I'm officially spoiled

Just got two new sewing machines! A Janome MC 6600 and a Bernina 750. I'm underway with the Janome, but the Bernina, despite the "take me home now sign" is too popular to keep up with demand. Guess I'll get it in a week or two. What thrills me most about the Janome is a quilt binding attachment that shows a lot of promise. Binding is not high on my list of things I enjoy. I'm not inclined to do a lot of artistic expression on the edges and to be honest, by that point in a project, I'm ready to move on to something else. Call it the "ugh" stage of a quilt. So the thought of folding and sewing a binding with one sweep through the machine is orgasmic.

The Bernina comes with a stitch regulator (BSR) - my other highly coveted function. Those who haven't yet mastered free motion quilting that doesn't look like you were drunk when you did it will be downright giddy with this feature. Or... you could probably be drunk with the BSR and the results will still be great!

A season of abundance

I'm suffering from overload: too many fabrics, too many books, too many tools, too many ideas, too little space to work and too little to show for my time so far. Puh. I know many grow their art practice organically over time, but I jumped in the middle of my path and don't know which way is forward and which way is back.

I'm floored by the advancements in tools and machines since I got mine. OMG stitch regulators? Binding attachments? Pom pom makers? And the artistic boundaries that continue to get pushed... and the 20 different approaches to do anything. I'm dizzy.

I have yet to master the balance between exploration, practice, production, business and marketing in the limited time I can dedicate to it. Owls are hot. I want an owl design. I spent a month researching and tinkering with a number of owls in a number of ways. I had owl appendages all over my workroom and I finally back-burnered it.

I need a plan.

My style

Since I'm somewhat new to the art world, I've had a bit of an identity struggle. It's like staring at a blank canvas - infinite possibilities can be overwhelming. I feel I've found my writing voice, but what's my "artistic voice"? I enjoy looking at the work of others. It's inspiring. But it's not my own...

I found it helps to create artificial constraints. I'm reminded of the show "Chopped" on the Food Network. Chefs receive a basket of four ingredients and have 30 minutes to transform them into a dish. The ingredients are often, um, eccentric and totally unrelated to other things in the basket. It's a great show if you haven't seen it. My son loves guessing who's getting chopped in each round.

My latest approach to creating has been shopping at Goodwill and other thrift stores. I pick out interesting, mismatched sheets, cool print skirts, wool sweaters for felting, and then try to combine them with other finds stashed at home. Like the mystery basket on "Chopped", the more you transform the ingredients and successfully integrate them, the better.

I enjoy the creative challenge, I like up-cycling castoffs, and I like supporting local charities. Seems win-win-win to me. I've come up with some cool combinations, but unfortunately, it looks like Goodwill exploded all over my workroom. :) No wonder companies publish books and mags dedicated to craft room storage!

Comfort for Mommy

Well, and Dads too. I know I should focus on ramping up the core of my business - baby and toddler bedding and cute wares - but my boyfriend requested neck warmers to sell in his spa. I created a prototype today and learned a thing or two about what not to do. I used rice, which holds heat surprisingly well, but it smells like cooked rice, which is not a popular aromatherapy option. Flax is next, and maybe aromatherapy oils.

They'll be in my Etsy store soon and I'm imagining a line of items for stressed out Moms and Dads who stay up late with cranky babes. I would have liked a warm wrap when I stayed up with my kiddo. *smile*

Learned art

I've always found artistic people fascinating - that a person can take a pen and illustrate something beautiful in one swoop. It's innate. Magic. Some are born with "it" and some aren't. Just like some people can carry a tune in a bucket, and some can't. Some can leap over tall buildings in a single bound, and some can't. Ok, most can't.

Then I learned something in college (*gasp*). I was not a good writer in grade school (except in the eyes of my alcoholic sophomore teacher who loved my murder with an icicle story).  But later I picked up some tools in college that would not only earn me As in English, but would help me hone and refine my writing skills over the 15 years following.

The other day someone called me a writer, and said it was something they couldn't do. Of course I was totally flattered, but I just like to write... don't consider myself a writer because I wasn't born with the gift.  I've simply worked on it until I could form reasonable sentences in my head that others may want to read. It honestly took 15 years and many, many, many hours of reading, studying, training and writing, writing, writing... and I still suck at fiction.

The other thing I learned more recently is that a lot of art is unintentional. Who knew? After reading dozens of art quilt mags and conversing with artists of various mediums, it seems a popular approach is to mess with an idea long enough until it turns into something you like. The outcome is practically an accident.

These two learnings: that artistic skills can be acquired over time and that art is organic, have encouraged me to reconsider my feelings about quilting. Since I was a little girl, I've been designing quilts - in my head of course. I've invented more imaginary quilts than I could create in a lifetime. Then it dawned on me. In this age of the Internet, there is literally nothing stopping me from opening my own store.

So I did.

With much enthusiasm I bought fabric, cutting mats, thread, books, more mags, sat down at my sewing machine, and was ready to throw in the towel after about 4 hours. What a dumb idea. What made me think I could do this well enough that someone (in their right mind) would want to pay money for it?