Whew, what a week! Good week. Too much working and not enough anything else (I can always tell this because my shoulders feel like rocks) but it's been great and I am happy. The photo shoot on Thursday went really well. Andrea and Andy helped so much. I can't remember if I mentioned it, but for the past few months I have been lucky enough to be hanging out with the amazing Andrea of Hula Seventy, talking to her about the concept of this book, and getting the benefit of her incredible photographic eye. The girl just sees things. She is a born stylist. On top of that she is so kind and gentle and enthusiastic, even though it frequently feels like most of what amounts to "assisting" at a photo shoot isn't about making aesthetically valuable contributions but just jumping when someone bleats, "Can you get that/move this/dust that/straighten that/lower it now/recharge these batteries/hold this reflector for me, please?" [if they even remember to say please].
But it all matters. And she (and Andy) does it all with such generosity that you resolve to be more generous yourself, in general, because — that's nice. That's just so nice to be around. And I like to think that it — those happy conditions — shows in the shots. All our conversations and brainstorming and fiddling go into the day, and, with any luck, the thing that appears on film matches our visions, our hopes for that little scene. Sometimes it just doesn't work, and then you have to switch gears. But sometimes it does. So much of embroidering and writing and sewing is solitary, a personal labor of love. It simply blows my mind when anyone else cares enough to share it. I'm so grateful. Because sometimes it takes a village. And if cool, kind people live in your village, then . . . jeesh. Score.
There's this interesting phenomenon that happens with a big project that evolves as it goes along. Let's just say you are writing and photographing an embroidery book, for instance. Let's just say you are a lunatic who is writing and photographing an embroidery book. It starts as an idea — something that you can sum up in one sentence or so. You hammer out a proposal that includes ideas for thirty projects — and most of these (at least most of mine) are literally conjured out of thin air. You pluck them out of your brain like hazy new plums. Some will stay, some will go (right now you don't know which). Some use techniques you've never done before (don't tell!). Some should take a normal person several weeks, even months — not days — to complete. Thirty is a lot, and at this point, you're just going for quantity. Can one person even think of thirty things? Are there even thirty things to make??? No. Yes. There are. You write things down. You sketch and color and plot. You try to think of something for everyone. You try to think of that one thing that might inspire someone to try something they've never done before, to pick up a needle and go. You think, "I really need guest-room curtains," and design some.
But then you start working on the projects and they start changing and growing and getting bigger, and getting better. You go with it. You just keep stitching. Go go go. While you're stitching, you're thinking, even though it looks like you're just watching Gossip Girl. When not stitching, you're looking through old books, thumbing through your fabric stash, wandering the aisles at the craft store, cooking dinner, petting the dog, worrying about stuff, cleaning the house, trying to keep the bills paid, occasionally walking in the woods, sometimes taking an unrelated break to make a pincushion, and dreaming, and the ideas begin to bloom.
And as the ideas grow and come to life, the book goes from a concept to an actual collection of real things. You stitch and you're committed — each project you start becomes a committment: the book will now be like this and not that — no time for regrets or second-guesses. You must keep going, and also you must go quickly, because that's how publishing works. No time to go back and redo, or rethink it, really. But this is okay — this is how things stay light. There's a right amount of time: enough to do it well, but not so much that you're spinning your wheels, revving, stuck somewhere because you have time to be stuck (you don't).
Because then it's time for the photos, and you have this moment where you're standing there holding a cross-stitched apron and you realize that all of the thinking, all of the designing, the hours and hours and hours you spent stitching the thing, it all goes into that one photo. You generally just get that one photo with which to honor that project. Very few people (like, maybe seven) will actually see the project in real life. And you love your project. Your project has become your BFF since you never leave the house anymore and all your real friends have forgotten you exist and won't remember until April 15 (the manuscript due date) when you come tearing out of the house singing show tunes at the top of your lungs. You want to get it right. Otherwise, what's the point? If this — stitching things — is what you're doing with your life, if this is what you believe in (and I do), then you want to get it right.
But it's funny because, as lofty as your Photographic Goal is, you are constantly brought down to earth by your very prosaic circumstances: The light is bad (this is March in Oregon — there is no light), there's too much clutter, you're stressed about the economy, other stuff, the house is damn tiny and you can't pull the tripod back far enough to minimize the distortion, it's pouring rain, you suck at taking pictures, and at everything, all things, in general.
