In today’s fast-paced world there is a strong disconnection between consumers on the one hand, and the traditional and industrial processes behind the goods that surround us. Supply chains are globalised and mostly opaque. Low costs and profit margins are prioritised over labour rights. All this contributes to the overshadowing of traditionally crafted goods by the immediacy of disposables. Central to this disconnect is the way in which we think of time as a concept and how this same conception, coupled with the value we assign to time itself, has evolved in the last couple of centuries. As participants of a capitalist system in permacrisis we frequently grapple with the trap of efficiency at all costs and the “privilege” of being able to “afford time”. This paradox subconsciously permeates our every decision — from how we eat, to how we dress, to what we choose to remember.
By Teresa Carvalheira
The Sluisdeurenloods, a historical barn located at Mediamatic, hosted a rather digestive breakout session during WDCD Live Amsterdam 2024. With the title Crafting Tomorrow: Weaving Tradition Through Innovation, the call was to embody traditional and mundane actions that could shape the future positively together. The wholesome recipe was concocted by Barbara Vos, by combining two hands-on and flavourful initiatives: Culinary Roots and The Linen Project. The choice for an external venue is justified succinctly by Barbara: “There is the space to showcase; here is the space to create!”
After being welcomed with a warm infusion, we’re invited to place ourselves back to back with a stranger, with our eyes closed and one palm extended outwards. This is Culinary Roots’ Maureen de Jong and Melissa Korn’s invitation to focus on “personal change before systemic change,” emphasising the importance of individual agency and empowerment.
What’s with the nutmeg?
Maureen’s captivating voice echoes through the space as a mysterious ingredient is placed in everyone’s reaching hands. As I familiarise myself with its gummy-like, bitter taste, I travel along its spoken geopolitics. Some perspectives and a few names are mentioned before I can gather that what I’m tasting is nutmeg.
Amitav Ghosh’s The Nutmeg’s Curse: Parables for a Planet in Crisis is mentioned to weave ecological themes together with Western colonialism. What is commonly known about nutmeg is that it is a popular spice coming from the fruit of the Myristica fragrans tree, native to the Banda islands, a former Dutch colony in today’s Indonesia. This comments on how cultural food systems for nourishment in common lands have been traded in for systems for profit on privatised land, changes caused first by colonialism and later by capitalistic technological and agricultural reforms.
Though I am slightly perplexed, no questions arise except the appetite-whetting main question for the session: how can we learn from the past so we can act now to effect change in the future? Or, in Melissa’s own words: “Can we find potential in the mundane to craft the tomorrow?”
Food demographics and dilemmas
Next, white tape is used to split the barn in two and bodies start finding their space(s) in a participatory positioning exercise, responding to questions set by Maureen and Melissa. We are asked to locate ourselves globally, after repositioning from our current residency to where our culinary roots are. “Do you feel a little bit dislocated?” prompts us to (re)think about our ancestry and how we carry such heritage in our perceived identity, simply through the food we eat and cook.
More prompts are introduced to group and divide us. “Would you rather eat bread or potatoes forever?” With this question, the barn is back to polarisation, with passionate arguments being raised on both sides.
The next question, “Would you rather eat your favourite grandmother’s dish or microwaved food for life?” introduces time as a philosophical dilemma. Participants pressure for reframing: “If the grandmother’s dish was the most delicious, would you rather cook it from scratch every day or save time by having a microwaved dinner?” It still takes time to pick a side on this last question, and another question is raised: “What if you then have more time to save the world?” Loud and skeptical reactions are heard sparking conversation on whether technological convenience can truly address global issues.
Is it only a matter of time?
