Content warning: this article is going to discuss the making of a puppet, with many pictures of the process. Some people have a fear of puppets or dolls (and my puppet is of a rather curious appearence), and may be caused distress, so reader discretion is advised.
One of the most important lessons that I have learned so far from The University of the Self is that it is important, wherever possible, to remain open to new experiences. By coincidence, I have just started to read the book Time and How to Spend It, by James Wallman, Penguin, 2019. I can’t recall now where I picked up the recommendation for this book — a lecture, an article, a conversation at a book event, a mention by a friend maybe — but there must have been a reason I got hold of a copy a good while back and added it to the reading pile.
In general, I’ve been reading at a punishing rate recently, for something else I am doing, and have pushed myself too far into stress and fatigue. I have also been trying to take care of myself after experiencing a long period of burnout through November 2023 to this January. I’m not always the best judge of how far I am pushing myself and I can become deeply absorbed in my research and work, so taking a ‘rest’ inside a different book felt like a good thing to do. I am not finding the book as restful an experience as I imagined, however.
The book discusses how we use time — how use of time, or expectations of time, especially ‘free time’, are perceived in a capitalist society. I have been working on my own expectations of time for decades — when I was younger, I was incredibly busy, raising my young son and managing all the drudgery of the household while juggling unfulfilling, low-paid jobs (and I don’t mean to convey that I think I am special or super-heroic for doing what so many of us have to do in order to survive — I also acknowledge the privilege of parenthood, having a home and being able to just about physically cope with the workload back then).
My sense of self as artist / poet / creative had dwindled to almost nil, so I began to fight every day for a small allowance of time in which I could create. I learned to secrete little bundles of just-begun and half-finished projects here and there — a bag with embriodery in it behind the sofa, a watercolour palette, some brushes and a sketchpad on top of the plates in the kitchen cupboard, a notepad and pen in my handbag for whenever I was on the bus. You get the idea. I designed my creative stashes so that after I had peeled the potatoes and set them to boil, I could add a little more to a painting I had begun. After the housework was done I could grab the embriodery and manage even ten minutes before having to set off for work. During my fifteen minute or half-hour breaks at work, I could scribble down poem ideas — sometimes, when I didn’t have paper handy, I scribbled on my bare thigh when on the loo. I found it suprising what could be managed in these times. I was also endlessly frustrated that I had to pack everything away when ideas were flowing, and I dreamed of the lottery win that would buy me time. In this way, I passed the first fifteen years of my son’s life.
“Think for a moment of the things you do now that leech away your life and pay you back by leaving you feeling flat and depleted (p.14),” writes Wallman. Fifteen years ago, I would have focused on turning my anger towards things like the laundry, or a soul-destroying job, or duty, and blamed them for what I thought was my inability to ‘manage’ time. I hadn’t received my autism diagnosis then, and I didn’t know why I was struggling within my life so much. I blamed the fact that I was eternally struggling on myself. Now, I know that it’s not so simple. I don’t want to lose time to chronic fatigue, or to shivering beneath a blanket in pain, or to massive burnout, but I can’t simply rid myself of these things — it’s not as simple as switching Social Media off and hour earlier than ususal and getting on with something more productive.
I feel myself having arguments with this book, so I may have to lay it to one side. I didn’t mean to hijack my own post with these thoughts, but if The University of the Self is about learning, then I wish to share the things I have learned, in case they help someone else feel less alone in the world.
The introduction to this book advises us “that if you want to have a successful life, you should focus on experiences (p. 26).” I am now wondering what ‘a successful life’ is defined by, as we are all so very different in our definitions. There is no one-size-fits-all. But I do love some experiences, like the ones where I have been able to create, and subsequently write about here, in my Substack room. Some experiences I don’t love so much, but how do you prevent those ones happening to you when they are out of your control? Phrases like “Toughen Up, Buttercup (p.27)” make me want to crawl under a weighted blanket. Perhaps I am not the target audience for this book. Perhaps I am completely wrong.
I also have this unhappy sense that my hands are becoming increasingly unwilling to work as I wish them to. They are swollen, painful and stiff. My knuckle joints bruise. My grip is unreliable and I drop so many things now, or can’t hold them as tightly. Making a journey ‘out there’ leaves me needing much time to recover afterwards. I can’t work at the same rate as I used to and I feel driven to keep on creating, and having as many ‘experiences’ as possible, in case a time comes when I cannot.
