I'm not sure what I thought it meant to be a grown-up when I was little. I do remember having one of my mom's old purses and filling it with very important things: crayons, a doll, a snack. I remember thinking, "I can't wait to have a checkbook to put in here..." because it seemed like a grown-up thing to do. What I couldn't conceive of, however, was
not needing toys and fun things in my bag. I mean, what would I do? How would I stay occupied if I didn't bring toys?
This week is my birthday. In high school I would have seen myself in a very different place than I am but I also couldn't have foreseen all of the things I have done between now and then. Even in college I didn't think I would be in school again. And here I am, finishing my masters and contacting movers and trying to pin down the last bits of my thesis.
I am very excited to give myself the gift of completing my thesis for my birthday. I have only to take and place 2 photos into the document and then it will be finished and ready to submit. I asked one of my professors to read and give feedback on the written work at this stage and her biggest criticism seemed to be that although the information in the thesis is very personal to me I manage to hold the reader at arm's length from knowing
me. I try to take every piece of feedback into consideration when making edits. Consider it, but perhaps not always make changes because of it. In considering her feedback I wrote this closing:
- One last note on dobby constructions and the experience of making these fabrics: it felt really good. Stumbling across the idea to paint on unwoven warps (it seemed almost taboo, what if something dripped? What if the loom got marked up? What if....?) was a huge turning point. It made the loom a blank canvas. Instead of feeling boxed in by the harness draw (and the unattractive idea of having to redraw in order to get more flexibility) it unleashed something. For this collection it was well-suited to creating croquis, small sketches that catch ideas like the tiny bits of fuzzy memory we are never quite sure are real. Sitting down each time to create the next drawing or painting gave voice to something new. It gave me freedom to push.
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| Painted dobby construction, inspired by handkerchief embroidery |
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| Philly Row House jacquard fabric, this city has made a big impression on me |
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| Buddy at Work jacquard fabric, inspired by photos of my grandfather |
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| Correspondingly Yours, postcards and handwritten notes |
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| Jane on the Ocean, I wish my Grandma could see this one |
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| inspired by vintage graphic design and advertising |
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| plaid created by painting on the unwoven warp |
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| fuzzy and crazy and fun to touch |
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| postage stamp dobby painting |
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| like rustling crinolines... |
Despite all the craziness of mentally preparing for a cross-country move, finishing school and the mental preparation for leaving this style of working for re-entering the 'real world' workforce this has been a really good year. My friend Amanda helped fill in the missing piece to the why-is-this-working? equation. She pointed out that in all of our plotting and planning and anticipating that we forgot to consider the idea that we have actually gotten really good at what we do. The energy put into risk taking is totally different, we have the skills to make better leaps. I thought this last push would be draining but instead it has felt freeing. It's pretty awesome.
