Wednesday, February 5, 2014
i am lost in a muffled fugue while i work. my days are stacked hours of brilliant and magnificent monotony. they are never the sort of disastrous drudgery to me that they may seem to anyone else. and my studio grows more and more chaotic as i work. it begins to bulge through the walls and into the rooms meant for less messy work. but in reality, there is no work that isn't messy. if it is fabric that i'm working with, the entire little house is an explosion of fabric and thread, color and design. and if i'm working with paper there is a flutter of scraps and ink and glue throughout. it just is. every month or so, i try to organize and fold and put the garbage out. but mostly, if i'm in my studio, i am there to work. i walk in the door and i'm crushed with the need to be into it at once. dragged into my own swirl of chaos. and energy. and almost frantic activity. when i apologize to visitors for the mess, it is half hearted at best. and when i come home at night i cuddle with tom and ezra on the couch, weary, but a little jazzed up too. we eat by the fire and find little worlds in our ipads to entertain us. tonight i sat with pinterest and saw dozens and dozens of studios. tidy and organized. clean spaces. or rooms of materials tightly and properly contained. the work seems far away in those rooms. it seems more about the romance of it all then the chaos of work. it made me think of my methods, my work that is almost always on the brink of disaster. and how i have very little say in it. how it takes me by the throat and i love it fully.