by Susan Hutton
by Susan Hutton
When the inventor Lewis Miller and the Methodist Bishop John Heyl Vincent started a summer instructional program for Sunday school teachers in 1874, they could not have known it would be the beginning of a social movement that would span more than 50 years. By the beginning of the twentieth century, the outdoor religious instruction the men had started in Chautauqua, New York, had evolved into the Chautauqua Movement—a kind of secular summer school that brought prominent intellectuals, artists, politicians, and scientists to small towns and rural communities across the United States.
Chautauqua communities hosted lectures and offered classes on language and music and art. Some Chautauquas developed correspondence courses and awarded certifications to those that successfully completed them. At the height of the movement, 10,000 Chautauquas in 45 states began to democratize the education and artistic training that had long been the preserve of wealthy families, helping to usher in the social and cultural reforms initiated by the end of the Civil War.
When Ali Winski DeJohn (A.B. 1994) founded the Makerie in 2010, she entered this tradition of lifelong learning. The very first Makerie retreat DeJohn hosted was held at a Chautauqua in Boulder, Colorado. Since then, the Makerie has hosted creative retreats around the country and different parts of the world where people learn to work within a variety of artistic mediums—hand-stitching, letterpress printing, visible mending, paper flower arts, and many more—from highly skilled artisans who are recognized in their fields.
The common thread between these artistic adventures? Making something with your hands.
“Working with our hands is a way to slow down the pace of our busy days and ultimately our lives,” she explains. “We are asked to move at a pace that none of us can really handle, but when we work with our hands, stitching or drawing, we begin to return to where we are right now. Our hands can guide us back to ourselves in a way that few other things can.”
When the inventor Lewis Miller and the Methodist Bishop John Heyl Vincent started a summer instructional program for Sunday school teachers in 1874, they could not have known it would be the beginning of a social movement that would span more than 50 years. By the beginning of the twentieth century, the outdoor religious instruction the men had started in Chautauqua, New York, had evolved into the Chautauqua Movement—a kind of secular summer school that brought prominent intellectuals, artists, politicians, and scientists to small towns and rural communities across the United States.
Chautauqua communities hosted lectures and offered classes on language and music and art. Some Chautauquas developed correspondence courses and awarded certifications to those that successfully completed them. At the height of the movement, 10,000 Chautauquas in 45 states began to democratize the education and artistic training that had long been the preserve of wealthy families, helping to usher in the social and cultural reforms initiated by the end of the Civil War.
When Ali Winski DeJohn (A.B. 1994) founded the Makerie in 2010, she entered this tradition of lifelong learning. The very first Makerie retreat DeJohn hosted was held at a Chautauqua in Boulder, Colorado. Since then, the Makerie has hosted creative retreats around the country and different parts of the world where people learn to work within a variety of artistic mediums—hand-stitching, letterpress printing, visible mending, paper flower arts, and many more—from highly skilled artisans who are recognized in their fields.
The common thread between these artistic adventures? Making something with your hands.
“Working with our hands is a way to slow down the pace of our busy days and ultimately our lives,” she explains. “We are asked to move at a pace that none of us can really handle, but when we work with our hands, stitching or drawing, we begin to return to where we are right now. Our hands can guide us back to ourselves in a way that few other things can.”
The concept for the Makerie was borne out of DeJohn’s own experience at a retreat she attended during a turning point in her own life.
After a 15-year career in event planning, she decided to stay home with her two young babies. “I was grateful to spend this precious time with my children and loved being defined as a mom,” she says. “But at the same time, I realized there are many aspects to who we are and I didn’t want to forget or give up the other important pieces of myself.”
When she started to see notices about an art retreat, she began having an internal dialogue about going. The retreat, hosted at an old campground on an idyllic lake, offered workshops on various crafts that were led by accomplished artists and designed for the everyday person. As DeJohn struggled to decide whether she was “talented” enough to go, a tiny voice said yes.
