Talk through the hands
The semantics, histories, and mysteries of making
Yesterday in the movement studio, I went to the floor and started moving my right hand in a circular motion over the wood. It felt good. I enjoyed the sensations: my arm’s rotation, the wood against the flat of my palm. I felt satisfied and alive deep inside, too, like something in my core was awakening. Tears crept up. When I release into my body, often I get teary. I think my body is just relieved that I’ve returned.
I recently posted a question on social media: “What does it mean to be a maker? What does it fulfill in you?”
That release I experienced in the movement studio reflects fulfillment I’m asking about: Being present, following an inner compass, and letting whatever opens up flow on through. Some people find this in prayer or meditation. Some in moving. Some in making. Some in math. There are innumerable routes to flow. Making, traditionally, flows through the hands.
The word “maker” has expanded in recent years. During a studio visit about 10 years ago, I asked an artist how she described herself. I wanted to narrow her practice down to a medium – paint, video, metal. She said, "I'm a maker."
I knew that wouldn’t satisfy my editor.