But then sometimes you get a day that feels just right, where everything comes together, with really cool people, a little alchemy. And that was last Thursday. It happened to be the eleventh anniversary of my accident, the thing that brought me to all of this in the first place. Sometimes you get a day where it — your project/your life, in all its flaws, ommisions, and challenges — is still better than you could've hoped, and the photo says more than you even knew you knew about it. That's the hat trick. Even getting just one is enough to keep you going. Even if no one else notices it but you. And I think we got a few. At least a couple of pages of heart and soul.
Beautiful post.
Wow, you sure know how to paint a picture with words! Having read your blog for the last couple of years, I could actually visualize you going through all of those motions. And it was colorful and exciting...and I can't wait to see it come to life on the pages of your new book. Congratulations!
You know Alicia, I for one can't wait!
Love to you
Jane
Xx
Wow. Wow. I can't wait to see it.
Alicia
I am so happy for you and glad the photo shoot went well.
I read through this whole thing (oh yes I did) and I know you lived & breathed this project and that it's going to be amazing because I just do and you are amazing and so hardworking.
I look forward to seeing the product.
I anticipate your Spring will be full of photos of flowers and merry making for all those friends you need to catch up with.
xoxo
Wow, thanks for this. I am blessed to be living "the craft life" myself and you really capture it with your words (and images.) Love it!
KT
Lovely indeed.
I can'twait to see the finished product.Kate
I'm antsy waiting for that heart and soul to be a book in my hands...
What a great summary of it all. I was constantly running through the house, finished project in hand asking my husband, "Is this Book-Worthy? I love it too, but is it WORTHY?"
This was such a nice post to read - to see the whole process evolve. Look forward to seeing the finished result.
it's so, so good to read about working + dreaming + designing + planning + lots more work all coming together to make something beautiful!!! you have such a personable and wonderful way of describing it and it inspired me so much to not give up. thank you! :)
You know you do that, right? You put heart and soul into everything we see. And what a great description of writing a book. I'm a fiction editor and I know that the authors I work with go through that process (without the embroidery and photography and some of them might pet cats rather than Clovers.)
Can't wait to see the new book and hope that we might get a peek at some of the photos that don't make it into the books (value added is the latest thing in publishing, don'tcha know?) (Though tell Clover we don't want to see any more decapitated projects; they're too distressing.)
thank you for sharing these words, this experience, today. i am so struck by how you see things and how you peel things back until deep gratitude is the truth that remains.
beautiful.
hope the sun is shining in portland today...
blessings,
liz
How Wonderful! You have a great attitude...appreciating the people around you, looking back with fond perspective on your most recent project-journey, and deep understanding of how Life delivers beautiful gifts (wrapped in puzzling packaging)
I can hardly wait to see your latest beauties :)
I am a lurker here but always find such inspiration in your posts that I feel I need to step up and tell you so. It doesn't seem fair for me to sit out here in the shadows anymore. I love this blog post so much. I am an artist piecing together an exhibition and not a book like you but I can relate to so much of what you have written in this post. I particularly love this part: "But then you start working on them and they start changing and growing and getting bigger, and getting better...". That whole paragraph really spoke to me.
I will continue to be a fan of your blog and I look forward to seeing your book!
Beautiful post! Love it.
This is a wonderful post detailing the process of creating, not just a book or a piece of embroidery, but anything into which we pour heart and soul. That thing that we create - a dinner, a pillow, a garden contains part of ourselves and in turn becomes part of us.
Lorrie
i think you said it just right...
I can't wait for the book & the beautiful photos to be in my hands! You are also a gifted writer you know! I love checking in here.
I'm really, really looking forward to seeing the new book - I'm actually holding off on purchasing a new embroidery book until yours comes out. :-)
Wowzerina (my latest word - it's like Wow, but much much better!).
Somehow your posts always seem to make me feel like I need to live my dreams. Especially this one. I'm on way to a needle and thread already!
i can't wait to see what you (and andrea!) came up with. i'm looking forward to finding that project to get me stitching. :)
Now I'm even more excited to see the finished product! I've only a made a few projects from Stitched in Time but I look through the book many a night before bed just because it's so very pretty and inspiring and soothing, too, to read your words, stare at your handiwork and visualize the thoughts and experiences that went into creating it all.
I know this new book is going to be just as spectacular and inviting. Can't wait!
Long, long, LONG live those magical days, those magical moments when hard-fought projects come together. Congratulations, revel in it!