Throughout this semester I have felt torn. The nature of this class and exposure to campus and peers has indeed inspired me to make, but I have mostly felt motivated to make things for myself and for my household. This distracted me constantly. I made lists of things to make after the semester, hoping that compartmentilization would be my friend.
Shelving unit for kitchen, darn all socks, make oven mitt, turn a rolling pin, carve ceramics tools, build a better loom, sewing projects that have piled high, learn how to build chairs, build a stool for ceramics wheel, repair bat system, convert electric kiln to soda, search for lathe tools… the list goes on and on.
I didn’t think it was wise to spend time on these when I had school and work to prioritize. But it kept bothering me. I am driven to make things that are functional in nature. Experimenting without a clear goal in mind was not working for my creative juices, and so I listened to myself.
I started a new part time job this month, helping out a women in Kitsilano that owns and rents out seven properties, she sent out a call for a ‘garden helper’ and I answered. It has been clear to me for a while, but now evidently so, that I needed a tool belt. One that I could modify for the tasks of the day, whether it be gardening, ceramics, woodworking, foraging, etc. I built the belt from supplies at a leather shop in town, and got started with the attachments.
My household has inherited a sewing machine from the 60s this winter, one that I did not know needed maintenance. My hard and fast instincts to throw these ideas into action were foiled by this machine that kept screaming at me to get it serviced.
the very beautiful but very in need of repair machine
A borrowed machine and several trials and errors with thread tension, I’m happy with the result.
The canvas I used in this project is a large swath I bought over a year ago at a recycled fabric sale. I bought it with the intention of dying it and making an apron for my partner. That plan never came to fruition… but instead that same fabric served the role of drop cloth many times, it was the fabric I used to dry my cedar paper, it was the swatches I dyed for action four, it covers boards I use for wedging clay, and there is still so much more to spare.
I try to give thanks to this seemly endless bolt of cloth by doing right by it — by making things that matter to me, for a reason, and appreciating where they came from.