The Stately Barr Manor Stoodio is a mess. There are a few organized plateaus in it, but for the most part, it’s adrift and rudderless. (I’ll spare you the photos: you’ve seen them before: “look at how creative a spot i have with all the mess–*****gimme a gold star, a medal for my joie de vivre, lackadaisical attitude.”) I could spend the whole day, and more, straightening up, but have decided as long as most of the piles are hidden ie put away, and i can grab fastly what i actually need, it’s alright to not have one of those pristine magazine perfect pretty places with the comfy chair, the flowers and sunlight hitting hung prisms (the ones that blind you when you are actually working, not just admiring with the reporter/photographer….). And of course, there’s the rest of the house–put this away, find a spot for the crockpot, walk the dog, interact meaningfully (or not) with Significant Other (because it’s not always about undying soulful love), what’s for supper? Delay, delay, delay. Avoidance.
Something simple to begin with. Work/stitch/research/notate one hour a day. Even if it’s 15 minutes here, 5 there and 29 there, it will add up. One of my embroidery heroes spends 6 hours a day stitching—it’s rare i have an uninterrupted period like that, unless there’s a deadline 🙂 Do the basic layout. Lay out the tools i need. Get the notes handy. Load the camera. Thread a couple of needles. Use the threaded needles until they’re needing reloading. Get off the &*^%ing computer. ONE HOUR. Otherwise, i dither around so much, fretting about starting, that i never start. Well, why don’t i have something to work on in front of the evening tubage?? Who’s fault is that? Certainly can’t blame the crockpot or Significant Other. Acceptance.
So, first i made a pile. Threaded needles. Loaded the camera. ETC.
Then i started.
Admiring the blues together.
Next step, start the browns stitching.
Admittedly today was a day off from the fffFlower Mines, so i had more time than an hour. Lookit! Lookit! Lookit!! (Remember being 6 and showing Mom you could “swim”?) “WOW. That is SO exciting, lumpy and all borgly”, i heard you say under your breath. (Yes i did too.) Lookit!: i’m swimming! Yeah, my feet are still on the bottom of the lake, but i’m in the water, hey?
I also heard “WTF is a borgle??????” When the blankets get all twangled and stuck under your hip and you can’t straighten them out in the dark with your eyes still closed to cover yourself in the middle of a freezing cold night, as in damn it, the blankets are all borgled, so that you have to actually get up, turn on the light and remake the bed, thereby thoroughly waking yourself up so you can’t get back to sleep even though now warmly covered and comfy, that’s a borgle. It can also apply to the state of the stoodio. Also, known for my purposes, as one of my “semi-patented” FrankenStitch techniques.
*****Now i can have a semi-soggy Hero Biscuit with my coffee.
I have had a few puzzled enquiries WHY i would take a “motivational” course. Because i *know* HOW to do things, because i’m tired of classes where you “make marks” with sticks, feathers, charcoal, watered down ink and possibly dirt and blood. Because i want to know WHY i do –or do not–do what i do, and because i want things back in me that fell out. I want to know HOW i work, because it’s forest for the trees right now, and i want back under the skin down to the bones that propped up all of this. Because i don’t care about deconstructed screen prints, new ways to use a chain stitch, evolving methods to ecoprint or how to colour in zentangles. I want WHY i need, want, have to do— any of these things should i choose to are only tools, they’re not the muscle memory and firing synapse, the JOY and pleasure i’ve lost. I wouldn’t call this a “motivational” course, but HELL, if it gets my motivation back, call it whatever *you* want. (You’re probably in the midst of a “Soul journalling” class, and ain’t that “motivational”? (A chacun son gout, with appropriate accents agui and circonflexe.)
If a bone is set wrong, sometimes it has to be re-broken to set properly.