“I walked in and thought, ‘What am I doing here?’” DeJohn recalls. “I didn’t know anyone, and wasn’t sure I deserved to be there. But as I started to choose yarn in a color palette I loved or to draw a particular pattern, I felt deeply connected to my creativity and myself. I realized I could be a great mom and also honor the creativity that was an essential part of myself and my happiness.”
The epiphany stuck, and the immense joy she felt made her want to design such experiences for others. She wanted to recreate the parts of the retreat that she loved, and to add in elements she felt were missing, like dedicated time for self-care and nourishing meals. When the Makerie opened its doors, she was ready to guide people through them.
The concept for the Makerie was borne out of DeJohn’s own experience at a retreat she attended during a turning point in her own life.
After a 15-year career in event planning, she decided to stay home with her two young babies. “I was grateful to spend this precious time with my children and loved being defined as a mom,” she says. “But at the same time, I realized there are many aspects to who we are and I didn’t want to forget or give up the other important pieces of myself.”
When she started to see notices about an art retreat, she began having an internal dialogue about going. The retreat, hosted at an old campground on an idyllic lake, offered workshops on various crafts that were led by accomplished artists and designed for the everyday person. As DeJohn struggled to decide whether she was “talented” enough to go, a tiny voice said yes.
“I walked in and thought, ‘What am I doing here?’” DeJohn recalls. “I didn’t know anyone, and wasn’t sure I deserved to be there. But as I started to choose yarn in a color palette I loved or to draw a particular pattern, I felt deeply connected to my creativity and myself. I realized I could be a great mom and also honor the creativity that was an essential part of myself and my happiness.”
The epiphany stuck, and the immense joy she felt made her want to design such experiences for others. She wanted to recreate the parts of the retreat that she loved, and to add in elements she felt were missing, like dedicated time for self-care and nourishing meals. When the Makerie opened its doors, she was ready to guide people through them.
The teachers at the Makerie retreats are esteemed artisans and educators whose task is to teach retreat participants new creative skills within a framework of freedom and play. DeJohn hopes that attendees leave her retreats with the knowledge that creativity is universal.
“Using our creativity to explore unfamiliar realms in a safe environment is one of the most valuable experiences we can have. Whether we consider ourselves creative or not, whether we work in a creative profession, abundant opportunities come from igniting our creative selves: solving problems, navigating a difficult relationship, or even designing a product,” she says. “When we use our hands, we find a fresh way to access different parts of our mind. We can sometimes even discover a part of ourselves we didn’t know we had.”
A Makerie retreat might be structured around nurturing new creative skills, but DeJohn hopes participants leave feeling like their whole selves have been nourished too. By providing healthy meals and gently introducing practices of self-care, DeJohn creates an environment in which such learning can happen in a meaningful way. Along with a new technique to glaze a pot or learning how to use a punch needle, participants get to experience connection with a community, practice patience with their imperfections, and discover the value of play.
The teachers at the Makerie retreats are esteemed artisans and educators whose task is to teach retreat participants new creative skills within a framework of freedom and play. DeJohn hopes that attendees leave her retreats with the knowledge that creativity is universal.
“Using our creativity to explore unfamiliar realms in a safe environment is one of the most valuable experiences we can have. Whether we consider ourselves creative or not, whether we work in a creative profession, abundant opportunities come from igniting our creative selves: solving problems, navigating a difficult relationship, or even designing a product,” she says. “When we use our hands, we find a fresh way to access different parts of our mind. We can sometimes even discover a part of ourselves we didn’t know we had.”
A Makerie retreat might be structured around nurturing new creative skills, but DeJohn hopes participants leave feeling like their whole selves have been nourished too. By providing healthy meals and gently introducing practices of self-care, DeJohn creates an environment in which such learning can happen in a meaningful way. Along with a new technique to glaze a pot or learning how to use a punch needle, participants get to experience connection with a community, practice patience with their imperfections, and discover the value of play.
A retreat, by definition, is a secure, protected place. In the retreats that DeJohn designs, the participants foster a community based on the support, encouragement, and trust that becomes a source of safety and security over the course of the retreat, which can be as short as an afternoon or as long as one week. “Sitting next to someone, making things together, opens a special little window between you,” she says. “You see the colors they choose, the kinds of designs they’re drawn to, and you learn things about them without exchanging any words.
