 The Dartmouth Green -- Empty Photo by ERSwett Welcome to the first day of Spring. We woke to a light dusting of snow and are a bit disappointed by yet another cloudy day. But it is, after all, March in New Hampshire and we are experiencing a global pandemic. So the fact that The Green is empty and stores are closed is real.  J. Crew Closure, March 2020, Hanover, NH Photo by ERSwett So too is compost. The narcissus may be done, but they are still making lemon curd at Umpleby's and we are still eating bananas. In the midst of disappointed teenagers at home, I return, as always, to the colors, shapes & textures of my compost pile.  Yellow Narcissus & Lemons, 2020 Photo by ERSwett My gratitude for this pile is deep. Year after year it transforms waste into nourishment for gardens while at the same time inviting me to be patient, get my hands dirty, and remember that sometimes life is really messy.  Coffee Filters, 2020 Photo by ERSwett As if by magic, though, creativity emerges over and over again out of the apparent mess. It should be no surprise to you, then, that I have more photographs of coffee filters. Who knows how long the supply will last, but they are such a simple way for me to connect with my sister, Sarah Swett, who keeps making things out of these funny pieces of paper.  Finding Joy with Coffee Filters, March 2020 Photo by ERSwett And in the process, I pay closer attention to what was once just another part of the waste I collected each week from Umpleby's Bakery & Cafe in Hanover, NH. Coffee filters, it turns out are beautiful.  Pile of Filters Photo by ERSwett For me, It's so much more than textures & subtle muted tones.  Coffee Filters Smiling Photo by ERSwett It's all about how these filters seemed to talk to me earlier today, and made me laugh as I folded them & prepared to mail them to my sister in Idaho.  It all seemed so funny, how I packaged them up, but am waiting two weeks to send them, for fear I might have The Virus and might unknowingly mail it to my sister whose husband has cancer and definitely can't get this thing. So once again my compost and all its associated projects invite patience and humor. This really is all quite messy...  Coffee Filters Folded and Ready to Ship Photo by ERSwett ...and beautiful, because even though we may be thousands of miles apart, we are together, exploring these funny pieces of paper and wondering what will emerge from it all.  Our Daily Grapefruit Photo by ERSwett So after I finish this blog post, I will go upstairs to cut our daily grapefruit - one for each member of the family every day for as long as supplies last. During times of stress and uncertainty, I like routines. I like this habit of culling & cleaning coffee filters to send to my sister. I like making something healthy for our family on a regular basis. And I like making sure we laugh about the fact it's a Thursday & my kids are eating breakfast at 2 pm just when I'm having my mid afternoon snack. It's all part of a new routine and I'm OK with all of that...  Kids at Home March 2020 Photo by ERSwett ...because it is March and even though it seems dark and gray and lonely to be stuck at home, I know that the bulbs will emerge from the frozen earth & spring will come, because that's nature's routine, and I'm good with that.  Today's view in my studio. Photo by ERSwett PS
It is still Women's History Month...so let's support each other as much as we can from afar. For inspiration of all kinds, check out my friend Jennifer Jewell's Podcast Cultivating Place - - The January episodes were all about the therapeutic and spiritual capacities of our gardens - in all their forms. We need that now, more than ever.
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 Inaugural Hanover Community Climate Conversation at Salt Hill Pub, Hanover, NH February 4, 2020 Who knew that 20 people would show up for Hanover's inaugural Community Climate Conversation? With just a few hand-made notices around town and in a few social media outlets, we drew a small crowd. How cool is that?  Handmade Poster for Hanover Community Climate Conversation, 2020 Indeed, what does the climate have to do with fashion and clothing? As it turns out, more than most of us know or understand. Apparel and footwear accounted for 8% of global greenhouse gas emissions in 2016 (more carbon than international flights and maritime shipping), is the second largest consumer of the world's water supply, and pollutes oceans with micro- plastics and rivers with toxic chemicals.  My favorite black boots purchased on consignment from The Pink Alligator in West Lebanon, NH Clothes are also something we wear every day and that can often make our day. I know that is the case for me. My black boots give a kick to my step and my long purple wool cardigan embraces me and gives me confidence. There is no reason to feel bad about dressing in garments that make us feel good. Our challenge is learning how to wear clothes that both feel great and don't harm the earth.  Kim Souza, Owner of Revolution in White River Junction, VT Photo by ERSwett I loved hearing Kim Souza, owner of Revolution (in White River Junction, VT) talk about how she curates her store. While some dresses or fun socks might sell big, she will not sell them if they are not made in the US or ethically produced. Joan Ecker, Founder of Fat Hat Clothing, shared valuable insights about the costs of clothing production and the dangers of 'greenwashing.'  Dr.LeeAnn T Rutkovsky shares her wisdom with Joan Ecker, Founder Fat Hat Clothing, and others Photo by ERSwett For me, laughter was the best part of the evening. Here were a bunch of people, some more interested in 'fashion' than others, who came together to begin a conversation about climate that actually started with what we were wearing. By sharing stories about our clothes in an informal setting we got to know each other in a different kind of way.  Self portrait wearing favorite 24 year old wool sweater Photo by ERSwett Just as one wool sweater is not the same as another (was the wool sustainably harvested, were the sheep treated well, were the people who assembled the garment paid a living wage?), no two people have the same relationship to their wardrobes and how their clothes make them feel. Like so much in the climate conversation, there is always more than meets the eye. Can you tell, for example, that this ancient & beloved turtleneck was repaired last week?  