Craftivism Take a stand through craft (Mix Interiors)

We explore how craft – specifically mending and repair – can be used as a form of activism.  

‘Craft’ and ‘activism’ sound like they belong on opposite ends of any spectrum: feminine to masculine, introversion to extroversion, quiet and seated to shouting and marching. And yet here they are, squished together in the portmanteau ‘craftivism’ coined by writer and maker Betsy Greer in 2003. Her explanation of the term is broad: ‘Craftivism is a way of looking at life where voicing opinions through creativity makes your voice stronger, your compassion deeper and your quest for justice more infinite,’ she says. The Cambridge Dictionary offers a more precise definition: ‘the activity of using crafts to try to achieve political or social change’.

Using craft for activism pre-dates both. From banners and brooches to a handkerchief embroidered with the signatures of hunger-striking imprisoned protestors, craft played a vital part in the early 20th century suffragette movement. Hand-stitched ‘arpilleras’ (brightly coloured patchwork pictures) made by women in Chile during the military dictatorship 1973–1990 were used to build public and political pressure to help bring down Pinochet. And the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt – believed to be the largest piece of community folk art in the world – comprises approximately 50,000 gravestone-sized memorial panels, each embroidered in honour of someone who died due to AIDS. The connection between intimate, personal actions and large-scale social, cultural and political impact is what gives craftivism its power.

Whereas craftivism has overtly political aims, mending is often merely pragmatic, but nevertheless takes a stand. ‘Repair has its own form and language of activism,’ wrote artist and academic Bridget Harvey in her PhD thesis. ‘Repair-makers stand against accepted consumption practices and educational hierarchies.’ Repair  is resistance is perhaps most obviously traced to the British Make Do & Mend initiative of the Second World War, during which every darned stocking  freed up silk for parachutes. But while this was a mainstream government-led effort that (largely) united a country against a common enemy, it was in the 1980s that repair emerged as a counter-cultural form of protest.

In an anti-fashion statement, punks appropriated safety pins from their domestic context to ‘repair’ intentionally ripped clothes. The punk movement was awash with symbolism, often seemingly for no reason other than to offend, but intentionally torn clothes ‘repaired’ with safety pins challenged the idea that garments (and people) in their perfect, undamaged state were natural and that damage and repair were somehow unnatural.

In the 40-odd years since the height of punk, the needle has once again superseded the safety pin and activism in the form of repair feels gentler than the shock tactics of the 1980s. To quote artist Louise Bourgeois: ‘The needle is used to repair damage. It’s a claim to forgiveness. It is never aggressive, it’s not a pin.’ A quieter form of activism is emerging – one that is inclusive of the feminine, the introverted, and the quiet and seated – and is arguably just as effective at bringing about change. ‘We need to stop seeing protest as only being about shouting in a crowd and start having the kind of smaller conversations that actually connect fellow human beings and help to influence them gently,’ says author of How to be a Craftivist, Sarah Corbett.

Bridget Harvey’s ‘MEND MORE’ placard – made from a repaired jumper – is a literal example of repair as protest. The purple sweater is embellished with hand-stitched yellow letters that spell out ‘mend more bin less’ on one side and ‘mend more buy less’ on the other – Harvey carried the jumper on a pole during the Global Climate March in London in 2015. The jumper ‘asks people to use repair skills for practicality, resilience and resistance, and to protect the planet.’ she says. ‘But it also carries a second order message. It was something else before and now it is new; more than its graphics, its material supports its message.’

But not all craftivism is so literal. Paolo Goldstein offers thought-provoking Heath Robinson-esque alternatives to consumerism. Claudia Clare’s broken and reassembled pots tell stories of sexual violence against women and the ways in which they have  rebuilt their lives. All these acts of repair are also forms of activism – and if we let them, they might just make our voices stronger and our compassion deeper.

This article has been adapted from an excerpt of Broken: Mending and Repair in a Throwaway World (Ludion, 2023) by Katie Treggiden. Available to buy at ludion.be