 Walt Whitman's "This Compost" & Maidenhair ferns...in process. If you've been reading my blog or following me on Instagram, you'll know that I was planning to include my altered Cotillion Dress in my current solo show at AVA Gallery.  Compost Compositions in the Mayor Gallery at AVA in Lebanon, NH Fall 2019 If you've been to AVA to find the dress, you'll know that it's not there.  The mixing and mingling of wool threads on a silk dress. It intrigues me how the creative process works, and how hard it can be to separate one thread from another when they all feel integral to each other.  Embroidered excerpts from Walt Whitman's poem "This Compost" by ERSwett. The dress evolved from last year's curiosity about how I could share Walt Whitman's poem "This Compost" in a colorful and affordable manner by embroidering it on old things, like a pillowcase or a cloth diaper from the 1960's.  Embroidered final stanza of Whitman's "This Compost" by ERSwett While embroidering, I listened to numerous podcasts about art, women, the climate crisis, racial justice and the idea of white fragility. Each voice I heard inspired me to rethink my past and my relationship to it. And then I remembered the white dress in the attic...  Giving life to an old dress with ferns from our yard. And it all began because I love the colors of compost and so started taking pictures of it all the time...until, magically, I had what they call a 'body of work' worth sharing.  Dryer Lint, 2019 Photograph on Paper, 24" x 24" By ERSwett But sometimes, what you love most just has to stay home. In this case, I am grateful that I gave my work to the Exhibits Director at AVA and let her decide. The dress, even though it seemed essential to the show for me, just didn't fit and would have been a distraction.  Bulbs, 2019 Photograph on Paper, 18" x 18" By ERSwett. I am grateful to this beautiful piece of silk and lace for inviting me to explore my own identity as a creative person, not just with a camera, but in life. The dress, as companion, has been key.  Self-Portrait in The Dress...in process...before the maidenhair, poem and other alterations. By ERSwett
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 Selfie before people arrive. Pinch me. Is it true? Is 5 year's worth of work really assembled in a real art gallery for others to see?  The Opening, October 11. Photograph by Shiela C. Swett It must be, because people showed up to celebrate the launch, my 'coming' out...  Artifacts from Waste & Our Material World Front Porch Conversation, Oct. 22. And people gathered again this past Tuesday for a conversation about Waste & Our Material World with Marc Morgan, Director of the Lebanon, NH Solid Waste Facility. I love how what began as an isolated exploration of my backyard compost has connected me to so many cool people.  Talking with Charles Umpleby at the Opening. Photograph by Shiela C. Swett Like the Umpleby's, who run Umpleby's Cafe & Bakery in Hanover, NH - - I get all my coffee grinds and other large masses of cool vegetables from them.  Are these degrees real? Photograph by Shiela C. Swett Or all those strangers I meet at various events who wonder at my composted degrees and share their own stories about celebrating the past while also re-imagining the future.  The Colors of Muscles. Photograph by Shiela C. Swett It's magical when a vision becomes reality - - when showing up to something seemingly mundane, like my compost bin, could inspire not just me, but also all those who come in contact with this work. Who knew?  8 x 8 Cash & Carry Compost Compositions. Please come
share the joy and experience the wonder that is our waste at my artist's talk next Friday, November 1. It will be at AVA Gallery at 5pm. Oh, and it's also my birthday and I was thinking how great it would be to share it with others who care about all this stuff. See you then and there!  Corn Husks & Red Onions, 2018 Photo by ERSwett What is it about corn husks, besides their enticing shade of light green, fanlike spread on the pile, and their capacity to protect?  Corn Cobs & Shreds, 2019 Photo by ERSwett For me, it is much more than the reassuring taste of what they contain. It has to do with their history, and the fact that corn was originally a gift from the indigenous people who lived in New England to my people, who showed up 500 years ago, unannounced and unprepared. The results were not pretty.  Grilled Corn Husks, 2017 Photo by ERSwett I am deeply grateful for the gift of corn then and now. Though today it has a different purpose, perhaps, inspiring a new point of view on the conversations that gift started centuries ago. Who has the right to what land and for what purpose? And who is going to care for it?  Dried Corn Husks, 2018 Photo by ERSwett It is an honor that later today I will be among friends new and old, celebrating these Compost Compositions. They are at once framed compositions of color, shape and texture as well as narratives about what it means to live in our world today - - the beauty and the mess of it all. Some days it feels more beautiful than others.  Dryer Lint, 2019 Photo by ERSwett Today, I choose to see the beauty of what is, not just in the compost pile, but in my life. Please come see the show at AVA Gallery. It's really cool.  And also, please