Armpit holes waiting for attention Photo by ERSwett In my last blog post, Compost, Fiber and Fashion, I considered the power of re-imagining my clothes and, in the process, re-imagining myself. At their heart, these reflections come from my ongoing concern for and fascination with waste, not just of food, but of everything. My mother-in-law saved her hems, because she hated things going to waste.  Sashiko style repairs Photo by ERSwett I repaired this twenty-four year old wool turtleneck sweater I bought at a street fair in Germany because I love it, and it seemed wasteful to find another one when I could mend this one. It seems to me that how we connect to our clothing may perhaps reflect how we think not just about ourselves, but also about what it means to be wasteful in general.  Old sweater, new life & a new look Photo by ERSwett I hope that our first Community Climate Conversation inspires those who attended to think more deeply about what they wear. More importantly, though, I hope our laughter invites others to join these gatherings, knowing that we find joy and have fun while paying attention to topics that we know about and love.  This is where we'll be: The cozy corner at Still North Book in Hanover Photo by ERSwett Next Community Climate Conversation:
What's the Story of OUR Stuff? (bring an object you love) March 3, 2020 @ Still North Books, Hanover, NH 5:30 - 7:30 pm Facilitator: Marc Morgan (By day, the manager of Lebanon, NH's solid waste facility; By night, an advocate for deeper thinking about what we consume and why)  Stitching the rip... This week I have been thinking about fixing and mending. To me, fixing involves a tool kit used to solve a specific problem which, when repaired, provides a clear solution. Once fixed, we move on, glad that the problem has been resolved.  repairing the furnace This was what happened a few days ago when our furnace stopped working and two guys came to repair it. It took some time to diagnose the actual problem, but with their tool kit in hand, they solved the issue. Done. House warm again. We move on with our day.  the mending pile A day which, for me, involved mending - an act that feels different from fixing. Yes, there is a problem to solve - a lost button or holes in a pair of joggers - But the problem does not feel urgent, like a furnace not working in the middle of winter.  the old duvet The contents of yesterday's mending pile, for example, consisted of things with problems we had been living with for years...literally. This tie on this vintage duvet cover had been broken for longer than I can remember, as had the missing button on another duvet cover in the pile.  messy stitches Mending does not have to be perfect, either. Clearly, my stitches on the duvet are a bit messy and the button and thread color do not match what was there before on this night shirt.  mismatched buttons My goal was simple: Get the job done & move on. That's what I do in January. Finish projects, clean up, clear out, and, as if often the case, mend things, whether a missing button, a huge rip in my favorite gardening clothes, my son's joggers, or, perhaps, even the climate...  same overalls, similar rips, different strategies But when I started to mend the huge rip on the back side of these overalls, I got distracted, as can happen sometimes, and decided to add some color, because, as it turns out, I had been consolidating our thread collection earlier in the week and happen to have found this fabulous green (ooh I love run- on sentences).  what if? And I thought it would be fun to add some curves to this otherwise set of straight lines. So suddenly my 'get- the job done' mending turned into something else entirely.  the seduction of curves I became entranced by the colors, shapes and textures that emerged. I know. These joggers are completely absent of color.  losing change from jogger pockets But the shapes and textures were so cool and the feeling of the wool fabric I used to repair the holes so soft, I just had to share these images and this project with you.  textures of mending Because I realized, in the midst of it all, that mending is about tending to an ongoing relationship with something or someone, whether it's a piece of clothing, your dog or your son. Yes, there is a particular problem that emerges at the moment, but in the process of mending it, you change the actual structure of that which is being mended by adding thread, new fabric, new colors or new shapes.  a very very mellow companion And, it turns out, you can change the structure of yourself as well. Or at least, that's what happens to me when I sit and sew. I hang out with my dog, who hangs out with me. We both breath more slowly. I have no idea what he thinks about, but I stay focused on each stitch, mindfully mending in that moment.  there will always be need for another button But even
as I sew on buttons and patch holes in joggers, I'm thinking, always thinking, about all those big issues out there in the world for which we want a quick a fix, but which, in my heart, I know may not be able to be fixed with a single tool box at a single moment. The problems we face are just too big. But it helps me to address them when I adopt a mending state of mind. Knowing we will be in this for a while, I focus on relationships of all kinds and not worry about perfection by knowing what is good enough and by making sure I am open to altering my plans by adding color here and curves there.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 1 By ERSwett The cornucopia came home with us after Thanksgiving in CT. It sat on the windowsill.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 2 By ERSwett The flowers started to wilt and I noticed the texture of the drying petals and the play of light from different angles.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 3 By ERSwett And the roses captured my attention.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 4 By ERSwett And kept my attention even when tossed into the compost pile.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 5 By ERSwett It's strange. I've actually never really liked roses. They're hard to grow and their thorns hurt. It has always struck me as odd that a flower that can cause pain would be one so many use to express love. Though maybe that's the point. Love hurts. Sometimes.