I dabbled in art through most of my adult life but it was in my mid thirties when I had a serious bout of depression that I found myself exploring art in earnest. I returned to work part-time and combined it with part time study for about four years. I met many other people at the college who had similar tales to mine of chronic poor health and where finding the creative ingredient that art offers incredibly healing. To illustrate; I remember one day my work receiving complements from the tutor and i just broke down in tears, it wasn’t a big issue.
My art and making things has been reduced of late as I am finding other ways to express myself, singing, writing, performance and just being a busy bee. It was in this mode that I found myself with Betty in tow at a ‘Knit and Natter’ group that were meeting weekly at the Croissant of Inequality Community Cafe (previously blogged about this place) and promoting the community dog walks. In actual fact there was only a small number attending this day and they already knew about the walks. When it was suggested I might like to have a go at the knitting I did umm for a bit, maybe even ‘arred, but the lure of all that soft wool could not be resisted. Help was on hand to get started- casting on(that the technical term for getting the first line of stitches onto the needle) and then I was away, click click clicking my way backwards and forwards along the needles quite happily for a good forty five minutes. I also got to take my work home and drawing on some knowledge from the women at home now have about twenty four inches of knitting, almost a scarf!
We live in a world that is increasingly dominated by visual stimulants, TV’s, computers, mobile phones, I am typing this on a computer although I do write my first draft with pen and paper. It really is very different to the world in which I grew up in. It seems these changes have caused the creation of these little communities of people who are choosing to get more tactile, whether with wool or my current favourite dogs we allow ourselves to scrunch and muzzle into material and feel all the better for it. It certainly seems like a scene from a dystopian novel by the likes of Angela carter or Aldus Huxley-Scary stuff.