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I’m very suggestible. When a fiber arts colleague on Instagram shared her wisdom about material storage, I accepted and felt compelled to honor her methodology.
“At what point do you throw out leftover pieces of wool?” I asked, especially once I’d begun using a die-cutting tool which allowed me to make ¼” circles.
“When they’re dust,” she replied with only a touch of irony. Wanting to be the good student, I held onto every ½” or larger morsel of wool from that moment forward.
Until I had my organizer visit to rescue me from drowning in tiny wool scraps. I thought I would win her over to my new way of thinking using the ‘dust’ quote.
But she came back with her own hard-won wisdom. “Your colleague lives in the country where storage is not at a premium. You’ve chosen to live here, and that limits your options. Your job is to create within the limitations that choice allows.” Boom!
Her sage advice gave me the freedom to let go of hoarding and say ‘no’ to thinking small.
Last month I signed up for a free, 8-session Photo Book class being offered through the NY Public Library system. The first session was promising as the instructor showed striking images by well-known photographers. She pointed out their compositions, use of light and movement.
However, when we began moving around our own images using Canva, the range of capabilities among the senior learners was vast and overwhelmed the young instructor. I opted out of the remaining meetings because I valued my time more than the need to be polite.
A good friend and interior designer employed by a high-end house shared an image of an item recently purchased by a client. It was a gold-leaf coffee table that sold for $50K. “The customer is extremely fussy and examined every inch of the surface looking for flaws. I do think your pillows could work for us though.”
Hearing about that level of scrutiny made my stomach churn. My pieces are one-of-a-kind, handmade and take hours and hours to create and stitch. The possibility of them being rejected with a remark like “These stitches aren’t perfectly even” or a similar fault-finding phrase made me quiver. I called her the next day and said, “No thank you.”
The beauty of saying “no” is that it frees you up to say “yes” when the opportunity arises.
I’m in the process of redecorating my living room. The designer moved around several pieces of my art and left the wall over the couch completely open for a new creation. It will be the largest piece I’ve made to date. She gave me the dimensions, and we discussed the composition she would like to see in that space.
Based on her description, my mental image went right to an art exhibit I saw years ago at the Whitney Museum. It was a collection of quilts by untrained artists in Gee’s Bend, Alabama. One of my favorite possessions is the book of that display, one of the few art books I’ve hung onto over my last several moves.
Here’s a peek at my progress on that project.
I hope to have it completed and hung by my next newsletter (or two!).
Because I said “no” to so many distractions over the past couple of months, my time and resources opened up the space to have this new adventure.
I’d love to hear your story about setting boundaries and what expanded for you as a result.
Wishing you all a peaceful holiday season and many reasons to celebrate in 2025.
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