In the last few years in my sewing journey, I've thought more about failure and what to do about it. Let's face it, we all have projects that just don't turn out the way we planned. We seam rip, we change out blocks, we alter our end goal, but sometimes, it's time to throw in the towel.
What to do then? Full confession: I've thrown 2 quilt projects directly into the trash. For me, it was more an emotional purge. I had to see them be disposed of - see that they came to and end. It's not my 1st choice. I recycle as much as I humanly can. I hate to think about growing landfills. But I also know that I can't single-handedly take on the earth's trash. I sort my daily trash into what can be recycled.
But for those 2 quilts, I did what I did and needed to move on.
I've also had 2 sweaters that I've knit that I needed to let go. One was never a good fit. I put it on and found myself tugging it down all day as it bunched and pulled.
The other, the fit was perfect yet the color was a bad choice (it looked great on the model!) But I found myself only wearing it only in the house to keep me warm. And feeling guilty that I put all that labor, and money, into making it, and not loving it.
What to do with these? The wrong color, I offered my daughter, who now lives in Denver where it's MUCH colder than Albuquerque. She said yes, and yay for that!
The not-so-great fitting one? Time to just pass it on, give it away.
So, back to failure. I don't necessarily think of it in the negative. It's an attempt at something that didn't work, and so it's time to move on, having learned some lessons. Failure gives me strength, wisdom, lessons in humility. Failure makes me a better human being.
I've also been thinking about how our self esteem is tied into this whole picture. When we create, in a perfect world, we should be the judge of our work. It's art - it's personal, right?
I've had 2 conversations recently that were interesting in their own right:
*With 5 year old Nola, who, with her 8 year old brother Jude, were spending an afternoon crafting with me. We were each making collages: fabric, scissors, glue, paper and colored pencils and markers. With a stack of scraps in front of us, we'd take one, fussy cut an image, glue it to paper, and so on and so on. At one point Nola asks me "do you like mine?" followed by "yours is prettier than mine." Gulp. How do I address this? Of course mine wasn't prettier. That's nonsense. But to a 5 year old, life is about better, prettier, bigger, smaller. It's absolutes. So I thought about my response before just blurting out "yours is beautiful" and "no, mine isn't prettier". I kept it short, but told her that art is personal. It doesn't matter what other people think, nor do you need their approval. The goal is that it's pleasing to yourself. That it makes you happy. To which Jude said, "The world is art and the world never stops creating." When my eyes could focus again because they were tearing up, I wrote down that quote to remember it.
*With customer Jean, who about a decade older than me, so in her 60s. As she shopped, she shared with me a picture of a quilt she was making, and asking "is this right?" and "I don't know if this would look good", and our conversation went in the same direction as with Nola. I shared with her that if it's pleasing to your eye, (and doesn't have glaring holes/mistakes), it's right. It's good. It's the way it should be. She told me she's from a generation that was taught with sewing, that it's right or wrong. I get that, I do. It's hard to undo. I told her about the quote from Picasso: "learn the rules like a pro so you can break them like an artist". Learn your basics. Learn to sew a straight seam. Learn to press. Learn to cut. Learn to read a pattern. Then go in your own direction and make art that you love.
I told Jean I have no intention of entering any of my work in any contest/judged show. (Maybe that will change in my lifetime). I create from my emotions, my ideas. They're mine to own and I don't need, nor desire, to have approval of others as to whether it's worthy or not. I'm enough of my own critic, after all!
You? If you're reading this, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