“Taking risks and finding the courage to try new things with a community’s support behind you—these are lessons that transfer to other parts of people’s lives.”
Feeling connected can also help you recognize the importance of imperfection. “We feel pressure to have everything around us seem perfect—to be the perfect parent, to have the perfect job, to always be balanced and have it all together, and to have a great meal on the table at the end of the day,” she says. But there is no better way to highlight and embrace your imperfections, she laughs, than when you’re doing hand work.
“You're not always going to apply the correct amount of pressure when printing by hand or always make a perfect stitch,” she continues. “Accepting and even celebrating imperfection helps us reveal our humanness. Our hands can put that awareness in motion, and it’s fascinating to watch. To see the way people transform from the beginning of a three-day retreat to the point when they’re ready to leave is remarkable.”
A retreat, by definition, is a secure, protected place. In the retreats that DeJohn designs, the participants foster a community based on the support, encouragement, and trust that becomes a source of safety and security over the course of the retreat, which can be as short as an afternoon or as long as one week. “Sitting next to someone, making things together, opens a special little window between you,” she says. “You see the colors they choose, the kinds of designs they’re drawn to, and you learn things about them without exchanging any words.
“Taking risks and finding the courage to try new things with a community’s support behind you—these are lessons that transfer to other parts of people’s lives.”
Feeling connected can also help you recognize the importance of imperfection. “We feel pressure to have everything around us seem perfect—to be the perfect parent, to have the perfect job, to always be balanced and have it all together, and to have a great meal on the table at the end of the day,” she says. But there is no better way to highlight and embrace your imperfections, she laughs, than when you’re doing hand work.
“You're not always going to apply the correct amount of pressure when printing by hand or always make a perfect stitch,” she continues. “Accepting and even celebrating imperfection helps us reveal our humanness. Our hands can put that awareness in motion, and it’s fascinating to watch. To see the way people transform from the beginning of a three-day retreat to the point when they’re ready to leave is remarkable.”
Like everyone, DeJohn has struggled to find a way to work and feel connected in a virtual world. At the outset of the pandemic, hosting Zoom retreats didn’t interest DeJohn since the physical spaces where she hosts her retreats play an essential role in the experience. So DeJohn borrowed a page from her own book and started to play with the possibilities of Zoom.
She offered a free online series of hour-long ‘Playful Pauses’ last summer, inviting an hour of creativity, play, and self-care. In January, she designed a three-day online retreat, ‘Stitching Together Kindness,’ where three different artists who lived in different parts of the world each led one day of instruction. She came to realize that even in a virtual world, the combination of an arts activity, an ethos of play, and practicing an element of self-care still nourished a very contemporary human need.
“Zoom cannot replicate real life,” she says, “but we can still have a shared experience, one where it’s possible to sense a human touch even through a screen.” DeJohn looks forward to hosting retreats on location once it’s safe to gather again in person, but she’s also discovered that Zoom can offer experiences that are difficult to recreate in person. She believes those new experiences are here to stay.
Connecting to yourself through your creativity, encouraging a sense of play, and caring for yourself with kindness are fairly simple experiences, DeJohn says. Though it may take tackling a new craft and the duration of a retreat to internalize them, it takes very little time to put them into practice in your everyday life.
“While I’ve been spending more time at home during the pandemic, I’ve been looking around my own house, trying to figure out how to have different experiences, which is an important source of joy for me. It can feel like Groundhog Day—having the same day over and over,” she confides, “so I lean on my creativity to make something different in a tiny, simple way. I could set the table differently, or find an item I’ve stopped noticing and put it in a different place to find a new appreciation for it.”
By way of example, she holds up a small orange she takes from a bowl on her table. “This little satsuma has leaves that look like the sail of a ship. In the grocery store, I made a tiny, creative moment by choosing this one because I loved the shape of its leaf. Our days are full of possible connections to our creativity that we don’t even realize are right at our fingertips,” she says. “They don’t require fancy materials or even large amounts of time. These moments are waiting for us to find them as we discover a different way of looking at things.”
