 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.
0 Comments
 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!  Trainwork USA, 1987 By Evelyn R. Swett What happens when you clean out your studio and come upon a project that is more than 30 years old?  By the tracks, 1987 By Evelyn R. Swett There are black and white prints in carefully labeled files,  Scrapbook images are so different from reality outside, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett two scrapbooks with detailed annotations,  32 year old slides in the artist's studio, 2019 by Evelyn R. Swett and two binders full of color slides.  Lovers on a summer adventure, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett More importantly, what happens when that project contains raw material that relates directly to one of the hottest topics in Washington DC?  Waiting in Kansas City, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett No, I'm not talking about the impact or reality of an aging population or racism in our country.  Somewhere America, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett I'm talking about The Green New Deal and all the controversy it is inspiring.  The map. Two months, 14 cities. Lots of photographs. It turns out, that in 1987, at the age of 21, I traveled around the United States on Amtrak, stayed with alumni from my college in twelve different cities, and researched murals painted during the Great Depression in Post Offices and other public buildings.  Slides, Farmersville, TX, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett The highlight was visiting the small town of Farmersville, Texas, photographing the mural in the post office and then, a few days later, meeting the artist, Jerry Bywaters, who created that work.  Scrapbook page. Jerry Bywaters & sketches from a New Deal Art Project, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett The New Deal is about as good as it gets when it comes to the convergence of creativity and climate action.  All Aboard Amtrak - Somewhere America, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett FDR's programs were comprehensive, universal and profoundly innovative. They impacted every aspect of our country's infrastructure and re-inspired hope for millions in the dream that once was once America.  Boyscouts, middle of the night in Kansas City, MO, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett Only by getting out of the world I knew, was I able to see the great promise of FDR's vision. At the same time, I witnessed the reality that fifty years later, that promise remained elusive for many,  Street corner murals, somewhere America, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett So here I am. It's 8:30 on a Saturday night. Calvin, the dog, is asleep at my feet and I am in heaven, remembering a very long Saturday night in the summer of 1987.  The waiting room, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett I was changing trains in Kansas City. The Southwest Chief was six hours late. There were no cell phones or laptop computers, so we got to know each other in that pre-digital waiting-room kind of way. We were more concerned for the well-being of those involved in the accident on the track, than we were with being late.  Amtrak Stationmaster, 1987 by Evelyn R. Swett Amtrak employees provided hats for the kids. I got out my camera and made friends. These places, people and works of public art I was so inspired by thirty-two years ago are why I care so much.  Gorgeous Compost, 8 Black & White, by Evelyn R. Swett When I say that compost is like America, I mean it. We are nothing without our diversity, perseverance, and patience. We are also nothing without our audacity. What the hell? Why not give it a try? A Green New Deal might be just be what we need.  Evelyn R. Swett, 1987 What happens when I discover a project from decades ago and my husband is out of town and I'm feeling reflective? A lot, I guess. To learn more, check out The Living New Deal Project, which documents and celebrates New Deal
Public Art projects and also provides a helpful connection to the Green New Deal.  "Ansel Adams in Our Time" at The Boston Museum of Fine Arts 2019 - Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography Last week I saw "Ansel Adams in Our Time," an exhibit at The Boston Museum of Fine Arts. It was totally cool.  Ansel Adams "Mexican Boy, 1948" Detail, Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography It is clear that Adams witnessed and understood a whole lot more about the human condition than his reverent landscapes had ever revealed to me on their own.  Ansel Adams "Ferns" Detail, Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography Check out this intimate portrait of a Mexican boy, this stunning close-up of a fern, and this panoramic view of human development.  Ansel Adams, "Freeway Interchange, LA, 1967" Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography It gave me the chills. Adams understood our reciprocal relationship with the natural world and the fragility of our co- dependence.  Alberto Morell, "Tent-Camera Image on Ground, View of Mount Moran" 2011, Detail © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography There I was, reflected in the glass, paying attention to these imaginative re-imagings of Ansel Adams's world. In Abelardo Morell's exploration of the microcosmos and the macrocosmos I saw the tenuous balance between individual rights and collective responsibility necessary in any democracy.  Mitch Epstein, "Altamont Pass Wind Farm, CA" 2007, Detail Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography And I laughed when I saw myself in Mitch Epstein's "Altamont Pass Wind Farm." So funny how we play games with each other, with nature and with ourselves.  Lucas Foglia, "Beach Restoration after El Nino Waves, 2016" Detail Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography And, I loved Luis Faglio's reflection about beach restoration, how it celebrates the "hope and the irony that we are able to move sand."  Laura McPhee "Midsummer, 2008" Detail, Copyright © 2019, Evelyn R Swett Photography Strange, to feel at home in a large, meandering exhibit in an even larger museum, but the message of these works was close to home. Yes, we can move sand. Yes, lupine does grow after a fire.Yes, we have the power to renew not just ourselves, but the planet as well. Yes. |
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 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
May 2019
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed
Join the conversation and sign up for Let's ReFrame!
Check out the description below**.
(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.)
You can unsubscribe at any time
Check out the description below**.
(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.)
You can unsubscribe at any time
603-715-4468
PO Box 378 Hanover, NH 03755 evelynrswett at gmail dot com |
|
© Copyright 2019
Evelyn R Swett Photography All Rights Reserved |
**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.