onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “art”

I can just get to work

I started doodling. And it’s maybe changing my life?

A lot of things have come together in my brain recently, that have changed the way I think about myself and my abilities. 

I have never been good at drawing. That just seemed like an obvious truth. I also have terrible penmanship. I really wanted to be one of those girls in school with the big loopy script. Or the ones who could change their handwriting at will! One girl in high school told me she was changing her w’s to a cooler style. I was thinking, you get a say in how you write your w’s????

And then I was thinking about teaching crochet. See, I hold my hook like I hold a screwdriver. But another very common way is to hold the hook like a pencil. And I tried to teach myself to hold my own hook like that, in case I need to demonstrate something to someone who holds their hook like a pencil. And I can’t. I was able to teach myself to crochet left handed holding it like a screwdriver, but I cannot do it with my dominant hand in a pencil grip. My fingers don’t work like that. 

So I have always had it hard wired in my brain that I am bad at visual art. And I have all of this evidence because my fingers don’t work like that. I am not saying I thought I was bad at art. But bad at anything that required me to take a 3 dimensional view and render it in 2 dimensions. In fact, oddly enough, I sometimes look at cartoons of animals to create a crochet pattern. In other words, I *can* do the opposite and take a 2 dimensional drawing and render it in 3 dimensions. I am great at knowing how string moves. I am a great fiber artist. I can knit and crochet and make friendship bracelets. The hardest part of embroidery for me is the drawing of the image.

But then I started doodling. Social media has been feeding me a steady diet of doodling content for a few months now. For a long time it was just satisfying to watch. But eventually I wanted to try. And I thought it was about the colors. Because most of these videos are so gorgeous and colorful. But I am actually pretty obsessed with plain black ink on the page. 

And then one of these videos said that a lot of creativity is not the result of being excited. It comes after repetition after repetition when you’re finally bored because you have made all of the obvious choices. 

So I have been making spider webs. And other fun stuff. But I keep coming back to spider webs. Over and over. Line drawings, or exploration of patterns and repeats, whatever. Just do it again.

And it has started to make some sense to me. It’s just shapes. And also, drawing is not an innate gift. Some people have a natural talent, but it can be learned. There are teachable techniques. Which I suppose I have always known, but not believed. Not for me, anyway. And MY FINGERS STILL DON’T WORK LIKE THAT! I make so many mistakes. Miss so many lines. But I’m learning how to use them, to incorporate them, to hide them, to just accept them.

I have to know in my heart and head that this place of ever evolving self acceptance that leads me to these new places of self discovery, that leads to deeper acceptance, and so on, is based on 20 cumulative years of choosing not to eat drug foods when shit got real. It’s 20 years of working through difficult situations by experiencing the pain, the disappointment, the discomfort, the stress, the joy, the excitement, the love. 20 years of eating three meals a day with Life in between. It’s 20 years of not being ashamed of myself for not being able to stop eating. 

Not being ashamed of myself has done wonders for my art.

I don’t have to be a visual artist. But I like that I don’t have to not be either. I don’t have to label it either way as part of my identity. And if the time comes when my doodling expands and visual art is part or all of what I want to create, I can go in without thinking I am “bad at” something. I can just get to work. 

All the gratifications

I was a child throughout the 80s. I can remember them. And one thing I can remember is the feeling I got when I obtained something shiny, new, and mass produced. It always felt perfect. Pristine. And that felt so special. Filled with potential. (I also kept stickers on their sheets. Undiagnosed ADHD? My friends would say yes…Anyway…)

Recently I have come to a realization. That I feel the opposite now. That I am unimpressed (and honestly a little repulsed) by anything that looks mass produced. I like things lived in, imperfect, filled with personality. And I don’t know when it started to flip. 

Perhaps it is from the way I changed my framing. 

One of the things that I changed my framing for, was my art. Because (even before fake AI images) so much of the kind of art I make – crochet toys especially- is only presented in public or on social media when perfect. Perfectly round, perfectly straight, perfectly placed. Cute and symmetrical. And my art is…not. It’s filled with uneven smiles and wonky eyes.

For a long time my style made me ashamed. Not polished enough to be considered “well made.”