You never know what someone has been through, or is going through — someone percieved as having more than their fair share of ‘experiences’ when compared to another person might have their own complex reasons for doing so. They might have gone without such experiences for many years themsleves. We can never truly know each other’s unique lives. This is something it has taken me many years to learn and I make apologies for any past assumptions I have made, or in the future, might make. Being human is a tough road to take, and the real villain here is the capitalist machine that chews up our lives, our hopes, our creativity and our time.
Am I any more time-rich, now that the juggling of the toughest years of family with part-time jobs has been exchanged for increased issues with physical and mental health and loss of income as I also try to ‘make it’ as a creative person, by utilising the skills I have? I am, but life is far from a bed of roses. Have I just got better and better at driving and pushing myself? I still cannot break those habits that I set into the stone of myself all those years ago — those habits drive me to create whenever or wherever possible, and I deal with their aftereffects, well, after.
Whatever the answer might be, these lessons of disclipline have stayed with me.
Maybe I should continue reading the book, or else how can I give it a fair chance? Maybe Wallman will go on to answer my many questions. I have also now begun reading the book Disability Visibility, edited by Alice Wong and all I can say right now is Disability Visibility has, so far, made me cry with joy / emotional release three times already, as the power of the words inside have made me feel included, understood and a whole lot less lonely. Moments like this one —
“My rage is supposed to be small. Manageable. Pretty. I am supposed to fold it down, make it something to consume…I am a disabled woman. I have learned to suppress, to fold, to disappear. When I fold down my rage, I fold down myself. I make myself smaller, prettier, easier to consume (How to Make a Paper Crane from Rage, by Elsa Sjunneson, p.135, from Disability Visibility, edited by Alice Wong).”
Time and How to Spend It has, so far, left me feeling more lonely, more confused and worried that yet again, I am misinterpreting something and failing to understand it, or that I am failing at life. No, I don’t mean to speak against someone’s book — mine is one droplet of opinion in an ocean of opinions and what doesn’t work for me might be incredibly valuable for someone else. I already knew that having a good experience can make you feel happy, and not so good experiences vice versa. How do we bypass bad experiences when so many of them are out of our control? Maybe there are going to be chapters later on, for example, about the effects of mental and physical health, abuse, disability , being a carer, or having to work so hard just to survive, on our available portions of free time. I will press on with it for a while, in case. I may be massively over-thinking. Thinking is learning. Learning is something that I love, as lessons (especially the ones learned the hard way) are making me into a more informed human being, bit by bit.
I must apologise for that digression. It was thinking about remaining open to new experiences when possible that sent me off topic. To that topic I now return. Through my wonderfully supportive friend GL, I was offered a place on 6-day glove puppet workshop at the Hancock Museum as part of the Moving Parts Arts Puppets on the Green Festival. It turned out a friend of G’s couldn't attend and wished to donate their ticket to someone, and did G know anyone who might like to use it? And G thought of me. What an incredible double kindness! The course was being run by the amazing Raven Kaliana, who is just phenonenal. I fully acknowledge the privilege of being able to attend this workshop. In the end, I couldn’t manage day 6, as by day 4 I was struggling. Day 5 I was wiped out but also so happy to be there. I really did use up all of my spoons and then some.
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At first, I didn’t know whether to accept the offer, as I had never thought of puppet making. I worried that I would feel a bit of a fake being there, not being a puppet person (though I have always loved them, and dolls and such, and find them so very emotive). How could I know what I would learn? I reminded myself that I have built up some solid making / craft skills over the years, so I wouldn’t be too uncertain there.
There were four more people in the workshop, all with much puppet experience, but they, as well as the tutor Raven, were some of the kindest, most generous people I have met, and they wholeheartedly welcomed me in. We were asked to describe the character we wanted to make, and say a little bit about their backstory. I had chosen Amy March from Little Women, the book by Louisa May Alcott. Amy March has always seemed a complex character, and I never got over the part where she burns her sister Jo’s precious manuscript! I also wondered often about Amy being the one who was taken to Europe, and being the one who marries Laurie, instead of her sister Jo. In an ideal world, I would have made both Amy and Jo. Maybe, sometime in the future I will. Amy was always worried about her nose, and used to keep a peg upon it. I sensed an complex aspect to her, in the vengeful burning of her sister’s manuscript, and wanted to play on these parts of Amy when I made my puppet.
“You know something about it, and you'd better tell at once, or I'll make you." And Jo gave her a slight shake.
"Scold as much as you like, you'll never see your silly old book again," cried Amy, getting excited in her turn.
"Why not?"
"I burned it up." (Converstaion between Amy and Jo in Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott)
I also wanted to have some fun and not take myself so seriously, as at the same time I was also going through some pretty serious stuff (an interview, which I may or may not discuss some time later). Sometimes I need reminding that creativity is also fun, that I have not been, nor cannot ask to be perfect at everything I do, so perhaps their is a little of myself in the puppet too.
