watched pot syndrome

I am on tenterhooks. A week ago I ordered supplies for the christening dress. I have nowhere to get quality heirloom sewing goods around here, let alone patterns and so on. The website says they ship Priority Mail. Usually things get to my house pretty fast with priority service, even from, say, Alabama. (I'm near Boston and really, Alabama is nothing compared to New Mexico or Washington state or someplace like that). Anyway, since Thursday I have been hanging around the house hoping, hoping that the mailman would bring a package so that I can get started. It's not so much that I'm eager to start--though I am--but there is a definite deadline for this project. Every day that goes by makes me more and more nervous about being able to get quality work done in the allotted time. Admittedly when the request came the time frame was already tight, so I knew I'd be working under pressure. Every day without supplies makes it worse! I feel stuck--I can't do anything--I have no baby patterns, no fabric, not even any books to research techniques (I looked at the public library this afternoon--nada). Even once everything comes I am going to have to spend some time designing and making decisions, things I can't determine for sure until I see how the pattern is constructed and where embellishment is likely to be effective. Things like where should the tucks be, where should the insertion go, should I try some delicate embroidery? The christening is on August 6th, but I am leaving on the 31st! YIKES! Sorry to shout but that is the way I feel today--things that I should be doing are impossible to do, and I'm restless enough about it that I can't seem to settle on doing anything else. I continue to practice hand quilting. Calling it practice makes me feel better. It is less of a very solemn "I am making a quilt" and more of a shrug: "sure, I'm practicing". And every moment in my mind I'm worrying... should I overnight supplies from some other merchant? What if they don't get here for another few days? arghhhh!

please please Mr. Postman look and see...

Maybe it's just because I'm frustrated with the mail service and internet merchants, or maybe it's the ions in the air from the rain... lately I've been feeling a bit down about making things in general. I love creating things with fiber and thread and yarn and fabric. I love knitting and weaving and spinning and sewing--I love it all, crochet and tatting and braiding and patchwork. And I know I am capable of certain things, good things, things that are often only attempted by serious practicioners. I can make an orenberg shawl, or a woven coat, or a gauze scarf with complex patterning. I know that I can do good work and that I can improve over time. I would rather create something detailed and lovely than something quick and easy and chunky. But lately I confess I've been wondering, why do I choose so many pasttimes that take so much time? Partly I think the hand quilting knocked me for a loop. I had no idea it would take so long and that it would be so difficult. But there are plenty, oh so many other ideas I have that barely get off the ground because of lack of time. Usually I can blame this on other pressures. This month though my schedule allows me (so far) to spend up to several hours a day doing projects. And I've realized that I have a totally mistaken idea about what I can accomplish in a given amount of time. For instance, I had a notion that I could set a goal to complete one rosette of the Grandmother's Flower Garden quilt a day. At the end of the month, I'd be so much closer to having a whole quilt top! I often stitch while listening to stories on the iPod and finally one evening having gone through four half-hour old radio shows I understood that it takes me almost two hours to completely finish one rosette. That works out to a **** of a lot of hours in one quilt top. And it's not always possible to find that kind of time in a day.

If you are reading this I am sure you are no stranger to this feeling. Everyone has so much to do, whether they are taking care of family, volunteering, or working for an outside entity. We all have more ideas that there is time to implement. And then often, when something is finished, I think--what was that about? Why was it so important to make this additional thing? Aren't there enough things in the world? Why was it important to have not just a shawl, but a lace shawl, or not just a coat, but one with carefully crafted color gradations from top to bottom? Is this just another form of conspicuous consumption, couched in handmade terms? What's the point? And--is it really worth spending that much time?

Comments

[June]

Whenever I say something like that to Matt, he always reminds me that it's a hobby and that I do it because I enjoy it.

Good things, skillfully designed and crafted things, they take time. It's how it is.

For me, deadlines suck the joy out of a project and turn it into work.

[Tasha]

Sometimes I struggle with the question of whether my crafting is simply consumption of materials, or essentially the production of yet another thing. But beauty has a place in the world, too, as does creativity.