But then I realized that that arm sewn on funny makes him look like he’s shrugging, or her nose over too far on one side looks like a sneer. So now I sometimes purposely leave the accidents  because they create personality. And I value personality. I value nuance and uniqueness. I value the story that can be told in a weird arm shrug or an expression of arrogance, its own kind of micro storytelling.

I also value craft and learning. I value the intent that I put out into the world when I take something from an idea to a tangible object, and let myself express all along the way. Let my hands do their job, without letting my imagination micromanage. I value the time I put into a long term piece that feels like it will never be done, so that I get to put the idea of “done” aside and just do. Things that take time REQUIRE that I make the time. The middle has to get done too. 

Back in the 80s, the other side of the joy over the pristine mass produced toy, was how quickly it scuffed, scratched, got broken or lost. And then I was let down. And so much more deeply than a 99c toy should warrant. (I was a VERY sensitive little kid.)

But ultimately, any and all change in my thinking started when I stopped eating my drug foods and I put boundaries around my eating. Because when I was eating sugar and eating compulsively, I didn’t have the capability or capacity to do things that required delayed gratification. I ate sugar, my brain went *ding ding ding.* So the thought of doing anything that didn’t end in *ding ding ding* was painful. Literally painful.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a 49 year old woman in the US. I still love me some instant gratification. I just know that it’s not sustainable for the kind of life I want to live. So lately I’m working on many kinds of projects. Short term (crocheted Möbius strip fidget toys) long term (a queen sized knit blanket) and in between (my convertible toy.) And I get to love each in their own way. I guess this is me getting all the gratifications. 

Play

I finished my convertible toy this week and she is adorable! I am very proud of her. 

When I make, there is a lot of variation in completion. Some things get made. Some things get made several times over in different iterations. And some things get started, or even more than half way completed, and then sit. And sit. 

Some are still sitting. Some got thrown away. (How expensive was the yarn…)

It’s not about time, and it’s not about skill. 

I have a cable knit blanket that was so complicated that I couldn’t do anything simultaneously while I made it. No audiobooks or TV. Just me and the cable pattern and bamboo needles so the stitches didn’t fall off. And when the hard part was over, all there was (is) left was (is) the border. It has been almost a decade since I worked on that border. 

But I have completed huge projects. Hours of labor and hundreds of dollars of yarn. Complicated designs I had to make up on my own. 

I don’t know what it is that makes me finish and what makes me abandon a project. But I will tell you that it used to make me FEEL a certain way to look at all of my unfinished projects, like I wasn’t serious. Like I “never” followed through. 

And then I really looked at all of the things I have completed. I have dozens of little pieces as well as multiple blankets at home and that doesn’t include any of the gifts I have made. Or the trinkets I made so I could practice a technique and then give them away. Or the things that I made to use every day like my craft basket or my cat’s “grab and go” basket so I can throw her favorite things in and hit the road. But why does the finishing have to mean so much? 

The longer I have my eating under control the more I like myself, the more generous I can be with myself, the more I can listen to myself. The less I need to judge. After all, what is there to judge? 

I am proud of my many and varied pieces. But also, I don’t need to put a judgement on everything. Why does a completed project have to mean more than an unfinished one to me? I am learning. I am playing. I am thinking. Why isn’t that just enough? 

I heard an anecdote recently about a school that had two pottery classes. One was graded on the beauty of their final project. One was graded on the number of pieces they could make in the semester. They literally just put them on the scale and added up the weight. And then they had people (artists and non artists alike) view them in two rooms, and everyone said the best pieces were in the room where they prized quantity over quality. I bet the worst were there too. *shrug*

I want to play. I am almost 50 years old. I want to make and hate and throw away and love and be surprised, and push through the hating stage to the loving stage, to trust the process.

I only have this much time and awareness right now because I have twenty years of having my eating under control. In the food I exhibit all of the addict behavior. Because I have all of the addict thoughts. Two decades of not having constant food noise in my head gives me time and opportunity to examine my life, my choices, my body, my thinking, my morals and my priorities.

So anyway, I DID finish my toy. “Be home by midnight or you’ll turn into a Pumpkin.” 

