Seeds of Change, Part 5. Living Threads

Teresa

It is time I properly introduce you to the woman who drew me in with her fingertip. She formally goes by Teresa Acevedo Robinson. And though Acevedo is officially her middle name, it is also her mother’s last name. Her mother is from Buenos Aires, Argentina. Her father from New Jersey. But Teresa was born in Sao Paulo, Brazil and spent the first 10 years of her life speaking as much Portuguese as she did English and Spanish. When she was 10 her family moved to Connecticut and she saw snow and learned to survive without tropical fruit on the table every day. In later years, perhaps taking momentum from her multicultural origins, she studied international community development and has spent much of her life traveling. She has worked in China and Ecuador, spent two rough years in El Salvador with the Peace Corps and has been all over this globe. 

But I didn’t know any of this when I met her. I just knew she had really bright eyes and laughter that came very easily. And I knew that she sold beautiful, hand-made, natural fiber textiles. That’s why she was at the big textile event in Mexico city where we met. She had a booth filled with soft textiles in subdued, natural colors. In the middle of that legendary 2-hour first date that actually lasted 45 hours, she gave me the gift of a soft, long, grey-brown scarf made of hand-spun, natural colored yak wool from Nepal. I’d never touched yak before. It’s like a more rustic version of cashmere and it has hugged my neck for most of this chilly winter.  

Teresa’s work for the last ten years has been curating a collection of luxurious handmade products using natural materials, ancestral techniques and innovative design processes from around the world. She has sold these at trunk shows and events around the country, telling those who were interested in hearing about the quality and value of things hand-made and well paid for. What a difference it makes to be an artisan working from home and earning a decent living versus someone working in a production textile factory in poor conditions with lousy pay. Or how clean the lifecycle is of things made of natural materials. Her elegant company is called Nuraxi, named after an ancient trading post on the island of Sardinia.

Unlike me, her company was not destroyed by Covid. But it was considerably altered. No more gathering at events, no more trunk shows, no more flying around the country. So over the course of the last 12 months she has developed her website more to make web commerce possible. But, she says, she finds little satisfaction in the digital world. For her the joy is interacting with people, seeing them touch one of the merino wool cloud blankets from Argentina and sighing. 

Those of you who know I ran tours focused on indigenous textiles in Mexico and Peru or know I photographed and wrote a book all about community fashion in Oaxaca will recognize that between textiles, cultural diversity, and travel, Teresa and I have quite a few things in common!

Hand spun yak scarf

A Little Office

So a few weeks after moving to Santa Fe,   Teresa decided she ought to rent a little space where she could store her boxes of inventory and set up a simple office. She responded to an ad on Craigslist to look at an office space on Lena St. Being new to Santa Fe, we didn’t know a lot about the town, but we knew where Lena St was because that’s where a tasty and hip coffee house called Iconik was with outdoor seating and dappled light. Across the street from it was a shop that made artisanal sourdough bread with a fancy name: The Bread Shop. Next to it was a pottery studio and in the fashionably rusted, corrugated tin buildings it looked like there were artist studios, therapist offices and maybe even residences. Kind of a cool street. So why not go check out an office space there? 

Well, the office space was a total fizz. Too small, dim light, boring carpet and creatively asphyxiating. ...I should include an important note here about Teresa, if we each are born with a super power, her’s is to create and exist in spaces of beauty. For example, when I first walked into her apartment in LA way back in March of last year, I had the feeling that I was walking into a kind of temple. The light, the smell, the warmth, the simple elegance of everything in the space, and most of all, a kind of serene energy.  

The landlord, a bright and fun woman who seemed to resonate with Teresa said, I’ve got another place a bit larger you might like, and she took Teresa to a warehouse that had been a metal shop with a big, glass garage door, 20 foot ceilings, big, empty walls,, an industrial heater hanging from the ceiling, a little kitchenette, a utility sink in the bathroom and a loft space. It was a mess with paint splatters all over the concrete floor, machinery and detritus scattered around and stains on the walls. Total overkill for a little office space and a place to store 10 boxes of merchandise.  Teresa took it all in with those super power eyes, looked out the garage door and saw the coffee shop called Iconik  and the bread  shop called The Bread Shop and about three minutes later was on the phone with me saying, “Hey, do you want to rent a warehouse with me and make something happen”? 

