The Humble Hobby | Nina Elliott
I got hooked on fiber art while on a clinical placement for Occupational Therapy in Fredericton, New Brunswick. My days were spent at the Stan Cassidy Centre for Rehabilitation, but my evenings were free. I remember the uneasy feeling of ‘free time’; with no papers to read or write and no friends nearby, I didn’t know what to do. So, I bought a rug hooking kit and spent most of my evenings watching reality tv while hooking a rug.
This ritual of plugging into fiber art during my downtime has stayed with me. I hooked that one rug, and started experimenting with knitting, stenciling, and crochet. The common thread of these quiet leisure pursuits is how they made me feel – productive and engaged while at the same time relaxed. Creative hobbies have gotten a bad rap in recent years: we’re led to believe that if it’s not a ‘side hustle’ than what value does it bring? For me, the answer is an absolute wealth of positivity, connection, and joy.
When I moved to Twillingate, Newfoundland in 2012, I didn’t know anyone. Having just moved from England where I had a two-hour commute, I suddenly found myself with more time on my hands. This time, I turned to knitting. I knit hats and scarves and even invented a ‘base-layer’ knitted vest called the Dork (you’d never be cool in a Dork). I tried selling my knits but felt dissatisfied with the energy exchange. This is when I discovered Yarn Bombing – the art of knit and crochet graffiti.
Seeing as I knew how to knit, it felt highly accessible; it seemed mischievous yet harmless enough to try and allowed me to unplug and decompress as I stitched. I saw it as a chance to knit for everyone in my community versus just one person with a hat. I wasn’t certain how it would be received, so I knit anonymously and installed under the cover of darkness – adopting the alias, The Rock Vandal, which added to my fun!
In 2016, I took a 13 month leave of absence from work and backpacked through SE Asia with my husband. Before we left, I knit a mouse holding a sign that read “End the Rat Race”. I left knitting in each country we visited, including Thailand, Malaysia, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, often as a gift to a new friend. Looking back, my Yarn Bombs tell a tale of our adventures – an elephant in Laos, the land of a million elephants, Kundalini snakes rising up after yoga teacher training in Thailand, and a lotus flower in Angkor Wat, Cambodia gifted to some young monks. Behind the scenes, knitting was my meditation – a retreat to comfort during more than a year of unfamiliarity.
Upon return to Twillingate, I started reaching out to other Yarn Bombers and street artists about their origin stories. I was intrigued by the collective ‘start without an invitation’ attitude and dedication they showed. The advice they all shared was to have fun and trust that good things will follow. It was during these interviews that I realized that almost all Yarn Bombers crochet versus knit; so, I challenged myself to a 12 days of Christmas crochet street art challenge. I haven’t knit a stitch since!
On occasion, I put my yarn down to try something new – using spray paint to stencil a message onto a doily or spraying through it to make a mural. Last summer I fell in love with packing tape, casting my pregnant body and sharing it with the town as a life-sized street art sculpture, but I always come back to the warmth and comfort of yarn.
I often rejoice in having such a steady hobby to retreat to, particularly lately, as life amidst the pandemic stretches on. Whenever I am lonely, bored, stressed, or overwhelmed, I turn to creativity to get me through and it never disappoints. I’ll look up hours later and realize how much better I feel.
I have always been captivated by fiber and street art, and over the years, I kept pulling on threads that revealed more opportunities to be excited; I’ve interviewed fellow street artists around the world, participated in the inaugural Yarn Bombing festival in Italy, and launched Newfoundland’s 1st Outdoor Art Gallery.
For me, having a hobby has proven essential. It creates a safe space for recovery and restoration while promoting meditation, communication, and inspiration. I make art for the joy of it and the many benefits it offers, and whether I sell it or not, the practice is absolutely priceless!