take a moment this weekend to express gratitude for all those before us who made our current harvests possible.  Mussels, 2019 By ERSwett My first solo show opens in 11 days. What is the story I want to tell?  Grapefruit & Snow, 2019 By ERSwett Is it about the cool colors, textures and shapes of my Compost Compositions? Yes.  Shredded Paper, 2018 By ERSwett Is it about the stories those Compositions tell about food, culture and the regenerative power of waste? Yes.  Emerging And there is more. Behind these photographs there is me, a woman in mid life choosing to share her work and, by default, her story - -  2 Degrees, The Tear 2018 By ERSwett A story that begins with a beginners mind - - a willingness to explore not just content that most ignore, but process as well.  2 Degrees, 2018 By ERSwett Perhaps that is why last year I had so much fun dismantling and composting my Harvard and UVA Degrees. Why not explore?  Maidenhair Fern on Silk Dress, 2019 By ERSwett Or, perhaps that is why I am OK sharing my first attempt at decorating a silk dress with embroidered imagery of my own design.  Maidenhair Fern (Wool on Silk), 2019 By ERSwett Now that it is Show Time the connections between these experiments becomes clearer.  Shadowed Self, 2019 By ERSwett In a world filled with fear, I am no longer afraid to reframe my relationship to garbage or to myself.  Self Portrait, 2019 To learn more,
you'll have to come to the show. The opening is October 11 at AVA Gallery in Lebanon, NH. My Artist's Talk is November 1 at 5pm, also at AVA Gallery. Or, you can just keep reading this blog. More will be revealed, I'm sure.  The point sticks into the Gulf of Maine. It's 1.5 miles from our family's house and is a destination when it's high tide and the beach is covered. What's the point, you ask? Besides the wild flowers blowing in the breeze, the waves crashing on the rocks, and the knowledge that next year it will still be here, the point is that today I saw multiple Monarchs there.  I stood and watched them play - - gliding in the wind and resting on the bay laurel. They made me happy - - their telltale orange and black contrasting with the green shrubs and the blue water beyond. And they made me sad. Will they survive or not? Who knows?  What's the point? I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to be surrounded by thousands of these delicate creatures at their final destination in the mountains of Mexico and understood that all I needed was that association and idea to invite a momentary massive flurry of wings which, when I opened my eyes, were everywhere and no where. At this point in time, I'm happy to stay right here. No plane travel needed. Just me and my imagination. So cool.  What's the point? Our imaginations.
Wherever you are, consider how far you can go by going nowhere. Look at something in your yard or in your home and imagine a place far away. Feel the air, hear the wind and see the wonder. Then open your eyes again and be grateful for your imagination. It's a gift we often overlook. Happy Happy August. Happy Summer! This was my view a few days ago while hanging the laundry. It takes my breath away every time I go onto our terrace.  The Laundry View. Photograph by ERSwett 2019 I was in a great mood because I had set the day aside to work on a major embroidery project I'm exploring this summer.  Today's Project. Photograph by ERSwett 2019 But life kept getting in the way. You know how it can be - managing the compost, changing toilet-paper rolls, drinking water to stay hydrated on a hot day, cleaning up after the dog made a mistake... and, of course, doing the laundry.
I think I was able to finish about half a leaf between each interruption. By the time I went out to hang the laundry, I was feeling really frustrated by how slow my progress was. I'd been feeling bad about other things too. Like the fact I hadn't written a blog post for more than a month and that I hadn't finished the next playbook in my series.  Re-imagining old clothes But while standing on the terrace and hearing the baby birds and seeing a monarch butterfly head toward the volunteer milkweed in the orchard we planted, I remembered that not long ago, none of this was here: no terrace, solar panels, shrubs or perennials, and no monarchs or baby birds learning to sing.  A Blank Canvas - Our Yard, 2004 I also remembered how exciting it was to see these peonies and iris bloom together after we had transplanted them that first year with the terrace garden - that was 8 years ago.  We're Here! Peonies & Iris, 2012 Some days I have to remind myself that over time, lots of little actions accumulate and become something larger than themselves. A single stone becomes a terrace. A single flower becomes a garden. A single stitch in a small leaf becomes a re-imagined dress.  Coming to Life. Photograph by ERSwett 2019 Sometimes I just have to consciously remember how things really work, which is why when I dumped the compost and took yet another photograph, I remembered the power of showing up and of big little things. 10 pounds of compost a week adds up to 500 pounds a year -- a ton over four years. That's a lot of food diverted from the landfill. It's also a lot of photographs celebrating its beauty.  