It’s the middle of winter, and lots of people are sad. There’s not enough color in the world, especially after Walla Walla’s out-of-control snowstorm. Everything just seems muted. And so we are sad.

Here is my proposal for feeling better. Start a little revolution. A little art revolution.

Truly, of all the revolutions in the world to start, of all the things I write about in this column to make you feel guilty, this is probably the easiest one to actually do. You just make some art.

Of course I have my political reasons for saying this. Making your own goods takes money away from corporate America and gives it to other Do-It-Yourselfers (DIY) instead. When the largest business you’re supporting is Joann Fabrics, you’re well on your way to changing the world.

I started thinking about this right before Christmas, when my youngest sister declared that she would no longer hang any art on her walls that was not handmade by someone she knew. She was my Secret Santa, so I took a mental note and made her her first art.

It was possibly the most liberating thing I’ve ever done. I felt like a better person. A better artist, better sister, better feminist. I stuck it to the man and gave Annie something that required absolutely no input from the great U.S. of Corporate A.

Everything was vintage, and I’d had the poster board since ninth grade. Which counts as vintage to me.

So what I’m trying to say is, pun intended, do it yourself. It’s easy, cheap and relentlessly satisfying. It starts with collecting.
The first step is spending more time in secondhand stores. If I spend less than two hours in one, I’ve rushed myself. Lots of secondhand stores are hooked up to a charity of some kind, so the money you spend stays in the store, and if it leaves goes to another good cause. No suited man in a Miami penthouse benefits when you visit Goodwill.

So buy THINGS. Just things. Books for collaging, the stranger the better. Pictures of birds. Dresses. Just buy old, pretty things that smell like dust, perfume and perfection. I promise that when you wake up in the morning and get dressed in vintage clothes, you will feel more like a work of art. Which will then make you want to make more works of art. Which means you will not be sad.

Resources for becoming a DIYer abound. Whitman’s bookstore carries crafting magazines as well as feminist tomes like Bust, Venuszine and Bitch, all of which have extensive craft sections with directions for any number of projects. Start listening to music like Regina Spektor’s. She’s independent and preternaturally adorable. One of her songs reminds us that cutting one’s own hair never costs any money, which is true. Yet another way for your appearance to be part of your artistic revolution. Go to one of Walla Walla’s several fantastic secondhand clothing stores, all of which carry more than just clothes.

Once you have a sizable collection of strange-smelling things and you’re starting to wonder why you ever listened to me, you’re ready to create. There is so much to be said for tearing pages out of old National Geographics and sewing them into fabric from the art studio or from Joann’s. Days pass so that you don’t notice the white sky, and at the end of it you’ve made something. The best part about DIY is that the “It” is always a thing. When you have “done it yourself,” something exists when you’re done that didn’t before.

Of course, if you’re in the DIY game to damn the man, then you’ll want more than magazines. You’ll want to learn to can your own food, sew your own clothes, bake your own bread and make your own music. And I say, if you’re going to do anything radical in your life, do this.

Who knows? If it turns out you’re really good at a particular craft, you can start selling it. Eventually one of those crafting magazines will hear about you, and your work will inspire others who are sitting around wondering when the snow will melt and the grass will come through.