I took my trusty old shopping trolley, filled with as much as I could think of — fabric scraps, threads, buttons, wadding, a roll of calico, beads, wool, trim, some books about doll making and dressing (all of which came from my years of squirelling second-hand from car boot sales and charity shops), scissors, needles and pins. I didn’t have a pattern for my Amy — I thought I would visualise a basic head and see where it took me.
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Image description 1) Some plain pieces of cream calico are stitched ‘wrong sides’ together with a needle and dark grey thread, as I begin to make the head. I used that contrasting colour thread so that it would show through a little, adding to the home-made look. The March sisters didn’t have a lot of money and had to make their own amusements, and I wanted my puppet to echo this, almost as if one of them had made it themselves. The head pieces lie on top of more calico and paper. Scattered around
are small gold scissors and a silver metal tin of pins.
Image descritption 2) The cream calico head has been turned right way out and filled with wadding. It sits upon more cream calico, a pencil, tape and sewing parephenalia. I have drawn some grey pencil lines to mark where the nose and eyebrows will go. I have also taken a piece of wooden skewer and wrapped it with pink wool to pad it out. It rests on the head as it will form the nose. I wanted the nose to look very prominent, as it was a feature of much obsession to Amy.
Image description 3) The cream calico head sits upon more cream calico, a pencil, tape and sewing parephenalia. The nose has been sewn underneath the calico. I have also sewn two small pieces of skewer underneath the calico to form the eyebrows. I sewed over them with black thread.
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Image description 4) The cream calico head now has a prominent nose, and two eyebrows sewn with black thread. I then took two small pom-poms from my scrap trim and sewed them underneath the calico to make Amy’s eyes. I then painted the eyes white with blue iris, then black pupils with a tiny white dot of light in each. I then shaded the sockets of the eyes with black paint. In the background is sewing parephenalia.
Image description 5) The cream calico head now has a prominent nose, two round eyes and two eyebrows sewn with black thread. The eyes are blue. I sewed long, messy black eyelashes around the eyes. I painted a pink heart shape on each cheek. I have made my puppet a mouth, with lips formed from piched-up lengths of the lose calico at the bottom of the face. I have painted the lips pink, and painted teeth into the gap within the lips. I have placed a brown cardboard tube in her neck to act as support. In the background is sewing parephenalia.
Image description 6) The cream calico head now has a prominent nose, two round blue eyes, two eyebrows sewn with black thread, long, messy black eyelashes around the eyes, a pink heart shape on each cheek, a pink-lipped mouth and white teeth. On top of Amy’s head, I have begun to sew a high pompadour in pink wool. There is a brown cardboard tube in her neck to act as support. In the background is a blurred classroom / window and sewing parephenalia.
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Image description 7) The cream calico head now has a prominent nose, two round blue eyes, two eyebrows sewn with black thread, long, messy black eyelashes around the eyes, a pink heart shape on each cheek, a pink-lipped mouth and white teeth. On top of Amy’s head is a high pompadour in pink wool. There is a brown cardboard tube in her neck to act as support. Amy’s head and neck are laying upon the table. I have begun to sew pink wool threads to either side of her head. Next to her head are two bunches of long pink wool threads and two long pink wool plaits. In the background is sewing parephenalia.
Image descriptions 8, 9, 10) The cream calico head now has a prominent nose, two round blue eyes, two eyebrows sewn with black thread, long, messy black eyelashes around the eyes, a pink heart shape on each cheek, a pink-lipped mouth and white teeth. On top of Amy’s head is a high pompadour in pink wool. I have rolled up three plaits into buns and sewed them to either side of her head and one on the back. Two straight lengths of plait with long loose ends are sewn to the sides of her head. One plait is attached to the back of her head in a loop. Beneath that is a long loose bunch of pink wool. She has a parting in the hair on the back of her head which I have deliberately made wonky, to give her more character (I can never perfectly part the back of my hair either!). In picture 8, Amy is turned face-on to the camera. In picture 9, Amy is turned to the right. In Picture 10, Amy is showing the back of her head. In the backgrounds are a blurred classroom / window and sewing parephenalia.
Amy now has a very, very fancy hairstyle, which I very much enjoyed making — I think you can tell! I also think that I have written quite a long article her (with my digression), so I shall not ask for any more of your precious time right now. I will carry on Amy’s story in another post soon.
I hope you enjoyed reading my latest article. Thank you so much for spending some time here with me.
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