I'll Know It When I Get There
I used to work much differently than I do now. I would, more often than not, see an idea finished in my head. Boom. I would usually sketch it out, pick my fabrics accordingly, and merrily sew my way to the end of a project.
I'm not sure what happened, but I can't work like that anymore. I just can't. It's sort of the feeling you get when you're in a relationship with a person who you know is a wonderful human being but just not your wonderful human being. It's painful, this ending of the relationship, but you know you have to go.
This means that I've basically started over. I'm a beginner in how I now work. I don't see finished projects in my head. I get glimpses of how to start - vision bursts - and then I begin. One foot in front of the other --usually very slowly. Experimental moment begets experimental moment.
Sometimes it's excruciating not to know the ending while in the middle (like I used to be able to do). It takes much more patience and much more trust. It's slower, and it feels incredibly vulnerable, like I'm wearing my insides on the outside. Ultimately, however, it's more satisfying.
Like my penchant for long, solitary walks, I get to wander deeply through my own creative process.
I'll know it when I get there.