasion that I'm not part of a family. In any case, this is a reflection of importance and not consistency, so I'll just let it stand that the feelings I have while dancing reinforce how I feel about where I fit into the world.
The fourth of these was Fairy Tales. While doing research for an art project a few years ago, I stumbled upon a story I had never heard before (Diamonds and Toads) and realized that there was a huge world of folklore out there rich with imagery, symbolism, cultural history, and astounding emotional resonance. I later realized that I had been very interested in mythology in my earlier years, and the links between the two are obvious. I am deeply curious about the stories that seem ingrained in our culture, or better yet common to many or all of our world's cultures. I seek connection between myself and the world, and love deciphering the messages that are passed along through generations through these stories and their adaptations.
The fifth of these is, as you may have guessed, Knitting. I don't know why it has taken me so long to take up this craft. I know many people have suggested it to me in the past, and I think some aversion to the gender assciations prevented me from getting involved in it. Of course, that is now one of the things about it that most appeals to me. More and more lately I'm coming to realize that everything I want to do in my life is something I feel I was unable to do as a younger person, for one reason or another. Knitting has a few things working in its favor in this category. For one, it is stereotypically female. I like to do a lot of things that are stereotypically female, and I am starting to really feel confident enough to do them in an honest and integrated fashion, and not as a form of attention-seeking or cultivated peculiarity. I no longer feel like I have to make a spectacle of myself to be the person I want to be. In addition, knitting runs in my family. A lot of things have kept me from feeling close to my family, and I think I've always felt like the odd one out, perhaps because of my awkward generational spacing or how distanced my parents are from their own families. In any case, craft and art both have deep roots in my family, and I have a lot of heritage of which to be proud. I finally feel close enough to them that I can, without criticism, adopt their practices. Most importantly, though, knitting is creation. I've been aware, lately, of this profound connection I seem to have with the material world. I understand that to many schools of thought or divinity, the material world is a symbol of transience or ephemerality, but to an artisan it's the only world that lasts. When I knit, I'm creating a physical reality that seems so much more relevant than any of the thoughts I've ever had, or the emotions that I've felt. The pieces I create, modest or awkward though they are for now, are a precise record of the passage of time in my life, and can be put to practical use by myself and by people I love.