Future folklore: fractured?
Welcome to the fifth installment of Not Dead Yet, my monthly-ish roundup of compelling writing. I hope you’re enjoying the sunshine and also that you’ve rearranged the furniture in at least two rooms of your home by now.
In many ways, this pandemic is slamming the brakes on the arts and entertainment industries. It’s chaos for artists, but I enjoyed reading Odessa Paloma Parker‘s essay, Does Street Style Have a Future in a Post-COVID-19 World?, because it offers a bit of a silver lining.
“I noticed less creativity amongst the show goers, possibly because of the over-saturation of influencers who are paid to wear specific goods,” says Grioni about how she’s noticed street style change over the years.
Fashion and art have become too commercialized. Is this the opportunity we need to re-orient the field toward independence, creativity, and spontaneity?
The art of turning fish into leather is a fascinating read. Chloe Williams profiles several people who are rediscovering this craft, both as a way to reconnect with Indigenous practices and to create alternatives to industrial factory-made leather goods.
What’s most interesting to me is how this article spans continents and cultures, from Japanese assimilation policies, to the Smithsonian museum, to European research initiatives, to the relationship with land and water on the B.C. coast.
It’s hard to push back against the “American dream” culture of homeownership with its ideals of suburban family living. I, for one, value dense urban neighbourhoods with more public space and less private space. But trying to have a conversation with someone that doesn’t already share that worldview is usually unproductive, and ends up with two people talking past one another.
That’s why I’m so impressed with this article by Juliette Baxter, Why This Family Traded Their House For A Condo—With No Regrets. It’s written with an honest and disarming style, challenging the desire for a house with a yard, without coming across as holier-than-thou.
Springtime is coming into bloom and the sunshine feels less grey these days. On our cherished daily walks, Julia and I find delight in the ducks swimming along Schneider’s Creek, or the geese honking obnoxiously from the roof of neighbouring apartment buildings. Nature is healing.
Guillaume Rivest explores our collective wish to undo generations of human-caused destruction in his essay, A dolphin in Venice. The challenge is, we actually have to be willing to put in the work to create a better world.
Leave it to Rebecca Solnit to take a concept you thought you understood, burrow deep into it, and emerge with your understanding transformed. That’s how I feel about her meditation on crisis, ‘The impossible has already happened’: what coronavirus can teach us about hope.
A disaster (which originally meant “ill-starred”, or “under a bad star”) changes the world and our view of it. Our focus shifts, and what matters shifts. What is weak breaks under new pressure, what is strong holds, and what was hidden emerges. Change is not only possible, we are swept away by it.
This story is also available as a podcast episode, read by the author. I highly recommend going on a long walk with your headphones on, and hearing this in her own voice.
I’d love to hear what you thought about these stories. You can reply directly to this email.
The next Not Dead Yet will come in four weeks’ time. Until then, why not forward this email to a friend who’d appreciate it?
Cheers,
Sam