I’ve decided I’m working on a dumb personal art project. I say it’s dumb because my mom told me it was. Actually that isn’t what she said. She said it was just “ridiculous” and laughed, because I know she doesn’t understand it.
Neither do I though.
I began working on a scarf in the summer on one of those little loom things. I know it’s really the cheater way, but I don’t know how to knit. So yeah I’m shamelessly cheating. But, you gotta do what you gotta do. Anyway, I started working on this thing, and I’m kinda pushing myself through it, because I get bored of projects that take too long. Then one day, as I was forcing myself to do it so I kept myself from being depressed, I began wondering if I would ever finish the dumb thing because of how slowly I was working on it.
Then I began wondering if it ever had to be finished?
I’m on my second ball of yarn. A multicolored strand of orange, teal, brown and white. Just like the first. Hand dyed so there is no pattern. A perfect metaphor for this phase in life. Chaotic and oddly colored. One night I had a bad bought of depression so I cut the yarn and wove in some white tatting string. It makes a ghostly hole in the color. Like numbness. So I feel like any time I feel depressed I think I’m going to cut the yarn and put the tatting string in for as long as I feel like weaving it in…or until those overwhelming moments go away. As for mistakes, I’m troubleshooting through them without unraveling the scarf. Keeping every mistake and imperfection in it. Making the scarf feel human.
I plan on working on this thing until I die. Or maybe a year. Or this might just be some kind of idea that lasts just for tonight. If I want to work on smaller scarf projects I will just have to buy a smaller loom. But for now, I think I actually want to do this. To keep going with this idea. Maybe it will sit in a museum somewhere after I die as some kind of Postmodern or Contemporary piece of art. Maybe when I die I’ll be buried with it, or have it displayed at my funeral as something tedious that I did with my life, recording it with string and varying colors of yarn.
Maybe I’m just being dumb, but until I decide that, I’m going to keep going with the project. Maybe something will come of it. Maybe nothing will come of it. It will just exist. Like a novel that is never written, but forever exists as “the novel I’m working on” in the mind of the alleged author. Perhaps this will be “the scarf I’m working on” in my own head. Either way it will give me something to do for those moments I don’t have anything to do, or need something to do that is more constructive.