Putting yourself out there.

The hardest part about being an artist for me is putting myself out there on display. Well, not me so much I guess, but what I've made.

Today I wrote my first knitting pattern. For longer than I can remember I've wanted to design my own knitting patterns, and someday in the future have my own book. This pattern definitly won't be in my book, but I'm on my way.

Any publishers out there looking for an inexperience sculptural knitter? No? Okay, just thought I would try.

Knitting the shirt was easy. Writing the pattern was a challenge, but I think I did a good job. Sending the pattern to an ontheround customer who is going to try it out for me was scary as hell! I'm still sweating from the experience and all I had to do was upload the doc into an email and hit send. I feel like every one of my flaws is on display. I'm probably going to continue sweating until she finishes the peice and responds. Until then I'm going to have nightmares of incorrect measurments, too big arm holes, and spelling errors (I didn't have my mom edit this one, she doesn't understand knitting pattern lingo).

I much prefer making things and happily storing away in the closet for ever. That's not scary at all. If only I could make a living being a closet artist.

The need to make

I don't make things because I want to make, I make things because I need to make.

I recently moved across the country from Maine to Montana. I left my supplies and inventory for my online shop, www.ontheround.etsy.com, with my sister (and then ended up with my mother) to be mailed to me once my family and I found a place to live. So we found a place to live, and a week went by. And then another week went by...and I still hadn't received my things (I blame the universe, but my mother says ups is just slow).

I left a job in Maine that required me to make things as fast as I could all day, four days a week. Then in my spare time I made more things, either for my online business or for myself or maybe even someone I love. Basically my life involved mother duties, gf duties, daughter/sister duties, cleaning, a couple minutes of personal grooming, and making things. That’s it.

And then I left and three weeks past without making anything. The first week was travel, the second week was finding a place to live and exploring, and the third week was spent like this:

Pacing,
ranting,
compulsively checking various business, social, and email sites online,
protesting in a Martha Stewart living futon box,
protesting in the bath tub,
protesting in various national parks in the vicinity of Butte, MT,
begging,
crying,
praying,
hoping,
wishing,
dreaming.

I basically lost my mind for at least 48 hours. I couldn't make anything. I didn't have anything to make. I even reached the ultra low, low of going to Joanne fabric to purchase some acrylic yarn for a dress and some leg warmers (what???!?!?! so random). And there may have been some purchases that haven't shown up yet (another cruel and unusual joke from the universe).

From this experience, I've learned that I need to make things. Some how making things gives me order and control in a world where there is none. Making things makes me feel like I belong, and without it I'm a strange outsider. Making things makes me feel like I have a place in this world. I love making things. God help us all if I have to go another three weeks in my life not making things.
peace.