That magic moment when the junky found bits of rubbish* pick themselves up off the table and assemble themselves into something 3D. Everything good comes in time, with practice but without pushing. I wish I could remember that more consistently. In time! Zaman var.
A better picture will come in the morning light. And maybe a title. Feel free to suggest one.
*heavily frayed electrical cable, disposable plastic spoon, used dummy bullet. All collected in Göreme.
I am still figuring out how to answer this question.
It comes most often from the non-crafty, non-artist person looking at my work, with perhaps a degree of horrified fascination.
They are (at minimum) intending to show a polite interest. They are (I think) baffled by the mechanics of creation.
Like a good former reference librarian, I can’t take this question at face value. I want to climb into their head a little, figure out what it is they really want to know.
If the question was “how long did it take?” that’s amenable of a brief answer:elapsed time at x intensity.
However, the question is almost always “how long DOES it take?” and I think that’s a deeper question about ongoing process and the experience of making.
Am I right?
The photo shows a king-sized quilt of hand-pieced 3-D bow tie blocks, 4 inches square. By the end of the project I could stitch one with my eyes shut, in about 15 minutes. I made them only when travelling, over a period of about 7 years. How long did that take? To me, it is the least interesting element.
Space and time are always the requirements for creation. The stuff of making. This week I have the blessing if both. I’m making – completing – a very simple project long in the making, but I’m also beginning to feel a renewed interest in something with much more potential. Starting somewhere, sometime, like this
Fabric yet again from Dye-it. I had a buying spree when they closed. I love their work.