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 6 By ERSwett On this particular day in the compost pile, though, I fell in love with the roses. They seduced me and inspired me to hang out with them, despite cold fingers & a runny nose.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 7 By ERSwett I know they must have traveled far to arrive fresh in Connecticut in late November. Perhaps it is out of respect for their journey that I can't take my eyes off them - even when things get a bit stirred up...  Cornucopia in the Compost, 8 By ERSwett ...and more compost arrives & gets mixed & mingled with the coffee and the discarded cornucopia.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 9 By ERSwett They are unstoppable, these roses, determined to not get left behind or forgotten. They refuse to be outdone by the dryer lint, kale, or banana peels. They persist.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 10 By ERSwett Maybe that's why love and roses go together. If we pay attention, it's not the rose at first glance, it's the rose that still captivates as it evolves, edges drying and petals falling off. For me, that's what love is...  Cornucopia in the Compost, 11 By ERSwett Love for my family. Love for my friends. Love for the earth that sustains us. Even when tested and tossed around a bit, real love persists, captivates, and has the power to transform all those paying attention to it.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 12 By ERSwett  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 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!  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!  Vintage 1992 handmade bathroom curtains - - still in use. Let the light shine! It's daylight savings time. And maybe, just maybe, the snow will melt by April and the morning temperature will be above zero.  Bathroom blinds with a view. In this Green New Deal, Part 2, I get real about our energy conservation at home. And since we're talking about light, I thought I'd explore windows. Fun, right?  Cheap shade in the kid's bathroom. We have lots of them - 67 in fact - that are essential sources of light and stunning ways to frame views of our garden and Vermont. But in terms of energy, even our 15 year old double-paned 'new' windows leak heat.  The 'translucent' kitchen shimmering shade. Over the years, we have slowly added insulated and other shades to help keep the house warm in winter and cool in summer. Some are even color coordinated, while others are thin, cheap roll-ups. We even have plastic in the livingroom...  High tech insulating shades with custom color to match the room. Clearly, we have a hodge-podge. Of course, my favorites are the ones I made when first married in 1992 and the re-used ones from my grandmother's house that I found in her attic when she died and then hung in our living room a decade ago - - just to try the colors...  Gram's old curtains, hung with thumb tacks and a ribbon. This week I've been thinking about the idea of 'window dressing,' of giving a superficial, but misleading impression. Most of the 1930's New Deal murals I studied in college (see last week's blog post, My Green New Deal, Part 1) were colorful celebrations of the American Dream, a dream that for millions of people at that time was a broken promise.  These stayed down till 10am when the outside temperature finally reached 15 degrees. Sometimes, I feel surrounded by broken promises - - The dream of a house, but no one tells you how much money it takes to maintain it; The dream of filling the house with things you need and love, but no advertisement reveals the true cost and impact of those objects. So now we have ten years to adapt to the realities caused by our own behavior...  High tech insulating shades that keep things warm in winter and cool in summer. Ok. That is way too heavy and way too guilt-ridden for my tastes. So let's go back to light, color, texture and the glorious convergence of creativity and climate action. I love this time of year. It's still cold and inside projects still beckon, like making the curtains in my studio warmer by sewing old linen napkins onto them...  Plastic on a window or cool light, texture and tone? So I'm excited about our family's Green New Deal. We have a decade to make the rest of our 67 windows as energy efficient as they can be. To achieve that goal, we will take stock of what needs to be done, prioritize and make a plan. For now, though, I will continue to appreciate this crazy mix of window 'dressings' that continue to keep us warm and I will keep noticing the afternoon play of light.  Ikea curtains in my studio - ready for adaptation.  Exterior, Dartmouth College Co-Generation Facility - - Fuel Storage Tanks, 2019 I love climbing tree limbs and ladders.  I love curves, lines and textures.  Detail, Dartmouth College Co-Generation Plant, 2019 There is something reassuring about light on metal...  Detail, Dartmouth Heating Tunnel, Beneath the Green, 2019 and the reality that even with three inches of insulation, some heat gets lost.  Detail, Home Heating System in Hanover, NH 2019 It's hard to believe that there are imperfections with these perfect symmetries and designs. But there are. Energy can not be created nor destroyed, but it can be transferred between objects, creating inefficiencies along the way.  That is just the reality of how things work and why, even with a relatively upgraded heating system, this vent on the north side of our living room doesn't provide much heat.  Detail, Insulated Hot Water Pipe, Hanover, NH 2019. Isn't it beautiful
to see the unseen, to honor what is functional and elegant? That's what climate action at home is all about for me. What about you? |
Evelyn R. Swett
reframing the narrative in community and with myself, finding transformation and joy in the mess of it all 
compost re-imagined
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**Let's ReFrame is a weekly viewsletter about this and that.
It includes links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and when relevant, inspirational action prompts
for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love.
It includes links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and when relevant, inspirational action prompts
for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love.