Tuesday, September 18, 2012


Upon Artistic Appreciation

I was reading a book tonight, and one of the characters said "this is a play that would be best presented in the dark. And in pantomime."

This reminded me of one of my favourite reviews, which started with something like "Leaving an impression as lasting as that of Whistler's Father ..."

This makes me snort every time I think of it. I may be a bitch. I should also never be allowed to review anything.

The first paragraph of this post was referring to a community production of The Sound of Music, which is a movie I hate with every fibre of my soul, having been forced to watch it about 40 times as a child. I always want to yell to the Nazis that the family is hiding behind the cart ... but if they were even slightly competent, they would have found them anyhow. I mean, there were what, seven people standing behind some sort of cart and nobody looked? As if.

Yes, this makes me hideous and mean-spirited, but whatever. If I can live with it, you can too.

But it made me think about how artists are so concerned about public opinion. And me ... I guess I'm not. When I make something, when I dye something, it takes effort and it takes emotional connection. However when it's done, for me, that's it. If someone buys the things I dye and wants to knit washcloths, willie warmers or just landfill it, it makes absolutely no difference to me. The joy is in the making.

Once I've done it and you've bought it, I never think of it again.

I've had my yarn reviewed a few places. I have never read the reviews. I've never asked anyone to send me pictures of completed items. I guess I'm cold as ice or something.

But you see, for me, the reward is the making of the yarnz. Once it leaves here and belongs to someone else, I really couldn't care less if someone lets their chihuahua eat it (don't let your chihuahua eat it, it will tangle up inside them and they will die -- it's not a good idea).

I was happy to hear once that a friend was knitting in public with my yarn and she was asked what colourway of Wollmeise she was knitting, and she said "no, it's not Wollmeise, it's Rabbitworks" but really, that's about as far as my ego extends.

I'm really happy that the things I dye, that make me happy while dyeing them, make other people happy to own them, but once it leaves my house, it no longer belongs to me. And so it's yours, and you may do with it as you wish.

Am I alone amongst artists that I feel no connection to the things that I create once they leave my hands? I don't think so.

But maybe it's just me.

And to those of you who have bought my yarnz or my fibre; I'm delighted that you love them. I won't be able to dye much of anything for the next year or so, as we are moving to a smaller place and it likely won't have a space for me to work. I'll start up again next summer when we buy a house (at LAST ... I can't take this moving all the time shit; I need a nest). In the meantime ... the stuff I've made; it's yours, not mine. Just don't feed it to your chihuahua.

Hey,kiddo -- I love your yarn. Chihuahuas, not so much. So my small collection is safe. I have a skein you dyed in a rich coffee color (oops, colour) that I just keep around to look at because it is so perfect. And I don't even like brown!! (Yeah, I know you weren't fishing for compliments, but here is one anyway.)
I knew I wasn't the only one who hated "The Sound of Music". Thanks for the post and welcome back.

Lord God, even Christopher Plummer hated "The Sound of Music" (he famously called it "The Sound of Mucous"). Of course, sometimes unbelievable saccharine slop is just what a person needs...but I digress. I have heard or read that a good many artists feel exactly as you describe about their work. Many actors never ever look at themselves on screen, authors won't read the published version of their Great Novel, etc. I've never seen your stuff, so I won't try to compliment your dyeing skills, and I don't even remember why I started reading your blog, because I'm not a knitting, dyeing or fabricating kind of person in any way. But I love ya, just the same.
You weren't here, I was sure you weren't here. My Google Reader said you weren't here and that you hadn't posted in forever. But you are here and dang it I've been missing all your posts. This has to be the bummest part of a bum week. Or not. Cos I just got to catch up, in a mega Rabbitch fest of blog reading. Best lunch hour I've had all week. Just saying :D
My mom spent weeks crocheting blankets for 6 family members. After the holidays, she noticed that her lovingly crocheted, massively sized blanket was being used by the dog for a bed. My grandmother felt this was the best use of the blanket since she felt like the dog was her little four-legged kid. My mom hasn't crocheted since. Who cares what they do when they get it?? And yea, I must be a bitch too, cause it makes me giggle a little every time I see that dog on that blanket.
Happy autumn over-eating season!

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