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By 9:35 AM , , , ,

Originally uploaded by looseid

Since the Montessori School on Lake St. has become the official beneficiary, aka a bottomless pit, for my "art supplies", every box I open is a moment of rejoice. It's like the scene when Jules and Vincent peer into the briefcase in Pulp Fiction to find the unspeakable truth or the opening scene in Goodfellas, where Henry Hill opens the trunk of his car and "loud, slurpy stabbing sound effects" follow when Tommy slices up the mobster inside.

I can't elucidate why donating to a pre-school conjures up two iconically violent gangster flicks from the 1990's. But I'd like to think that on a transcendental level they're all pointing to the wonderment of coming face to face with a discovery. I may be reaching here, so don't bother to psycho-analyze.

This time it's a batch of samples, swatches and pieces from my years at RISD studying Textile Design. They were woven samples I designed on the dobby loom, 4 & 8 harness looms and industrial Jacquard loom. Amongst them were also knitted samples from my Brother knitting machine, screenprints, batik and a plethora of sketches from the dye studio. I tossed in the Medusa-inspired serpentine headdresses from my senior show for good measure.

Handling the swatches reminded me of the sensory satisfactions of making fabric. Soft, silky, slinky, fluffy, fuzzy, wiry, scratchy, smooth, nubby, coarse, stretchy, woolly, dense, stiff, lacy, shimmery. When I had gone through all six boxes, the scraps on the floor stared back at me like a pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces. But I was a little fuzzy on the finished picture.

Where was I going with this back then?

This spring, projects that didn't make it to the finish line are leaving this house. I'm starting with ones that physically take up space, like paintings, garments, quilts, drafts of stories and scripts, unedited film, because they're tangible and they free up real estate. I'm not stopping at creative projects, though. Some of these dead-end projects are household ones, like repairing a sticky door or using up an ingredient in the freezer.

Even if each beginning held blindingly hopeful promises of a brilliant end, the fact is, time is up for me to bring it to fruition. There is a window of time to complete an idea and that window has long shut for these babies. As they say, one must "strike while the iron's hot." And once you lose momentum, you lose the soul of your intent and you're just dragging a carcass around.

These aren't projects that I simply haven't finished or gotten around to. These are nagging projects that I know in my heart of hearts that I will never finish. I'm not a quitter. But when the love is gone, or worse yet, you realize that the love was never there, you must kick it to the curb so that you can make way for more significant challenges ahead. It's like I'm at a party entertaining these dour, humorless guests, while my friends are on their way, but stuck in traffic - so demoralizing.

Right now, wiping the slate clean is the most efficient solution.
Out, out, everybody, out.

Again, I'm grateful for the Montessori School for helping me out and can surmise that it's largely due to the fact that three year-old's have greater imaginations than gangsters on any given day.

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  1. We were out from old Meeting Place, and moved to Montessori School. It's nothing to do with your thought, but is just my association.

    We love Montessori people, and they love us.

  2. 本当に関係ないけど、コメントありがとう。