This morning I posted a story on Cowbird about my grandmother Ines and her account (from her memoirs) of using a rag rug loom at the Farm. I entitled it “Banging on the Loom.” While she never uses the phrase in her account, it’s how I’ve always imagined her at that loom, banging on it LOUDLY and joyfully. I love this image (and her story) so much that I’m naming the interactive documentary for The Farm, “Banging on the Loom.”
In the introduction to my i-doc, I’m planning to craft my own story to put beside my grandmother’s about the significance of this phrase. My cowbird story from this morning was a first attempt at conveying that significance. I don’t think I quite succeeded. I feel like something is missing. But, that’s okay. The process of spending time with my grandma’s account and reflecting deeply on it as I craft my own story about it is central to The Farm project.
Why do I like her account so much? I think I want to let this question persist without attempting to fully answer it now. But, I will offer one thought for today. My grandmother’s joyful (exuberant, physical, loud, playful) banging on the loom is, to me, the bold and persistent assertion of a spirited self who refuses to be silenced by the burdens of a difficult life.
This is a picture of a rag cutting bee at the Farm. Family/community women would gather together to prepare rags for the loom. My grandmother sits in front of the television. My great-grandmother Johanna is on her right.