One of the most engaging testimonials came from a participant calling to face technology as a facilitator that makes activities less time-consuming. She gave as an example the high-pressure steamer that reduced the cooking time of her Turkish-influenced recipes by 75%, further increasing the efficiency of an already smart meal preparation approach that seeks to balance nourishment with time. “I always design to store, like picking ingredients that stay good long enough, like olive oil-based dishes,” she concludes, leaving everyone in a slight state of awe, sparking a reconnection with memories of traditional preservation techniques as still relevant approaches for future thinking and world-building or practices for degrowth.
From the kitchen to the linen cupboard
As eating is not the only thing we must do on a daily basis, Willemien Ippel steps forward to share her vast experience as co-founder of Crafts Council Nederland and co-initiator of The Linen Project. At this point, the conversation transitions away from reconnecting with traditional practices to the natural origin of resources and the possibilities of farm-to-fork cooking. We then begin to learn about The Linen Project, presented as a pioneering seed for an embodied fibre-to-garment response to fashion’s supply chain global outcries. Although Willemien acknowledges, critically, that the project is not a solution at a global scale for fast fashion and overconsumption, it has grown in popularity since its inception in 2018, unraveling the potential for (re)emerging (local) economies.
Willemien intimately invites us to make a circle, saying: “I want to show you the love for flax in the Netherlands.” She then passes along all parts of the plant in different processing stages, along with century-old sturdy linen textiles and embroidery samples from a linen cupboard auction.
It’s worth waiting for the day the flax field blooms blue
Flax — which you may also know as the seeds you eat for breakfast — is a plant that can be turned into linen fibre through a fascinating, yet simple, process. Its blue flowers bloom for one day only and the plant is typically harvested in late summer, approximately 100 days after planting, and retted to break down the stalks. After drying, the flax is broken to release the fibres, which are then scutched to remove woody parts and hackled, a sort of combing to align the now “hairy” fibres. These prepared fibres can then be spun into yarn and woven or knitted into linen cloth to be tailored into linen garments. A complete, raw-fibre-to-finished-product process facilitated by The Linen Project Shared Stewardship community.
This model is based on the principle of commoning, in which anyone can join and participate in the different transformation phases. “If you understand the process by hand you understand the mechanical process of the industry.” The processes are similar, although the traditional method sees a large increase in manufacturing time due to its manual nature. The point is however, not its simplicity, but to offer an encompassing perspective on the true value of what we wear every day. As advice to the younger generations, Willemien exclaims “Learn a craft!” — as the next big step from asking “Who made my clothes?” is to directly engage in their making.
Revisiting ancestry for future identities
Threading into notions of dowry, the reimagination of education and generational knowledge’s transmission, Willemien gets us to “go back to the linen cupboard.” Looking at “these mending samples which were then, like portfolios are today,” as embroidery and mending were very important skills to acquire in a 1950’s girl’s education due to linen’s valuable nature.
As linen is still very valuable today, in myriad ways, Willemien concludes with the ultimate linen challenge to the audience together with Maureen and Melissa. To plant a square metre of flax — maybe in their garden — which, when harvested, depending on soil and weather conditions, “should be just enough to weave a napkin.” And when the time comes, a dinner to be organised to share everyone’s napkins — some bigger, some smaller — revealing the uniqueness and unpredictable beauty of each napkin’s production process.
After these takeaways on taking critical ownership of our roots and the task of gently nourishing ourselves, how can we extend our commitment to a shared responsibility? Inspired by the no longer utopic The Linen Project, this session ends on an inspiring note, that every choice we make daily, from food to clothes, matters. Even with something as small as a linen napkin, every step adds to collective change. And that it is in the pursuit of knowledge, both historical education and strengthening of inter- and cross-generational cultural transmission, that rests true power and the hope for a different, better future.
All images by Tom Doms and Jasper Ten Tusscher, except top image by Ellen Rooijakkers for The Linen Project.
About the author
Teresa Carvalheira is a multidisciplinary designer and upcycler interested in intersectional environmentalism and craftivism. Former community manager for Fashion Revolution Portugal, she is now focused on process-based research on the global contamination and transmission of vernacular textile practices.