Apr

Our Smithsonian: Frustrated creativity finds an outlet in philanthropy

Leslie Poster introduces us to Laura McClure, who is using her skills as a mount maker to make a difference.

It’s been weeks since mountmaker Laura McClure has been able to use the sanders, saws, and dozens of needle-nose pliers that line her office in the basement of the National Museum of American History. But her mountmaking continues at home during the COVID-19 pandemic, and her handcrafting talents have found a new purpose in these uncertain times.

McClure’s workday is spent in meetings and training, keeping up with the many exhibit projects she’s working on and building her skills. A regular lunchtime meeting on Teams with her close friend Hillery York, an appointment they kept when the museum was open, helps her to maintain a sense of normalcy, but the pressure of returning to the work she can’t complete away from her workshop weighs on her.

“As a person who has a hands-on job, the struggle is real,” McClure said. Without access to her tools and the artifacts her mounts support, she’s unable to do much mountmaking, though she has been able to put a dent in the 544 pins she needs to bend, paint, prime, and seal for the upcoming numismatics show Really Big Money.

But outside of her work, McClure has taken on a new task. She was encouraged by a sustainability newsletter sent to staff last month to begin making fabric masks for friends and family. Now, nearly 200 masks later, her masks are traveling across the nation to keep people safe.

Laura McClure peeking beneath sewing machine

Mount maker Laura McClure has turned her creative talent to sewing masks for healthcare workers and others who need personal protective equipment. (Selfie courtesy Laura McClure)

“As a quilter, I have way too much fabric for a normal human,” McClure said, “and I had worked in a fabric store, so I had a ton of elastic on hand.”

One of her earliest masks went to a friend who is a nurse in South Carolina, who was conducting COVID-19 testing with limited access to supplies.

“Here I am, nice and cozy in my bed, and my friend is out there risking her life and swabbing people without the appropriate PPE,” McClure said. The stories that stirred her heart are many. Another set of masks went to a friend in Colorado whose husband is at higher risk because of the lung disorder cystic fibrosis. She made masks for the couple, as well as for their four children.

“It’s messed up,” she said, reflecting on making the tiny masks. “It’s super messed up.”

She recently dropped off a set of masks at the National Museum of the American Indian, to ensure the security staff still guarding the building had access to the equipment. She leaves a basket of masks outside her door for delivery drivers to pick up as they need.

As her mask-making picks up steam, offers of support pour in—she declines offers of payment, but encourages people who want to support her work to fund or send her fabric and other sewing supplies.

Some might call it an act of philanthropy, but McClure sees it as community building in a time when social distance puts us physically farther apart.

“It just feels like I can do this. I’m just doing something,” McClure said. “People giving me money or supplies or philanthropizing back to me, it’s this circle of community that is just wonderful. . . . It’s the thing that helps me, even though I’m so anxious right now, keeping busy and keeping this circle going.”