Grocery List Photograph by ERSwett (At AVA this summer) So this week I'm celebrating Big Little Things. Like the fact that after creating thousands of Compost Compositions, I finally have two in a juried show this summer and I'll have a few dozen in a solo show this fall - - All at AVA Gallery in Lebanon, NH. Friends told me that if I kept showing up for my work and for myself, cool things would happen. They were right. They are.  Corn Husks & Red Onion Photograph By ERSwett (In solo show this fall) Who knew the simple climate action of composting would lead me to become a photographer? Who knew that photographing that compost could lead to learning about embroidery and the craft of remaking old clothes? Who knew that the act of remaking old things would inspire new ways of thinking and new ways of being?  Hemming the dress. Photograph by ERSwett How are you celebrating the Big Little Things in your day or your week? Remember: When you show up for yourself and those you love, cool things can happen. Messages for the Future @ AVA Gallery AVA's 2019 Summer Juried Exhibition July 12 - August 21  Monday Morning's Activities (not listed above):
Writing & mailing post cards to daughter and mother-in-law; Emptying the dehumidifier in my basement studio; Packing up some college supplies for a friend, who happens to be passing through, to take down to DC so that we won't have so much to manage in August when our son goes to college there; Managing a broken nail that I got while packing those supplies; Receiving a packet of pachysandra from a neighbor with whom I had just spoken during my morning walk - - She mentioned she had more pachysandra than she needed; I mentioned I could use some. I thought the plan was for me to go over and harvest it. What a gift! And it all happened between 9am and 1pm.  Love these boots. All from The Pink Alligator in Hanover, NH I wore these boots from November to May this year. Finally, a few weeks ago, they went into the storage box, from which my summer sandals and other cooler shoes emerged. Time for the seasonal assessment. If I haven't worn something for a year or if it doesn't work anymore, it goes in the spring give away pile.  cause blisters, too frumpy... You might think, with 26 pairs of work boots, athletic shoes, dress shoes and casual shoes, I'd have enough. But I don't. My athletic shoes are worn out and I've never really found the 'just right' pair of casual sneakers...and with this trip to London, it became clear that I needed some upgrades. But...  Window, The Third Estate, London These days I'm focused on shoes and clothes with a story. If they haven't been well worn by another before me, I want to know that the materials used are ethically sourced, the stitches made with care, and the resources used, fair.  The Third Estate, Kentish Town, London So yesterday, there I was, in Kentish Town, London, at The Third Estate, on whose racks and shelves are clothes, shoes, bags and socks made with love. Each brand, it seems, has its own story to tell.  Storied Shoes at The Third Estate, London So I had some fun.
Light or dark Ethletic Fair Trade Vegan Sustainable Trainers?
Funky Kalakar Breathable and light "BreLite Collection" shoes whose soles come from recycled tires and uppers are handspun cotton. They truly are the lightest shoes ever - - only 250 grams! A perfect travel companion.  dark, cute and comfy from The Third Estate, London I ended up with dark, cute, comfy and filled with love. They make me feel like I'm flying. Maybe that's why The Third Estate has a bird on its window.  But here's what I'm learning about this thing called "Slow Fashion." It's not about how fast something is made, it's about the stories embedded in each fiber and in the transaction itself. Angela, who helped me, wanted me to feel good. She knew about each shoe company and why they cared.  Another kind of 'green' window And the coolest thing? Most shopping expeditions leave me exhausted, but after I left yesterday, I found myself in an unexpected area, ready to explore. Who knew that by going to The Third Estate, I would also experience this colorful and nuanced part of town?  Cool apartments on a canal This canal seemed so quiet and peaceful, but then I followed the curve of and light on this living building... curious as I tend to be, about the relationship between the built environment and nature...  Living building in Camden Town ...and I found myself in an entirely unexpected place, where the buildings were alive in a different kind of way.  Cool building in Camden Town, London So I guess shoes really are a thing for me. Comfortable feet matter but so does my actual footprint. I think it's cool when I can care for both.  Loving my new Ethletic Fair Trainers. 3 cheers
for slow fashion, meandering explorations, and the simple joy of taking time to care. Happy June!  Our grandmother's dresses out for a dance in 2007.  My sister and I played dress-up. Our mother took photographs.  And then they hung in my attic for over a decade... until it was time to let them live again.  Some went to our local theater company and others went to goodwill. A few stayed behind though, because, well, they just needed to.  How could I resist those colors, textures and the spirit of my grandmother?  Well... Not exactly me. But what if...  I'm a mender (see last week's blog post), not a maker or re-maker, but maybe there was a costume designer with the imagination I needed to help re-create these in my own image?