Two blog posts back I spoke of the silence and open blue sky that resulted from the cataclysm of that huge tree falling in the forest. I wrote that I listened and heard the bright fire of my soul singing: “Let your creativity be your guide, well connected to your heart, your ancient longings, and the rich experiences you’ve had in your life. Explore, be among the rooted, old-time people, learn, make photos, write, share, give of yourself and tell stories of beauty that uplift humanity. This is good medicine.  Blow kisses to the universe.”

My dearest dream at this point in my life is to be a photographer who can tell meaningful stories with images and words about what is rich, nourishing and beautiful in rooted humanity. Covid’s gift, as I’ve described in this story, has been to blow apart my sensible career plan and free me to listen even more deeply to what it is I truly want to do with my time under the sun. My life has given me the gift of decades deeply involved in the world of traditional people, my rooted heroes. And over the years I have learned the art and craft of photography. To the weaver her thread and loom, to the potter her clay and fire and to me my camera and connection to a world of wise humanity. This is the calling and expression of my craftsman-artist’s soul. 

But just how to go about making a living with photography, well of that I’ve been less certain.

“Imagine it,” Teresa said on the phone, “paint the whole place white, I’ll furnish it like a home and make it beautiful and place the textiles all around it and you can print your photos...big...and hang them on the walls. There is space for desks in the back, we could even make the upstairs into a little bedroom, host artisans, do pop-ups, create gatherings, invite interior designers, open to the public a few days a week…” 

A big little warehouse, painted, mopped and ready for move in

Conjuring Dreams

We said yes and Rachel, the landlord, had the walls painted white, removed all the detritus and machinery, and by mutual agreement, left the concrete floors paint splattered. They look cool. We moved in on December 1st and have been as busy as bees, if less organized , at turning the empty space into something. In December we began, and have yet to stop, day dreaming, brainstorming and debating the whole big idea of the space. Kinda like two dancers doing improv work and moving around each other, our brainstorming sessions often start out slow, and then as we warm up, our ideas begin to flow and feed off of each other. Our shared and distinctive experiences bring a whole new kind of energy into this creative play. It is not at all a consitently easy or agreeable process, we are a bit more like a storm than a summer breeze when we get rolling. But in this way we have conjured and given gave birth to a vibrant place we have named Living Threads Studio.

This wasn’t part of either of our big plans. But then, both of us had jettisoned our big plans about 12 months ago. When one doesn’t  have clear plans, actionable lists and scheduled goals on their 6 month, 1 year and 5 year business achievement plans...well...one opens themselves up to all sorts of stumbling about and happening upon completely unexpected, and potentially fantastic experiences. 

Searching out a printer to make my photos shine brought me to the printshop of a fantastic, experienced, totally unassuming printer-photographer named Cody.  He has not only created the most beautiful prints of my work I could ever imagine, but has become a mentor and an invaluable source of insights and good conversation. And he’s only two blocks away from our new studio.  One week ago the long process of image selection (how on earth do I select just 5 images from my 200 favorites??), test prints, final prints and framing came to an end and we hung the images on the wall. He came over to help. 

Teresa has been able to put her super powers to work in a giant creative playroom, organizing and curating her beautiful collection of hand made beauties in a space that is an inviting cross between a low-key shop and a gorgeous living room. 

And though we’ve done no advertising yet, our new friends, Mayme and Jacob at The Bread Shop (oh how we’ve been enjoying their sour dough) gave us a shout out on their newsletter. Rachel the landlord knows people everywhere and loves that we have come to Lena St so she talks us up wherever she goes. Iconik coffee is close enough that when we put our hand-made open sign up on the weekends, adventuring coffee drinkers come to see what we are all about. And there are the good people we already know in Santa Fe from simply having been alive this long and done the work we’ve done. 

cloud blanket

As a result, people are showing up. And they love it! Some say they don’t want to leave. Others say the vibe feels so good. People sigh when they touch the merino wool blankets from Argentina. One after another person confuses my photos for paintings, which I absolutely love and they let themselves get lost in the large images. When it’s warm enough we open the garage door and the afternoon sun lights up the living room.  Yesterday two of our new friends and now regulars, an artist couple from Abiquiu, made a date with us and 4 of their friends. We provided wine and mezcal and finger food and we sat in the living room and shared stories and spoke of things hand-made and deeply-rooted. We are invited to show in their open studio and pop-up up at their place this summer.  

