Okay, let me see if I can explain it, because it comes to me so quickly. I’ll suddenly think, ‘Oh, I need to do this.’ It’s a kind of homage, because so often we’re doing things without knowing if they’re significant or not. I wanted to give some meaning to that feeling.

For example, my brother’s a father. You’re parents too. He’s incredibly creative, but he’s had to set some of his own dreams aside to raise his kids. And I think, for people who are deeply creative, that can sometimes feel like, ‘Oh, maybe that song won’t ever happen.’

But it’s not all for naught, because everything you do, especially with children, shapes something larger. You’re bringing new life into the world and guiding it forward. I think that’s the ultimate act of creation, such an incredible, often thankless, kind of work.

That has so much meaning for me. In our society, parenting is not something that we can put a dollar sign on, so we don't really know its worth. We don't know how to talk about it or how to appreciate it. But the more and more that our kids get older, we're seeing how we impact them, and then we're realizing how our parents impacted us. It's the most important work, right? And, we all the while, are hoping that they will have a positive stance towards the world and other people along the way. 

Yes, trying not to project your traumas onto them or assuming, 'Oh, you're going to be like this.'

I was going to ask whether you consider yourself a spiritual person.

Absolutely, 100%.

And where does that come from?

Since I was little, I’ve always felt like I was in the company of something, this presence saying, ‘You’re safe, you’re okay.’ It was just always there, but in a playful way, a feeling of wanting to express and simply be. And then, of course, things start to get serious once you’re socialized, once conditions and expectations set in.

Lisa 

And how does that influence your work? What are your influences right now? Or why are you beading? Let's start there.

That’s a great question. Beading started with a stain, back in Arizona when I had the shop.

And I had a little stain on a shirt. And I remember my friend gave me beads, because she was moving. There was always this thing of wanting to make stuff. At that time I was drawn to textile and clothing. It was less of a building a brand and more about art’s sake, the idea that one special piece can be made. But for a long time, that impulse got parked.

But when I got here [Porto], I thought that I would kind of carry on a little bit of Noons [Michelle’s store in in Arizona] here.

Oh, really?

I thought so. I thought I was going to try to maybe work with people here, and do a really simple online thing. But I just lost interest in commerce at that time. But I was also undoing a lot of stuff. I was going through this kind of, you know, some people say a dark night of the soul. It was more like a dark night of the ego. I don't think it's the soul. I think it's the ego that tries to override the soul. And I feel like the soul is not localized. I think it is consciousness, and it's always seeking to express. There's like this realm of ideas that are always there, as you know.

And that's in everybody.

Michelle


Yeah, I think so. But some people aren’t aware of it. I think it’s impossible not to express it, whether it’s through a meal, the way you fold laundry, or the way you practice medicine. It’s there, even in a simple conversation. It’s how we look at the world.

Some of us just have our tuners set a little closer to that frequency, more hands-on with it. You know, you might feel most at home around art, thinking, ‘This feels right.’ For me, it’s the same with nature, or being around people who are making things, or thinking deeply. That’s where I feel at home.

When you came here, did you feel like you had that community right away or did you have to slowly build that community?

No, I didn't know enough people then. And I just went to Italico [a shared studio space – where Michelle and Lisa met], people there were making things, and that felt good. I still don’t feel fully connected to a community yet, but I know it’ll evolve. It’s out there, you can feel it.

Right. You started with commissions, right? You were customizing or repairing people’s clothes?

Yes, that felt good. Not repairing, although that would be cool. It was commission-based because I wanted to make one piece at a time. The way I’d been trying to make things work just wasn’t working. So now it’s more about asking, seeing what happens, staying open. Just keeping at it as much as I can, but without too much pressure. It’s the kind of thing that doesn’t thrive under pressure.

It feels counter to the nature of handwork, which seems meditative. Sometimes I've heard people describe handwork as therapeutic to the creator. 

Yep, I would say so, at its best. There are times when it's not.

Right. Work is work.

