I wondered what topic I would choose for my accordion book, but really it should not have taken so much brain space. Mostly because there are certain topics I keep coming back to again and again. Growing up with grandparents that were so much older than me left quite an imprint on my life. I was always told that there are things that women were supposed to know: how to cook, how to clean, how to mend, how to speak up for oneself and engage in good conversation, how to fix things around the house. There was a level of independence that I was supposed to possess, but be ready to marry also. So, I learned many things to make sure I would become a good wife and partner one day. But times have changed. I did get married, but it did not last. And while I’m in a good partnership now, men and women overall changed their attitude toward marriage and partnerships, becoming more insular I think. Dating apps certainly do not help. But the many lessons that I learned to become a good wife one day did not go to waste. I believe they simply made me a better person. Still, these are topics I cannot escape from!

As I worked on my journal, I watched a kind of documentary/days in the life of the British department store Liberty of London. I wanted to watch something light after watching a doc about Ghislaine Maxwell and Jeffery Epstein. I needed something to take my mind off the hell they inflicted upon others. And the story of Liberty of London was just what the doctor ordered.

Now, I’m not naive. When I was watching Liberty of London, I knew that the producers of the film was going to show the store in the best possible light, that the workers are just so happy to be there, that it’s the best place ever. No place is like that. Where there are people, there is dissent. But again, it was very lighthearted and incredibly sweet and positive. Not to mention beautiful to look at, the store itself is just gorgeous. But what I took away from watching it was how loyal some of the employees were and how long they worked there, how well they took care of the customers, and what high regard they had of them. That struck me as something we don’t see too often anymore. The company didn’t see the customers as simple cash cows. And I’ll go further by saying that while customers are not cash cows, workers are also not mindless work horses. Companies have decided, not all companies, but many have, that customers and workers are just dumb thoughtless animals that are not always worthy of respect. This program reminded me of times that people worked retail jobs and supported families with that salary. Again, I’m sure Liberty is not perfect, but there was a time that retail positions were real jobs for people: they took into account that they had lives and families, they offered pensions and benefits, and there was pride in the job and a respect for the customer, offering service that made people feel special. Liberty was owned by the family of the original owners from 1875 to when it was sold to a private equity firm in 2010. When I heard that the company was sold, I knew that things always change. There were people that were still working there that were hired by the descendants from the family, and they talked glowingly of that time. But usually when these private firms take over, it’s not so much about the worker anymore, but simply about the money. It’s a shame. How do people trust their employers? I think they don’t. So employees don’t care, about the brand nor the customer. Even if the program was a lot of spin, it was refreshing to see people so loyal to a business, so full of pride, that they genuinely wanted to see this enterprise succeed and last.

Maybe because of my grandparents influence, I can really appreciate that way of thinking. This respect for worker and customer alike was what I noticed built community. People kept coming back hoping to see the same salesperson year after year because it gave them a sense of belonging and familiarity. Not all customers are nasty divas, though some are, but others are thankful and kind. Companies have to decide how they want to conduct business. Everything is a choice. But it seems as though the choices being made hurt worker and patron alike.

As always, thanks for stopping by

Jos

This is sadly coming quite a bit belated, but I want to thank all those who are buying and continue to buy my journals. It has been such a surprise that there are those that still see the worth in analog writing. I really don’t take for granted any sale I make, it is truly beautiful.

One type of journal that I don’t make too often, but attracts a lot of attention, is the concertina, or accordion. It makes a big splash. It looks like a plain book, just two covers on top of one another, until you open it: and there you have this one long page spread out in front of you. Expect some some oohs and aahhs 😉 It also looks quite fancy and dramatic with its panoramic view. In some ways it’s easy to fill, and others it’s challenging. A more conventional journal with regular sewn signatures allows you to create something new with just the turn of the page. But with a concertina, flow becomes more of a consideration. I’ve already started the book, but I feel stuck mainly because of the issue of flow.

Like I stated above, the subject of the feminine, and also domesticity, the frenetic energy of the city, and large dose of humor, play a large part in my art. It’s simply who I am and the experiences that have shaped me.

I have a few ideas knocking around in my head, when I make up my mind, I’ll bring you along on the journey, and you’ll get to see real time progress in a journal!

I do allow my mind to wander during an art session. And what I’ve been thinking lately is how a large part of my personal experience involved being with my maternal grandparents, and by extension, people of their age group. If they were alive, they’d be well over one hundred years old. While there are many many lessons I took away from my time with them, one of the most important was witnessing how they handled hurt and disappointment. There was a steely and stoic manner that they exercised. Because I spent so much time with them when I was very young, I was apart of the day to day workings of their lives, so I witnessed the beauty and the stress. And when I say hurt, it would come from friends, family, the outside world, and they would still have a similar reaction. They would smile, and I would see them sort of weigh what’s in front of them, what has been discovered, or uncovered, and they would make it a point of moving forward for their best interests. This didn’t have anything to do with them being selfish, but rather coming to conclusion that many many things in this world are out of their control: whether someone loved them, whether someone agreed with them, whether someone respects them or even liked them. They took the stance where they weighed who was in front of them and how much their thoughts impacted their lives. And again, the overall conclusion was “I have no control over you, but I certainly have control over myself.” I realized as I got older was how very difficult that was, to be so stoic and pensive, and not to mention so measured. Now of course I was seeing these reactions as they were much older, so I don’t know what their lives were like when they were much younger, certainly not on a personal level, so it’s very possible that age has tempered their feelings. But does it really matter? What really matters are the lessons to be learned in the here and now, and the, in my opinion, maturity that occurs as a result. Truly not worrying about what others think, and concentrating on what I can truly control, plus weigh the ideas that are in front of me, puts me in the best position for me. People around me can weaponize all their ideas, hatred, and slights all they want, but at the end of the day, it’s me who has to live with me. So I smile, wonder how something impacts my life, and then move forward from there.

I can certainly thank the wisdom of my elders for giving me the tools towards maturity. I’m still working on it, but it’s well worth it!

And thank you for stopping by!

Jos