Along came Rebecca Sewart, owner of Pins & Needles Garment Company. She saw the potential and, probably with her upcoming work with Joseph and the Amazing Techni-Color Dream Coat in mind, started with the dress. The entire process was magic.  What a gift to have an energetic, creative person who loves fiber come to my house and lovingly transform a complicated fabric into the coolest pair of 'retro' trousers a gal could own.  Gram must approve, because I feel her spirit when I wear her re-imagined evening gowns, which now contain Rebecca's energy as well. Stay tuned for our next shared creation...It seems that patience pays. Notes:
My sister is the incredible maker, Sarah Swett, who plays with fiber and is currently enamored with making her own clothes. My mother is Shiela Swett, who loves to take photographs of nature out her back door. I learned about Rebecca from the owners of The Pink Alligator, a consignment store in Lebanon and Hanover, NH. Rebecca is now creating costumes for a production of Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat for a theater company in Massachusetts. Final thought: I have to assume that those who made my grandmother's clothes and the fabric from which they came earned a living wage, since they were either hand made or couture, but I don't know for sure since working conditions varied fifty years ago. In today's world of fast fashion, though, I am trying hard to use the fabrics I have and keep things as local as possible. This project brings me complete joy because it honors my grandmother's standard of owning well-made clothes that last and my standard of embracing the ethic of slow, sustainable fashion. And in the process, I have clothes that make me feel powerful and beautiful, but which I never would have bought off any rack in any store. Thank you, Gram.  A 26-year-old cotton object that rips when I touch it. It's just a t-shirt, right?  No. It's more. It contains memories: My first years of marriage; Playing squash with my husband; Being in my 20's and feeling invincible; It's so much more than just a t-shirt.  Inspired by menders near and far, I got out a needle, some light purple thread, and got to work. I want to wear this fragile cotton shirt again. Because...  Because, well, I love it. It's just so soft.   Think the art of Japanese Boro also known as Sashiko mending.
Think slow fashion sustainable fashion re-use.  When I love something, I care for it. When I love someone, I care for them. Love takes time and patience. It can be messy and slow and it is always imperfect. But it's possible. We just have to show up and try.  Oh. And always have a sense of humor. For 26 years, I have only seen colors, shapes, & an artist's signature. When I told my husband about this project, he asked: "Oh, your dancer shirt?"... "My what? No, the one with cool colors and shapes."  Who knew? It turns out I had never actually paid as close attention to this shirt I love as much as my husband had. Sometimes I guess we just see what we see. What's cool is that I didn't feel anything like a dancer back in the 1990's, but I definitely do today. It's now more perfect than ever.  Also,
I'm grateful to my mother for teaching me how to sew. Happy Mother's Day to all!  Tulips Emerge, Sunday April 14, 2019. Photo by ERSwett Spring at last. I look at the tulips slowly emerging from the soil and think: "It's Showtime."  Dried Hosta Lace, Sunday April 7, 2019. Photo by ERSwett No kidding. And not just for the mourning doves mating on our terrace or the hosta lace appearing from beneath the snow.  Grouping images. Experimenting with size. It's Showtime. April 2019 I'm actually going to have my own show this fall at AVA Gallery in Lebanon, NH! There they will be - four years of Compost Compositions, priced, framed, curated and composed.  The first view: Framed Compost Compositions take over the dining room. At first I was unsure when the exhibit director suggested I show my work like photographs are usually seen: printed on paper, framed and behind glass. I had liked the immediacy and simplicity of canvas. But then I saw them framed and understood. Wow, these really are cool.  Two Degrees, 2018. Frame and glass? Not for this one. Once again, compost is my teacher, reminding me to be aware of my assumptions. For me, canvas was the point - an invitation to literally 're-frame' my beliefs about art and how things are 'supposed' to work. More than just immediacy, canvas seemed simpler, with fewer materials and less energy.  Packages of images on canvas arrive, March 2019. Photo by ERSwett But then I handled all the cardboard and tape and compared this to the small packet needed to ship ten times as many prints on paper that I could then have framed by local artisans... and my thinking changed about the waste and I realized the trade-offs inherent in the very idea of a show at all.  Planning for the first show continues, April 2019. I asked: Is it good enough? Am I good enough for all this? Then I look at the work and experience an uncontainable surge of energy.  This is Compost, 9 (2018) hanging out in the kitchen. I see that the canvas is actually too simple, too much like a poster I could order from CVS. The paper, frames and glass give this gorgeous garbage a presence that it deserves and I have earned.  Sarah Swett's tapestry, Jane's Picnic - an inspiration and a model. Am I allowed
to say such things? Yes. Because this work celebrates the convergence of creativity and climate action and in the process inspires joy and new ways of being not just for me, but maybe for you as well. We will only know, though, if it gets out there...So get ready. It's Showtime! |
Evelyn R. Swett celebrates
how creativity and climate action converge to inspire joy and new ways of being. 
compost re-imagined
Let's ReFrame!
is a bi-weekly newsletter that hopefully inspires joy & new ways of being. It will include links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and, best of all, inspirational action prompts for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love. Oh, and I promise I won't share your information (that would be so uncool) and I don't actually do promotions, but that text is required. Archives
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**Let's ReFrame is a weekly newsletter that hopefully inspires joy & new ways of being.
It will include links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and, best of all, inspirational action prompts
for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love.
It will include links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and, best of all, inspirational action prompts
for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love.