When I was 20 years old, a worldwide pandemic rerouted me to an organic farm in a county they say has a larger population of cows than humans. After further research, I don’t think this fact is true, but I do think it sets the scene. This entry is about the feeling of being in love with life, with the universe, and with the moment. It is also about creativity, voice, and bringing ideas into physical form. Those two concepts are not so different in this case.
There was a cohort of young people on the farm. Every day we arrived at sunrise to plant, harvest, weed, and tend to the land in rain or shine. That summer I spent a vast majority of my hours outdoors. They were the most magical months. After work we would gather somewhere and cook or swim or play music or talk until the stars arrived and the heat broke. The sun set late and everything was blooming. Sleep was restful. Somehow as the world became more divided, I found myself in a situation where love was so potent. As individuals became more circumstantially isolated, I found myself connecting with the people around me in the way I think humans are innately meant to but have gotten further away from. At that time the world collectively experienced real loss. I still grapple with the joy I found within the same container. Joy is a form of resistance I think, but that might be a topic for another day.
I saw what beauty the soil would grow when we cared for its unique ecosystem. The way squash blossoms and tomato vines emerged into thin air felt like a miracle. I laughed so much, and I was so present. I learned to see everything in a narrow depth of field. My feet were beneath me; what I was looking at was the only thing that existed.
I have always been creative and curious. I have always arranged and made things in my life in a specific way that was a true representation of myself. At that time, I was not focused on one practice. There was someone at the farm I particularly connected with at that time. I told them that I knew I was an artist, but I didn’t know what my medium was. It was a statement out of frustration. They said that the way I live is art and the way I approach life is art. I don’t think this person even thought when they spoke, they meant it and then spoke it into reality. And then they probably moved on. I continue to revisit this outlook now years later. Art is not an activity that is different from living life. It is not confined to writing and painting and dancing. Rather, it is the way we move throughout the world. It is our willingness to hear and to process. It is our ability to draw conclusions and to make decisions. At times, however, it might reveal itself physically. In short, every person is an artist. How they display their work may vary.
I read Rick Rubin’s “The Creative Act: A Way of Being” this year. Everything written was an echo of times I realized these same lessons. It is a digestible document of everything we all should be reminded of.
Creativity is not a rare ability. It is not difficult to access. Creativity is a fundamental aspect of being human. It’s our birthright. And it’s for all of us.
Creativity doesn’t exclusively relate to making art. We all engage in this act on a daily basis. (1)
Shortly after that summer on the farm, I did find “my medium.” I was finishing up college where I studied textiles. I went on to work on five more farms. Like everything we experience, living and working on these farms changed my life. A few of the farms produced fiber. Although I was quite literally making fabric structures, sewing clothing, and studying textile anthropology, I did not realize I was a textile artist. I started dyeing fabric with waste from the farms. I learned to tuft and to knit and ultimately to weave. I now consider myself a weaver and a natural dyer. Those things resonated. The more I learn, the less I know. But I do have to acknowledge that I know so much. Textiles are my main interest. I am also a yoga teacher and practitioner. My practice, learnings, and teachings are one in the same with my textile practice. I am also someone who loves to cook and to gather and to talk to people who know a lot about things I know nothing about. I love learning about the heritage that comes with all textile practices. That is what this brand is: a compilation of textile history and what it means to be a human living right now. Rather than confinement, it is freedom. It is the realization that all things are woven together.
—
I always knew I would start something. I always knew I would know when I was ready to do so.
There’s a time for certain ideas to arrive, and they find a way to express themselves through us. (11)
I have about 300 notes on my phone of ideas from the past decade. There were so many limitations that stopped me from executing this. At the same time, the idea is a collection of my experience, knowledge, and outlook as of this moment. The work could have only presented itself now. And the work will evolve with the moment.
Turning something from an idea into a reality can make it seem smaller.
It changes from unearthly to earthly.
The imagination has no limits.
The physical world does.
The work exists in both. (16)
As I get closer to launching this venture, I have moments where I ask myself why I am doing this. For whatever reason, I feel called to. I have found in my creative practices that when you begin earth-ifying the unearthly, momentum builds. You find yourself with a product that is different but more meaningful than anything you imagined. You realize what you are capable of.
Present Tense Home is my homage to the earthly. It is my release of perfection. It is my way of preserving the woven history of humanity. I will not be able to sculpt every unearthly idea into a reality. But I will breathe what I can into existence. I will tell stories of individuals, families, and communities. I will host workshops and educational conversations. I release the notion that I cannot produce physically because of the thousands of limitations. I release the fear of not being about to hold in my hands what it is I have dreamed up in my brain. I will create and share anyways. The work will exist in both forms.
Welcome to my woven world. I am so happy you are here. This is a conversation, and I look forward to engaging in the craft of discussion around presence and textiles. Textiles are history, anthropology, community, utility, and art. We are all deeply affected by them. The dialogue is open ended. Present Tense Home makes intentionally woven textile goods to help ground you and your community in the moment. I hope you gather, I hope you meditate, and I hope you expand your lens.
No worries,
Georgia
Founder of PTH
Preserving the past, innovating the future, but living in the present tense
Let’s talk: georgia@presenttensehome.com
