I taught my first craft class when I was eight years old. A few nights prior, after I finished sipping water from a vintage dixie cup emblazoned with seashells, I folded the base up and flattened the paper cup.
Hmmm it kind of looks like an old man, I thought. Instead of tossing the cup (and instead of going to bed, much to my parents’ chagrin), I gathered my markers, scissors, glue, a couple cotton balls, and construction paper. Soon, the soggy vessel transformed into good ol’ Saint Nicholas, red suit, beard, hat, and all. I stood him on my nightstand and admired my work of genius.
I brought my little buddy to show-and-tell at school, where the teacher excitedly asked me to teach my classmates to make their own. She set aside a whole class period, purchased a pack of dixie cups and cotton balls on her meager teacher salary, and distributed the supplies to my fellow classmates. And suddenly, shy little Emily with a fear of public speaking, was in charge.
“The confidence of knowing someone believed in me, over something so simple as a paper cup and an idea, has rippled through my life for decades.”
A couple dozen students learned how to turn trash to treasure that day, and I added to my own little army of bearded men — this time, I made Saint Patrick. He was the same as Santa in every way, except he was green and carried a pipe cleaner shepherd’s staff. The confidence of knowing someone believed in me, over something so simple as a paper cup and an idea, has rippled through my life for decades. (Shoutout to Mrs. Kimmett, who saw the vision in so many ways.)
Physical creation has always been an important part of my life, even before I made those gnome-like cup guys. I learned to crochet at an early age, sewed bags and bad outfits in high school, and took up watercoloring in adulthood. These are not just hobbies, to me and so many others, they’re rebellious acts of self-care in the face of a world that invites us to consume rather than create.
So as we watch the unraveling in the news, the tears ripping through society, and the hurts coloring our communities, I think it’s high time we get back to what fits in the palms of our hands — as we’re also learning to also carry one another into whatever’s next. Whatever craft or hand-making looks like to you, whether it’s woodworking or fabric dyeing, make a little space in your schedule for creating something from scratch. Beyond the fact that handmaking is fun and screen-free, there’s also science that supports its benefits.
“Crafting, to me and so many others, is a rebellious act of self-care in the face of a world that invites us to consume rather than create.”
Why crafting is important — and the science that agrees
Crafting has an impressive impact on mental and emotional health, and I’ve found plenty of research to back this up. Data collected from a survey out of Anglia Ruskin University in the UK show evidence that craft activities like painting or making things by hand boost happiness and overall life satisfaction, making days feel more meaningful. There’s also a small study conducted by Dartmouth College researchers that shows taking even a basic art course can literally rewire your brain — specifically in regions connected to creativity and perception. The benefits aren’t just a nice feeling; they’re supported by measurable shifts in our neurology.
“When projects go wrong — whether that’s tangled yarn or a miscut piece of wood — crafting quietly teaches flexibility and resilience.”
But sometimes the feeling isn’t so nice (anyone else ever have to scrap a whole sweater or afghan for one reason or another? Devastating.) When projects go wrong — whether that’s tangled yarn or a miscut piece of wood — crafting quietly teaches flexibility and resilience. It’s not just a matter of getting better at troubleshooting, although that’s helpful, too; a 2024 study on fiber arts suggest that working through mistakes trains the brain to adapt and build emotional resilience. From my own experience, I’ve found that my proclivity to making has helped me approach challenges with greater patience and resourcefulness — skills that have seen me through some of the most difficult seasons of my life.
Crafting also connects people in ways that are hard to replicate through screens alone. Research on group art-making indicates that the practice of creating crafts in a group setting can help reduce depression and increase feelings of social wellbeing, which means your neighborhood craft night might be an accessible low-cost intervention strategy for folks going through a rough patch. This goes for attending events in the arts as well! I’d argue, too, that craft connects us to our ancestors and cultural histories, and the histories of cultures outside of our own. Like walking through a museum of art created in ancient civilizations, we can get a hands-on experience of what folks hundreds and thousands of years before us were creating. Fiber arts, pottery, and painting using natural pigments offer us a glimpse into the labor that go into these practices, both then and now.
