|
The Baker's View on Bead Weaving |
|
|
|
|
Written by Dara Spiotto
|
|
Monday, 28 January 2008 |
 THE CONFIDENT BEADER
Last One Standing
Let's go back in time for a moment. Picture yourself in grade school gym class, wearing those silly shorts. Remember picking teams for kick ball or dodge ball? How did you feel when two students were chosen to go up front and then start calling out names to be their team players? I was anxious, wanting to be picked and wondering if I’d be last. That was surely the worst, to be the last man standing. In certain games I really excelled, and in others I stunk. For dodge ball I was a team leading champ, and for volleyball I was about as appealing as a troll. You know, I can’t remember who those superstar players were that always got to be team captains, but I remember every student that was picked last.
 Here I am now, a fully credentialed adult, and sometimes I feel I encounter those same people who stood up last, the low man on the totem pole. They even exist in bead land. In the bead world they say things to me like, “ Oh, you wouldn’t want me to be part of a round robin, since I’m a beginner and can’t bead that good.” And I think to myself, who cares! I’d let anyone on my team. I love to bead with a variety of skill levels. It puts a fresh perspective on each piece. And it helps newer beaders to learn more by getting to examine other’s work up close and personal.
And who says you have to be an expert at something before you can join in? You know, when you take a class you’re sitting among beaders of all skill levels. But you’re all on the same square with that particular project. All beginners.
Pull up your Bootstraps
My size 14.0 peyote beaded feathers are rumpled today. Well, because of the assumption that more complicated projects require more SKILL than simple ones. If you make a netted bracelet you’re a beginner, but if you make a netted blanket you’re a seasoned pro? If you’re a stringer instead of a weaver then you’re less of a beader? Crap. Stringing is not easy. Putting beads on a string is. Babies do that. But knowing what works together is not easy by far. Weaving is easy, too. Not everyone has the patience to do it, but it's not hard. I’ve taught Girl Scouts how to do it. Kids are fearless and have an “I can do it!” mantra in their heads when they tackle anything for the first time. When does the time come in our lives that it disappears? Where is our confidence?
During a recent class I met a person who can do the most stunning beading and each knot, crimp, and string is hidden gracefully away, flawlessly executed, and they said, “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m not very good. I just started beading.” Why do people say that? Is it a case of Tell-Me-How-Good-I-Am-I-Just-Want-To-Hear-It? Ew. I’m not going to argue with them about how good they are.
Why am I foaming at the mouth over this again? I think I’ve been on a tirade about this in another article, a year or more ago. Well, I’ll tell you what got the bead rolling. During the holiday last year, my Mom and I made some little ornaments covered in sequins and beads. I know you’ve seen them. Styrofoam balls with pins that hold the sequins and beads on. Yes, those are the ones. And I thought it would be fun to make some egg shaped ones for Easter in pastels. Out came the sequins in pinks and blues, greens and purples. I was jazzed to get started on them again. They’re really fun to make.
 Mmmmm… Eggs! For Beading!
A non-beading friend came over and saw my tray full of pastel twinklies, and asked what I was doing. As I told her my idea, she kept glancing at a piece of furniture I have in my house that’s full of weaving pieces I’ve done over the years. It’s a small table with a glass top that can lift up on a hinge, and you can put stuff in there. I have 15 years worth of projects in all kinds of bead subject matter in there, mostly complicated stuff that I don’t want my son to play with. When I finished telling her she said, “Why are you wasting your time on these?” gesturing towards my eggs. I said, “You think this is a waste of time?” and she looked at my weaving projects again and said, “Well, you’re capable of so much more.” and she wrinkled her nose.
I could feel the clarity in my head bubbling over and I took my time thinking how I would respond. So I said, “Because I know how to do more complicated projects it means I’m not allowed to do a more simple, less involved project?” She said, looking at my eggs, “Those are no-brainers.” This woman is not a beader. She’s a baker. So I asked her if since she can  make crème brûlée or dark chocolate cake layered with a fresh raspberry and chocolate ganache then why would she ever make another sugar cookie? I mean, that’s so MUNDANE. She laughed and said that sometimes she was just in the mood for sugar cookies, and nothing else will do. I held up an egg and looked at her with my eyebrows as high as I could get them. They had their own altitude. My point was taken.
Simple is Beadiful
Get this: then she says to me, “I’m not a very good baker.” This woman has won awards with her baked goods. She’s taught classes. She’s got credentials up the ying yang and she’s telling me she’s not good? I’d had enough. I said, “Well, even if you suck at baking, I’ll still eat your French chocolate torte with blueberry wine coulis.” She wasn’t fooling me.
She asked me what I planned to do with all those woven pieces. “They should be out where people can see them.” I told her that eventually they’d probably be given away to friends and family. I keep them now because they’re like old friends and I love to see how far I’ve come in my work. They’re a testament to my bead history. For now. But someday they’ll have new owners. She said, “Is one going to be mine????” with a twinkle in her eye. I said, “Hell, no. You’re getting an sequined egg. But not until 2032.”
 |
|
|
