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Danny Mansmith
37, Male
Chicago Heights
United States - Share
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Profile Information
- Hometown:
- Chicago
- Relationship Status:
- Single
- About Me:
- I believe in the imperfections we all have. In an improvisational way I use the sewing machine to put together everyday materials or scraps in a manner that is well constructed, and inspired by a love of naive expression–like children's art work or bad sewing.
Making art is a response to feeling apart from others.
When people see you as different and you feel outside of things, I think this frees you up.
I was the sensitive redhead growing up: the one that was picked on. So, from the very beginning, I was sort of pushed upon a path of feeling different and apart from others.
Most of the time I have stayed to myself, being alone is not a bad thing for me. Solitude allows you to make your own roles and give you the opportunity to make your own decisions without being influenced by others.
What we need is inside ourselves—we just have to find it.
Making art for me is my identity. I started making clothes for myself—for some reason, it seemed very important once I decided to stop trying to fit in and to start looking like my own person. So because of my need to be my own individual, I started to make clothes.
I began to use my grandma’s supplies. She had given me my first art lessons and made my clothes growing up.
I experimented with fabric and my grandma’s sewing machine. I remember not being able to sleep during that first month. I took apart all my clothes and tried to follow and learn the patterns. I remember thinking to myself that I needed to be good at this.
Of course, I wasn’t good at following directions. So I used the basic patterns from the clothes I purchased to begin to make my own shapes and to fit them to me. I looked at the details of store bought clothes and vintage clothes to see different constructions and to see how to finish seams.
I didn’t want to take a class to be taught how to sew. I needed to do this my way. I love bad sewing. When you see something put together really roughly, you see—despite the individual’s apparent lack of skill and perfected technique—creativity. I think you see the individual’s passion—that fire at their feet.
I wanted this energy—the look of the human hand with its flaws. At the same time, I still wanted what I was making to be well made and finished on the inside.
It took almost all of the ‘90’s to develop a way of sewing that looks naive and disheveled, but still well made.
There’s this really hard work ethic I have. But working and making art is my joy and freedom. It’s my survival.
When people see you as different and you feel outside of things, I think this frees you up.
I was the sensitive redhead growing up: the one that was picked on. So, from the very beginning, I was sort of pushed upon a path of feeling different and apart from others.
Most of the time I have stayed to myself, being alone is not a bad thing for me. Solitude allows you to make your own roles and give you the opportunity to make your own decisions without being influenced by others.
What we need is inside ourselves—we just have to find it.
Making art for me is my identity. I started making clothes for myself—for some reason, it seemed very important once I decided to stop trying to fit in and to start looking like my own person. So because of my need to be my own individual, I started to make clothes.
I began to use my grandma’s supplies. She had given me my first art lessons and made my clothes growing up.
I experimented with fabric and my grandma’s sewing machine. I remember not being able to sleep during that first month. I took apart all my clothes and tried to follow and learn the patterns. I remember thinking to myself that I needed to be good at this.
Of course, I wasn’t good at following directions. So I used the basic patterns from the clothes I purchased to begin to make my own shapes and to fit them to me. I looked at the details of store bought clothes and vintage clothes to see different constructions and to see how to finish seams.
I didn’t want to take a class to be taught how to sew. I needed to do this my way. I love bad sewing. When you see something put together really roughly, you see—despite the individual’s apparent lack of skill and perfected technique—creativity. I think you see the individual’s passion—that fire at their feet.
I wanted this energy—the look of the human hand with its flaws. At the same time, I still wanted what I was making to be well made and finished on the inside.
It took almost all of the ‘90’s to develop a way of sewing that looks naive and disheveled, but still well made.
There’s this really hard work ethic I have. But working and making art is my joy and freedom. It’s my survival.
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I like your redhead analogy too, I never thought of it, but always being the tallest and newest(we moved a lot) kid in class, it makes sense that I would take a different path than most of my friends.
http://www.fiberarts.com/submissions/submissionguidelines.asp
I really think you should give it some thought, you are good!
wendy