Finally, the confidence that comes from hands-on creativity extends into other areas, including work and leadership. Studies highlight that people who pursue crafts may feel greater self-efficacy and career satisfaction, as well as develop skills that make them more adaptable in careers not likely to be automated anytime soon. These creative habits can even fuel social action and stronger problem-solving — qualities valued in STEM fields and leadership roles. Crafting helps build a foundation for facing complex challenges, and that’s something we could all use right now.
Are you reaching for that crochet hook yet?
“Crafting helps build a foundation for facing complex challenges, and that’s something we could all use right now.”
The courage that comes with craft (of all kinds)
As I said earlier, craft comes in so many shapes and forms, so pick the best one for you. Here are 99 craft ideas to get you started, although it doesn’t stop there. Creating doesn’t solely belong to those of us lamenting the loss of our good friend JoAnn fabrics — craft transcends mediums, skill levels, and meaning and usefulness throughout history.
“If there is a practice you indulge in, whether for work, profit, or neither, that bridges the space between your brain and your body and invites you to a state of your own unique flow — that’s craft!”
I extend my own definition of craft to include things like building, composing, repairing, singing, tinkering, upcycling, and, hey now, sometimes even breaking. If there is a practice you indulge in, whether for work, profit, or neither, that bridges the space between your brain and your body and invites you to a state of your own unique flow — that’s craft! In that way, working with our hands includes the practical, everyday projects, as well: sorting the medicine cabinet, hanging paintings and plants, installing a projector on the ceiling, removing the base plate off the dishwasher and disconnecting the water sensor to clean it, hauling the boxes of a new couch upstairs and assembling it over the course of one sweaty afternoon.
These are all real things I’ve done myself, and all because I’ve been cultivating the confidence of creation since I was a young child.
Because I’ve been a crocheter, a calligrapher, and a cook, I’ve had the courage to be an apprentice electrician, carpenter, and plumber (with YouTube’s help, of course). Truly, reading through a dishwasher manual isn’t nearly so intimidating after you’ve followed a crochet pattern, and constructing a couch comes easier after you’ve built your first lego set. And, most importantly, because I’ve messed up on most of these, I’ve dug a deeper well of resilience and curiosity in the fallout. In my mind, the world is full of creative possibility and problems to be solved.
“This is a reminder to embrace these crafts that bring us back to ourselves, that bring our communities a little closer to whole, step by step and stitch by stitch.”
So while the world feels so big and crushing around us, and we feel the insignificance and despair creep in, I return, again, to something Mrs. Kimmett taught us back in third grade. We traced our hand prints, cut them out, then filled them with what each of us were capable of, even at our young age. “My hands are small, I know,” went the Jewel song that inspired my teacher to create this exercise. “But they’re not yours, they are my own, and I am never broken.” To this day, the song still bring soft tears to my eyes as I reminisce on how beautiful my life has become thanks to these practices of using my hands to build something better.
I’ll never forget how my sweet teacher strung up those tiny handprints through the classroom, a bunting of courage and capabilities, a reminder of the strength and creativity we hold in the palms of our hands.
And I’m reminded, most importantly, to embrace these crafts that bring us back to ourselves, that bring our communities a little closer to whole, step by step and stitch by stitch.
Emily McGowan is the Editorial Director at The Good Trade. She studied Creative Writing and Business at Indiana University, and has over ten years of experience as a writer and editor in sustainability and lifestyle spaces. Since 2017, she’s been discovering and reviewing the top sustainable home, fashion, beauty, and wellness products so readers can make their most informed decisions. Her editorial work has been recognized by major publications like The New York Times and BBC Worklife. You can usually find her in her colorful Los Angeles apartment journaling, playing with her cat, or crafting. Say hi on Instagram or follow along with her Substack, Pinky Promise.
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