My father really likes my yarnbombing. This is totally unexpected and delightful. All of us on this planet go around hoping for our parents approval so it’s very satisfying to get it for yarnbombing. All this time I could have been thinking “What would make my father really happy? I know-I’ll become a yarnbomber!”
I’m not sure what he likes about it, I am a little afraid to ask. I imagine he likes that it is very bold, that I write a lot about it and that it is often blogged and written about in newspapers. It’s a great thing to have someone you love read what you are writing and talk to you about it. A good intimacy.
So approval. To go around trying to get approval is just going to be exasperating. To do what you want and get approval is exhilarating. When I yarnbomb out on the streets I get lots of encouragement from people going by. This feels like the warm sun appearing suddenly in a field of clouds. But I also enjoy people grumpily dismissing yarnbombing as stupid on the internet. I like doing something that causes people to stop briefly and have a response.
We are looking for more energy. To love what you do gives you energy. To have other people pay attention to what you are doing adds energy. To think and talk about what you are doing adds energy. Making knit clothes is cozy and embracing, putting knitting out on a public street is explosive.
The internet feeds our desire for approval and attention. I want attention for this idea - that we can change our daily world by making it more beautiful, relaxing, personal and happy. With yarnbombing or just going outside and having a good time.
Here is a story about this yarnbomb which I put up in Charlotte over in The Fourth Ward. I was going out the door with my father , his wife and my brother so they could see me put up a piece. My nephew saw us and said definitely ” I want to go yarnbombing!’
He disappeared briefly and came out wearing a really good yarnbombing disguise-way better than mine- a hoody pulled up over his head and big dark sunglasses. As we all walked over to the pole by the fountain he gave everyone their secret yarnbombing names. I made everyone stand down the street so we wouldn’t be causing a ruckus. As I crouched in the prickly ivy sewing up the piece I looked up and saw my nephew slowly sneaking closer and closer to me. I finished sewing, pulled the yarnbomb all the way up the pole , turned around and jumped back. There was my nephew standing 2 inches away from me up on the park bench. ” I wish I could do a back flip off this bench” he told me fervently.
“Me too” I said .
Here is another blog about yarnbombing here.
And this is a very insightful essay about woman and yarnbombing here.