Finding my voice
...or reflecting on my relationship with words
Kaliko Journal is a free newsletter about natural dyeing, textiles, art practice, and life by Ania Grzeszek. Feel free to share parts of this letter wherever and with whomever you’d like. If you want to support my work, subscribe to this publication and/or purchase my handmade products. Thank you.
I always had this thing for words. Quite a complex relationship I guess. I always loved words with great passion. I swallowed booked by tons since I learned to read as a 5yo, reading my way throughout my childhood and adolescence. I appreciated imaginary worlds authors were building with just letters on paper and if you’d ask me what my hobby was, I would quickly say: reading. My obsession with books went so far, that I even attempted writing novels, in a combined effort with my sister and our bestie. We were 10, 12, 13? and would meet up and come up with a story, typing it into Microsoft Word and seeing our word count go up, while the characters changed and went on adventures that we hoped were our own.
I excelled at writing at school too, I was not only good at it but also enjoyed it. I never had problems putting my thoughts onto a piece of paper. A short draft, sketching a rough outline, and from there the sentences just poured, in a round and nice form. I could also dissect the writing of others with ease, interpret poems and books, understand metaphors and references.
So why is it, that words are so difficult to actually speak? See, I loved the written word but never got around to enjoying the spoken word. Even thinking about it now, I pause and stumble. I don’t know how to put this lack of words into… well, words.
Part of it is definitely growing up as a twin. First of all, when didn’t need to think much about what we were saying to each other, we had a baseline understanding of how we both tick, and communicating with each other felt effortless. Let’s call it “wordless understanding”. Actual words were not really needed. (And I am not talking about telepathy… sigh… telepathy doesn’t exist.) The other thing was communicating with others. Why speak and draw even more attention to ourselves? Even with our mouths shut, we were apparently interesting. We were identical twins, a rare occurrence. It was enough to just be. No need to compete for attention, attention was a (not always welcomed) constant.
The other part of it is, I guess, being an immigrant to another county and feeling like the words I speak don’t have as much value as I would like them to have. Learning a new language puts you in a disadvantaged position. In the beginning, all I said sounded like child-talk to me, and to this day I am very self-conscious about my accent and vocabulary (ironically, I had to google this one). I don’t feel articulate, I don’t feel like I can put my thoughts into words that are valuable. Wow. Perfectionist self-image alert! I know this is not actually true but the feeling is still there. I know we care about the connection we can build more than about the actual sentences that allow it to flourish.
So this year I am focusing on building connections. I start here. I want to connect with you, and I appreciate you letting me into your inbox. This is a very intimate relationship, where there are just two of us - me, writing my words in isolation, and you, also reading them by yourself. And this kind of communication feels both exciting—and very safe.
At the same time, I am working on developing my voice as an artist, too (though this label still doesn’t feel like it fits me). Interestingly enough, I felt the urge to work with word-based art this year. Apparently, something in me feels like I want to start speaking out. It starts slowly and quietly. But for some reason, I want to make artwork that says something in the most direct way. Maybe it’s about being understood? Sometimes inspiration strikes when I am on a train or walking my dog, a phrase pops up in my head, and I have to write it down. It makes its way to my art at some point, waiting for an image to compliment it. My voice is waking up, I am slowly letting myself not only be seen but also heard. In this process, I am admiring artists that base their visual practice around language and I am trying to understand what it is in me that wants out.
Today, I am leaving you with the first artwork featuring an actual word I made earlier this year. It explains my frustration of keeping quiet for a long time.
I am also adding examples of art-with-words I admire, and I am curious if anything on this theme comes to your mind?
If after reading all this you feel like you want to write back, know that I would appreciate it. It’s best to leave a comment under this post, but you can also simply hit “reply” to this email.
As you might have noticed, I am finding great joy in exploring the Substack community at the moment and neglecting my Instagram base.
And it actually perfectly illustrates my current shift in attention from images to words.
Talk soon!
I really liked reading your sentence about writing this substack in isolation and that I am reading it in isolation. It made me feel like you were just on the other side of the screen. <3
I would very much like to encourage you to write an autobiographical novel, Ania. Which language were you born into? How multilingual are you? You are obviously quite intelligent and well educated (an architect) but with a very tender heart (crafter and care-taker for creation). You seem to have encountered a great deal of pain in your life, and are yearning for the sun to shine on you, searching for the sun in your work, but still being stung by the pain. Tracing your path, both with words, fibers, and colors, could be a star for others looking for guidance through life in this world. May your marriage be blessed, and your new homestead in Poland be protected from the tensions in that part of the world at present. Be blessed, Ania, with eyes and ears open for the gifts that are waiting to be welcomed and received by you!