I was eyeing my bamboo scarf this morning. It's waiting on the coat rack for me and for the proper Fall morning. I get such a thrill from the handful of things that other people have knit for me. That gratitude helps me remember why people are so excited (okay, sometimes a little stampedey) about my work. It helps me hold onto what is special and good, not about what I make per se, but how I go about it. Because there is always something exhilarating but also terrifying about relaxing into the smallness of what I do. I'm not trying to fill someone else's retail store, not trying to get discovered and hit the big time, not trying to hire people to do my work for me ... so what am I doing?
Well, today I am: sewing a heap of gray and black clothes for an out of town customer who'll be visiting the studio this weekend. I know what she likes! High sculpted collars, lots of gray, and even more black. So I'll have a fine pile of stuff for her to try on when she arrives. It's one of the joys of working small and knowing my people. It's so much the opposite of trying to please everyone ... it's just this: me sitting at my machine thinking of what I know of L. - which is only what she has already bought from me, and some details from a few email chats. It's not exclusive, exactly - it's not even fancy. But it's enough to work from. It's just me making stuff for you. It's simple and direct and nice. I'll do it for you if you want. It is my honor.
Two of my sisters and a niece brought lunch to me today at the studio. A favorite moment: when we swiftly decided that the pie-shaped and square-shaped contingents could each have the cornbread they desired. Now that's diplomacy.
Fuzzy self portrait of me today.