The Evolution of a Business

Lynn Burdick
Nov 3 · 6 min read

The original idea behind my business was to marry my love of making things with nurturing others (see this video) The plan was to create a manufacturing facility here in Austin to make my bags and offer employment opportunities to disadvantaged women. But I’ve been struggling with the fact that I don’t want to contribute to the waste/pollution problem we already have nor do I want to be a part of a system that feeds our consumeristic culture. Instead of filling our lives with experiences and connections/relationships, we’re filling it with stuff and we are suffering for it.

The fashion industry is the second largest polluter behind the oil industry. Fashion (especially fast fashion) is creating a glut of waste our landfills can’t handle. (You think donating your stuff is the answer? Read this).

Pesticides from cotton crops as well as the dye chemicals used in manufacturing are polluting our water systems. Then there is the scary amount of waste just from shipping the stuff. I work retail, I see it first-hand and I cringe every single time we get new product in. Everything is wrapped in plastic.

I wasn’t always like this. I’ve done my fair share of retail therapy — shopping as a diversion for the boredom in life — a way to get a quick high to fill that empty feeling inside. Somewhere along the way something in me shifted. I got out of my own little ignorant bubble and saw how my actions were contributing to a global problem. As I examined my lack of fulfillment I realized more stuff was not the answer. I was drawn to the simplicity movement (now it’s called minimalism). When I moved, everything I owned (except my car, obviously) fit into a seven foot storage container. I currently live in less than 700 square feet and everything I own fits in nicely. I’ve curated it so it’s what I absolutely need (i.e. to cook with) or something I love (i.e. jewelry I’ve collected from my travels). I’m intentional about what I buy. Can I borrow it? Can I buy it used? Can I make it? Can I get it for free? (I broke the bowl on my mini food processor and I was just about to spend the $20 to replace it when someone in my neighborhood posted one for free!) Can I do without? Do I absolutely love it or need it?

So how does this relate to my business and love of making things?

I don’t have all the answers, yet. I just know mass production is no longer an option. But I still want to make things. Making things, for me, is personal. It’s my way of showing love.

As I try to make sense of it all, I’ve found a couple of interesting ideas that really appeal to me. The first is boro. Boro is a Japanese tradition that grew out of necessity rather than aesthetics. Boro means “ragged” or “tattered”. In rural Japan, when a blanket or kimono got the inevitable hole from use, women would patch over it using shashiko stitching. There are examples of kimonos and blankets that have so many patches on them it’s impossible to know if any of the original garment is still left.

This is similar to our American roots of the patchwork quilt. Nothing was wasted back then and women used scraps from dressmaking or worn clothes and pieced them together to make quilts. While all these pieces are obviously utilitarian, humans are a creative lot and the sashiko stitching as well as creating interesting shapes from the scraps, made these objects beautiful in their own right.

The current resurgence of patchwork (especially jeans) stems from the boro/patchwork tradition. It’s a backlash to our current throwaway culture. These patched pieces, unlike their ancestors, are no longer a source of shame (poverty). They are a source of pride, creativity, and beauty. They have been relegated to art status.

I love the idea that instead of throwing something out and deeming it useless because it has a hole or imperfection (or we’re just bored of it) it is revived and given a new look and purpose. Making something old new again.

Another Japanese idea that resonates with me is wabi-sabi. It’s an aesthetic that honors the imperfection and transience of things. According to Wikipedia, “Characteristics of the wabi-sabi aesthetic include asymmetry, roughness, simplicity, economy, austerity, modesty, intimacy and appreciation of the ingenuous integrity of natural objects and processes.” For example. if a potter made a vessel and it cracked in the kiln, instead of throwing it out, that crack would become part of the design, perhaps even highlighted by filling it in with a precious metal.

I love that it includes the word “intimacy”. That’s been one of my words and I’ll get to that later.

Redefining Business

In my earlier days, I started following a website called Fibershed. It was started in 2010 by Rebecca Burgess who is a natural dyer. You can check out its mission here. Long story short, Fibershed is about slow fashion. Connecting directly with growers and makers and creating quality, timeless garments. I was pleased to find out Fibershed is still around and grown considerably since I first found them.

This brings me to Dunbar’s Number which states we can comfortably maintain 150 relationships, based on the size of our neocortex (brain). Larger numbers require more rules to keep the group cohesive. This is where the idea of intimacy comes in. While the rest of the world is looking for bigger and larger numbers (i.e. likes, fans, shares, money…etc), I find myself wanting to shrink things down. To return to the idea of intimacy, where you know less people but have a deeper connection versus the world of social media which is shallow and wide. You have a lot of “friends”, but you don’t really know them and never even met them in person.

One hundred and fifty seems to be the magic number not only for people, but for distances. In the Fibershed, 150 miles from headquarters is as large as the region goes. Other slow movements (such as food) also roughly use the 150 mile mark. It comes down to community. When it exceeds the 150 mark (people, miles) you get a breakdown in the quality of relationships. Instead of “big” business, where people become numbers and profits become the most important metric, I (as well as others like Fibershed) are advocating for smaller, regional (and more people and environmentally friendly) communities and businesses that then become linked to each other over their common goal (there are regional Fibersheds all over the world, including one here in Austin). To me, it just makes more sense and aligns perfectly with my own values and goals.

I’m still trying to sort out how all of this figures into my business. I’m leaning away from designing things as a business model to designing experiences. As for specifically making things, something interesting came up in a recent coaching session. Because making things is so personal for me, I want to create things that leave a legacy, have a story, a history. Hopefully things that will be kept (and patched?) and handed down instead of thrown into the garbage. Things that have meaning that transcends my own life.

This is an exciting time for me. I find my creative juices flowing and I’m playing around with a lot of ideas. One thing I do know for sure, the essence of my business is not changing. I remain committed to nurturing creativity, the environment, my community, my collaborators (including future employees) and my customer.


Originally published at https://lynnburdick.com on November 3, 2019.

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