Like everyone, DeJohn has struggled to find a way to work and feel connected in a virtual world. At the outset of the pandemic, hosting Zoom retreats didn’t interest DeJohn since the physical spaces where she hosts her retreats play an essential role in the experience. So DeJohn borrowed a page from her own book and started to play with the possibilities of Zoom.
She offered a free online series of hour-long ‘Playful Pauses’ last summer, inviting an hour of creativity, play, and self-care. In January, she designed a three-day online retreat, ‘Stitching Together Kindness,’ where three different artists who lived in different parts of the world each led one day of instruction. She came to realize that even in a virtual world, the combination of an arts activity, an ethos of play, and practicing an element of self-care still nourished a very contemporary human need.
“Zoom cannot replicate real life,” she says, “but we can still have a shared experience, one where it’s possible to sense a human touch even through a screen.” DeJohn looks forward to hosting retreats on location once it’s safe to gather again in person, but she’s also discovered that Zoom can offer experiences that are difficult to recreate in person. She believes those new experiences are here to stay.
Connecting to yourself through your creativity, encouraging a sense of play, and caring for yourself with kindness are fairly simple experiences, DeJohn says. Though it may take tackling a new craft and the duration of a retreat to internalize them, it takes very little time to put them into practice in your everyday life.
“While I’ve been spending more time at home during the pandemic, I’ve been looking around my own house, trying to figure out how to have different experiences, which is an important source of joy for me. It can feel like Groundhog Day—having the same day over and over,” she confides, “so I lean on my creativity to make something different in a tiny, simple way. I could set the table differently, or find an item I’ve stopped noticing and put it in a different place to find a new appreciation for it.”
By way of example, she holds up a small orange she takes from a bowl on her table. “This little satsuma has leaves that look like the sail of a ship. In the grocery store, I made a tiny, creative moment by choosing this one because I loved the shape of its leaf. Our days are full of possible connections to our creativity that we don’t even realize are right at our fingertips,” she says. “They don’t require fancy materials or even large amounts of time. These moments are waiting for us to find them as we discover a different way of looking at things.”
This year, SAS looks a bit different. They made their open houses virtual using a platform called Stellarium that lets people see the night sky anywhere in the world. SAS members give presentations on topics like galaxies and black holes via Zoom. The annual graduate panel was held virtually, and tutoring services have continued online. Liu even virtually visited a first-grade classroom. “We made a kid-friendly presentation about space and planets,” he says. “The kids were very engaged, and I was really surprised by how much some of them already knew about space. It was very cute. The whole thing worked surprisingly well over Zoom.”
Sherk, who has been an SAS member since his very first semester at LSA, says that the fall of 2020 was one of SAS’s best semesters because of the connection between members and the club’s willingness to try new things. “We’re really focusing on the positive side of things and what makes our organization unique.”
By prioritizing community during a crisis, SAS has supported its members’ well-being and offered space to celebrate their love of astronomy. Appreciating the complexity of the universe motivates them to stay connected. “Humans are excellent at fighting each other over differences,” says Liu. “But at the end of the day, compared to the vast universe, we’re all human. We’re all here on earth together.”
LSA Dean Anne Curzan on the planned fall reopening of campus, lessons learned from a challenging year, and the transformative power of the liberal arts.
LSA is asking big questions about tiny things and changing how we look at the world.
The Department of Afroamerican and African Studies celebrates a major milestone—and looks to the future.
College has looked a lot different this year for first-year students like J.J., with many courses and activities meeting online. The LSA Annual Fund provides support for tuition, room, and board, as well as the technology and tools necessary to connect to classes and campus. Your support means LSA students won’t miss a beat.
| Release Date: | 05/10/2021 |
|---|---|
| Category: | Alumni |
| Tags: | LSA; LSA Magazine; Social Sciences; Susan Hutton; Levi Stroud; Emma Bumstead |
