Monday, May 2, 2011

In process: Woven (Post 8 - Andrea Marcucci)

So There are a few things I’ve been thinking about during the development of this performance……The first is how I can’t really remember a time in my life where I wasn’t with a needle and thread in my hand. I’ve tried everything from rug hooking to bead weaving to bear making and most of it I still do in my adult life. I LOVE making something 3 dimensional out of a 2 dimensional pattern. I think that’s pretty neat. I enjoy watching how the black lines on a white page turn into something that can be held, cuddled, or worn.

Then I started thinking about how much I love dancing and how there really isn’t anything left behind but a feeling, emotion, idea and yet it can be just as rewarding a therapeutic as having a tangible object at the end of all of that hard work. I’ve always used dance as a way to express the things I didn’t want to say out loud or didn’t know how to say, sometimes I have feelings or thoughts I didn’t know were in me if that makes any sense at all? In a way I guess dancing untangles my thoughts or troubles or ideas and puts them in a place (in my mind) where they can be sorted out and either put away or put to use or “woven” together to complete and idea or lead to discovery.

I also began to think about the people in my life who are/were creative. My mother is definitely. She can do pretty much anything and she has a talent for making something out of nothing! Oddly enough her mother was not artistic at all, in the traditional sense (she was an amazing cook!) My mom got her creativity from her father who was forever making something! On my father’s side, both of my grandparents were creative. They both crocheted. I have some of the beautiful things my Nona (grandmother) made - beautiful table runners and doilies. What stands out to me the most is the blanket my Nono (grandfather) made. He crocheted each of the grandchildren a blanket using hooks he had made from the sides of old glasses! There is a story here:

He was a soldier in WWII in Italy, he was taken as a P.O.W. and sent to Germany. As you can imagine the conditions were poor, very little food, and very cold. He had a pair of glasses from a fellow soldier who passed; he took them apart and carved a notch out of each of the sides making crochet hooks. He took whatever yarn he could find and crocheted socks and mittens (without a pattern) for himself and his fellow P.O.W.’s to keep warm. He also made these items for the guards who, in exchange, would look the other way while he or one of the others would sneak through a hole under the fence, into a farmer’s felid for potatoes and bring them back for food.

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