Two months without sewing or knitting (head hammers the key board). My hands are always busy with something. Right now my dominant arm is broken and hand casted; making it hard to work or keep busy. At least I learned never to trust a GPS from the car rental companies.
Two weeks left in my sentence and today I sit in my darkened bedroom, hiding from the heat outside, and acting my age for once. There are very, very few 25 year olds that I know that would rather sit in the shade outside sewing or reading a book. My computer works over time trying to keep up with videos, games, instant messages, and the almighty blog.
I found that my left hand can make some interesting abstract sewing. It’s impossible to get knots out, which is making for an interesting picture. If people will pay 100k for something a chimp dragged its butt on maybe I can get 20 dollars for a work of clumsy knots.
Since I’ve been off from working, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the fiber arts. Reading through magazines and books it’s a bit discouraging to see how few embroiders knitters and crocheters are recognized or even remembered. You go to a museum and find all these elaborate silk robes, wedding dresses made for royalty, shawls worn by saints. It’s a bit discouraging to think that the people who may eventually own our art will have more recognition then the skilled hands that spent long tedious hours perfecting and honing their craft. Yet I keep going even with a broken arm, not for the fame that rivals the great painters, or the hope that my death will triple the value of my art, but because I love it.
(Who am I kidding, I do this for the money, and to rule a post-apocalyptic society)