making things with your hands is important in a technocracy
why honing your craft in the midst of a tech takeover is vital, not futile.
Despite writing a semi-regular internet newsletter, I don’t care much for the web (nor can I navigate it well). Furthermore — and apologies for being trite — I see no point to NFTs, can’t wrap my brain (or even its gullibility) around crypto, and even…GASP… use microsoft edge from time to time. Sorry nerds.
But the truth of the matter is that whether I accept or deny a site’s cookies, technology inevitably plays a role in my decision making. From my direct-deposit paychecks to the government databases that store my info, the web impacts my life in a way I can’t control. What I can control is ☝️ my own two hands✋. They, along with help from my brain, can make whatever they want. My hands can sew a quilt, reupholster a sofa, write a thank-you note, stick their middle fingers up at the drop of a MAGA hat AND NO ONE CAN TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME. Even when all the “important“ stuff happens on a screen. Life is what you make it. So keep making it, or learn to. Here’s why I believe it’s important.
I’m radically drawn to handy projects, though I don’t deny the power of positive online connections. This blog for example. The web grants me a broader access to the sewing community beyond my local ties, and I’m forever grateful for it. But sometimes I struggle to balance my online presence with in-person projects. I get sucked in to my FYP and go wayyyyyyyyy too long without making something in real life. I’ll get jealous of creators and forget that I, too can create cool things to wear and own.
One such instance comes to mind. Two Augusts ago, I phoned my older brother in despair. I had just graduated college mere months prior, and had spent the interem working at a summer camp. The job was a whirlwind of fun, but I hadn’t spared any time to sew. On the call, I told him I was depressed, confused, and feeling like a failure. To the lattermost state, he replied that I wasn’t a failure – rather that I was just 22, which often gets mixed up with that. As for the depression and confusion, he asked me what I planned on doing about it. I replied that I didn’t know, but had started sewing my first quilt because “waking up to something I made each morning might help.”
It did1. That quilt showed, or rather reminded me, who I am. I’m a sewist who likes my creativity where I can see it: in my outfits, home decor, and occasionally on the bods of friends and family. When I get wrapped up in the stress of my phone, the news, or my job, my quickest path back to fulfillment is a project that exists in real life.
Until this point, sewing was something I could do, but barely a hobby or critical component of my life. I got busy in college and only did it when I needed a cheap outfit. I hadn’t yet connected the dots between sewing to my self worth and happiness. Each thing I made after that call gave me purpose and direction like no other project had before. Nothing I’ve ever engaged with, read, or created online could hold a candle to the amount of fulfillment I get clipping the final threads on something handmade.
Maybe you’re different than me, and that’s okay. Just know that if things on your screen start feeling too scary, you’ve got two hands that are yours to control. They can always make something. If they want to make something with fabric, you’re in the right place.
It also began my on-again off-again quilting obsession.