Work can be work, for sure. But at its best, yes, and it changes you. I think it's doing something, just the repetitiveness. I think it changes your brain. It has to. It's changed mine.

How?

Prior, there was just this scatteredness. How it's possible for me to do something on repeat, I don't know. I don't understand that. Sometimes, I've tried to sit and meditate, and it's a great idea, but this is my meditation. My hands need to move or something needs to... Even feeling the pull, the tactile feeling of it. But it's not the only thing I want to do, I don't want to be beading forever. I like sculpture, something more physical.

Recently, somebody said…I wish I remembered who it was, but “the hands are the window to the soul.”

Yeah, I've heard that. You know what? There is an excellent movie Alfonso Cuarón did called “Great Expectations”, with Ethan Hawke and Gwyneth Paltrow. Have you seen that one?

I haven't.

Okay. Robert De Niro is the prisoner. You've read Great Expectations? That's my favorite Dickens book. But there's a part where young Ethan Hawke is chewing on his nails. He's just rescued this prisoner out of the water, and the prisoner says, "You chew your nails. That's not good." And the kid says, "Why?" And he goes, "Well, people say the eyes are the windows of the soul, but it's not. It's the hands."

Oh. I just got chills. 

 

So, I don't want to impose this on you but when you were talking about, you know, it's like meditation and it's something coming out when you're doing it, that sounds to me, and I have a very particular context I'm coming from, but it sounds to me like prayer.

Lisa 

Or praise I was going to say.

Yes. I was thinking — is there a connection between this and a rosary, or beads in general? I think it’s fascinating that when you start learning more, these little signs or articles appear, and you realize, oh my gosh, we’re all doing this without even knowing there’s a connection. People and cultures all over the world have their own versions of it, and it comes through in different ways. It’s probably a form of prayer.

I even have a notebook I call Loops, where I write down ideas as they come. I once thought it would be cool, not to make a rosary, exactly, but something inspired by that rhythm. It doesn’t have to be the rosary, just something that carries that quiet, meditative energy.

I feel like I should know this too. It's like 24 beads and that’s how many Hail Marys you're supposed to say?

Yes. And then you get to the end at the cross, and you're like, "I made it. I've done it!”

Lisa 

What I do love about Catholicism, because I actually got to be a witness to all these different kinds of Christian faith, because I went to Catholic school and then I was in a Protestant church for a little bit and then Evangelical, is that the Catholic Church understands that we need ritual-

And we need physical things, the body needs things. And we struggle when we separate faith or spirituality from the body.

So, when you're saying, "Oh, I just want to meditate." And then what? We have these physical bodies that love to smell beautiful perfume or the scent of a flower. We love to touch something soft or smooth and, you know, we want to see something beautiful before our eyes. Why are we separating those things from the body and just saying, "Okay, that shouldn't matter." And that cannot be true. This is who we are as human beings.

Yes. I think it helps direct our intention or ritualize our intention. It's like you said, we have this outlet and we’re using our body in a certain way instead of telling it, “sit still”. I just think it's a helper, guiding that intention.

This is why, through music, dance, appreciating a flower, it involves your senses, and a ritual comes in handy for that. More than handy, it makes it sacred, and sacred means it's special. It's separate. This is a sacred moment, separate from this chaos. I’m gonna work on this, and I make it sacred because I'm gonna separate this here.

That's beautiful. Hmm. Wow. I didn't know that this conversation was going to go this way.

Yeah. I think this is what people are actually interested in. People are returning to this kind of making because we're becoming more disembodied, and we're losing touch points that feel real.

You moved here to Portugal three years ago. Was your culture and your history informing why you went back to some handwork?' Because I know Portugal has an amazing history of handicrafts, embroidery, weaving techniques, basketry, and more. You name it, there's a really cool, deep history and tradition here. Is that influencing your work at all?

I think it's in there. For instance, this bag [embroidered bread bag]. My mom made that when she was a teen, and mom was always kind of doodling. When I was a little kid, my grandma, my mom's mom, would send a little gift when people were going back and forth from the States and Portugal. It was always these lace socks or lace underwear.