Skills issue

I have been making friendship bracelets, which is a kind of macrame. It’s one of those crafts that is easy to do but it takes patience and a kind of precision to do it well. And it also has a range of complexities. The number of colors, the intricacies of the particular pattern. From simple to mind bending. 

And it’s exciting. All of these ideas buzzing around, thoughts about the different ways to use these techniques on a different scale. My brain is coming up with all of these fun, half formed, colorful ideas. Big abstract weird ideas. I could do X! I could do Y!!! 

And now is that part where I remind myself that I can’t do X or Y until I do the ABCs. 


My creative eyes have always been too big for my practical abilities. When I first got back into crochet as an adult with my eating under control, I decided I wanted to crochet a dress. I knew how to crochet a square or a rectangle and decided it would be easy enough to just try my hand at a dress. Not a dress pattern. Just a freehand dress.

Needless to say, I did not have the skills. And I never actually did crochet myself a dress, but I absolutely could now. Yes even free hand. And I have free-handed some really spectacular doll dresses. Because I learned to do complicated things one step at a time. Over years. I needed to do a bunch of skill building. And that comes in steps. First things first.

I have written before that getting my eating under control taught me to be patient. Gave me enough clarity to learn. Taught me to understand how I learn best (symbol charts are usually the best way for me to understand what I am looking at when I am first learning a new craft.) Gave me the time to do something in between my meals. 

But it also made it possible for me to enjoy the doing, in the moment. The undoing the imperfections. The perfecting. The getting it right.

I’m not a perfectionist. I even love a lot of the imperfections in my works when I knit and crochet. But as the beginner of this new craft, I want to KNOW it. And part of that for me is at least some period of doing it over and over and/or undoing and redoing it until it is perfect. 

That level of attention and presence is more important to me as a maker and artist now than it ever was before I got my eating under control. And that presence and peace is only there because I am not thinking about my drug foods all of the time.

Art and my noisy brain

I have been working on a crochet project for a few weeks, and I am in an uncomfortable but predictable place with it. I am a good portion of the way done and I have not been working on it almost at all for weeks, because I have begun to wonder if I actually hate it and have made a terrible mistake in trying to make it.

This is predictable because it happens every time I make a project that is an original idea and not based on a pattern. Every. Single. Time.

I know that this is the way of art. That there is nothing to do about it but keep going. And I even know somewhere in the back of my mind that it will probably be amazing, even if it is not perfect. And I know that I can alway frog it back (the common term for pulling out rows of stitches, because you rip it, rip it) and try again if I am so inclined. But knowing all of this does not particularly help me move in one direction or another.

My mind can be a bit of an echo chamber. Thoughts and ideas can bounce around in there for long periods of time, and grow or change shape in all kinds of unpredictable ways.

When I got my eating under control, an important early lesson was how I am “only as sick as my secrets.” That the things that I was afraid or ashamed of were amplified by my reluctance to talk openly about them. And once I found people on whom I could rely to be lovingly honest and nonjudgmental, I started telling my “secrets.” It turns out that the ghosts that can haunt me in my own mind are just shadows and dust bunnies when I shine a light on them. Sunlight is the best disinfectant.

But art (and yes, I do consider myself an artist, and the kind of crafting I do art) is not merely an idea or a concept. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, as they say. (I know, they don’t say that. But they should.) And art is not about ideas, but execution. So even if I were to wax poetic about my current project, which I occasionally do, it still doesn’t change the fact that it is not really anything until it is finished. It is not the idea that is haunting me, but my ability to make the idea tangible, and the reality of whether I can, in fact, manage to do that.

What I have learned about making in the 16+ years since I put boundaries around my eating is to trust the process. To fully embrace this place where I am stuck. To make friends with the rattling jumble of noise in my head. To honor the uncertainty and fear, and then, eventually, push through. To recognize that the idea and the object that is born from it are never the same. That art and craft are different, and that my art will only ever be as good as my skill in the craft. That there will always be more craft to learn, so make the art now anyway. 

Like I said before, I have this experience every time I create something from my own mind. And everything I have ever hated half way through, I have come to love upon completion. So I will probably make a few smaller projects or try some new techniques, and give myself a little distance from this major creative undertaking, and then I will come back to it and power through. And we shall see what I end up with.

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