And a couple of days ago a young Nigerian-American man named Dami wandered in to see what we had going on. I told him about natural fiber textiles, hand made fabrics and photos of traditional people in Oaxaca and the conversation went from there. I offered him a seat and we chatted. Soon enough Teresa came in, returning from a coffee and afternoon snack run to Iconik and joined the conversation. A little while later another woman, who a mutual friend of ours said we should meet came in to say hi and took a seat as well. There we all sat, chatting away as the sun moved lower in the sky, painting a warm glow across the room and each of us as we sat wrapped in this space of material and human beauty. 

Dami told me that in the neighborhood of Lagos where he grew up all the kids just ran free, coming and going among the houses of their friends. People just dropped by, unannounced, to visit. He said that when his family emigrated to the US they were poor and lived in the projects in Newark, New Jersey. He said it was the same there, everyone knew each other, kids had a whole network of adults looking out for them and people dropped in, sat on the front stoop, chatted.  I told him that perhaps my favorite thing in Oaxaca was just that. Dropping in at someone’s house out of the blue, being invited in, given a seat and the gift of undivided attention and unhurried conversation. 

“I went on to study civil rights,” Dami said, “I do good work in law now. I’ve spent time in D.C. and New York with successful lawyers and motivated activists. I make a decent living now.  But you know, my happiest times were those times in Lagos and Newark, when we were all connected and close like that.” 

We went quiet for a moment, each of us in our own way feeling the truth and longing in what he’d said. Dami, whose life path has drawn him into a society that values privacy and productivity over human connection and simply being in the moment. And me, going into self-imposed exile from just that society and fleeing far to the South in search of such connection and presence. 

“Yeah”, he continued, “I miss that”. He looked out the open garage door, down Lena St, the cool air of the day’s end coming in. And he looked around at us and our big little warehouse.  “But you know what” he continued,” sitting here right now, all of that doesn’t feel so far away.” 

…………………………………………

On February 7th, 2020 I was sitting in a Starbucks in the middle of a tangle of an urban somewhere in Mexico City. 

A song came sliding in that spoke to my ears. The song was called Seeds, a quick little poem of two minutes and fifty seconds. 

The song is about seeds of possibilities of all flavors: “Seeds of rain, Seeds of passion, Seeds of grace...Seeds of sorrow, Seeds of strain, Seeds of silence… Seeds of lovers, Seeds of glory, Seeds of what’s going to happen…

Seeds of change, 

Seeds of change, 

Seeds of change”.

Living Threads Studio coming alive

And that, my friends, is the story of the journey from There to Here. It is, of course, a story without an end. Among other things, Teresa and I envision traveling the Americas creating photos and sharing stories of rooted culture, community fashion and textiles. When that happens, through photos and blogs and videos (and maybe even the occasional specialized tour) we’ll bring you along for the journey. 

In the meantime, though, come visit us in Santa Fe at the all new Living Threads Studio at 1610 D Lena St.  We aren’t there all the time, but when we are there we are present. Come in, look around, and if you have a moment, take a seat and chat. Our website is a work in progress still, but if you are on Instagram visit @living_threads_story. 

Thank you all for joining me on this year long journey in 5 blog posts!  Now I’m going to give my fingers and your eyes a rest. But I’ll have a new tale to share Thursday the 15th. If you are on the mailing list, you’ll hear about it automatically. If you aren’t on the mailing list, well, what are you waiting for?! 

Living Threads Studio is our creative home.

It’s where we, Teresa and Eric, envision our next collaborative journey and share with you our projects and inspirations. 

Our studio is a showroom, gathering space and workshop.

We showcase hand-woven, natural fiber textiles from cashmere to yak, Oaxacan pottery, and fine art documentary photography focused on traditional cultures. 

We host talks, pop-ups, visiting artisans, flower stands and meals. 

We sweep, we mop, we dust, we dream, we conjur, we play.  

Living Threads Studio is an invitation to come in, take a seat, share a cup of tea and exchange ideas and stories.