Lovely Win Currie asked me the last time I was in Marlborough if I am now weaving "professionally." Yes, in as much as one beautiful gallery has my stuff and occasionally some of the pieces sell, and that's my only income. That, and some commission work. But to say I am weaving "professionally" is an exaggeration.
What I don't understand is, I do love every single process involved in weaving, (except winding the warp onto the back beam.) I revel in the simplicity of each task, and the repetitive physicality. As soon as I start one or another of the process, my body remembers it, and I'm on almost-auto-pilot. So why do I avoid work so often?
I'm beginning to see I will never be a prodigious weaver, or a prodigious anything, but will forever be distracted by lots of things, blogging included. I still find the required transition between the word world and the design world difficult, and I have to move between the two deliberately. Sometimes I just need to shut up and stop reading words and go to my stash room. But sometimes, lately, it happens without my intending to, and I find myself in the other place, like Scotty beamed me up or down or sideways without my asking.
Years ago, I saw a documentary in which a young Russian woman said in Russia, before you go somewhere, you sit down on a chair by your door and relax just for a minute before you leave. I want a mental chair so I can travel back and forth at will.
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