Ah Birdie! She is finally finished and oh boy, I crawled over the finish line with her. There is something strange and altogether unsettling that happens to a maker of things when they realise that they can indeed make most things...or at least have a decent crack at it. We have to make it all.
Over the last few months I have become shadowed by a looming mountain of projects. I began writing "to do" craft lists each day in order to slowly sift through the chaos that was my craft cupboard and filed these beside day to day errands, shopping and house work. These had the pungent odour of "chore" about them and the joy that I once gleaned from creating with my hands had all but dried up.
The completion of Birdie (named after a favourite story) however, was the catalyst for change. Yes she was an incredible achievement; something I'd always wanted to make. And yes, she is much loved by Bijou. But the time, the effort, the perseverance I poured into her didn't reap the pride and satisfaction I expected. Quite the opposite. The tediousness that was the last few hours of her creation left a bitter taste in my mouth. I felt a fool! I have let my ideals about handmade become a dogma I know longer wish to prescribe to. What is the sense in "handmaking" my world when it snuffs out the spark of creativity?
I make every gift we give. I make all those things that make our household tick along. I make my children's clothes (well, alot of them). Lately, I've made an awful lot of work for myself. Creating runs through my veins and the "mend and make do" philosophy is an ideal we are passionate about so yes, I will continue to do alot of these things. But only those that resonate with meaning. Passed onto kindred spirits who hold dear the value of handmade. Things that enrich our lives.... things that nourish my soul. I can not nor will not do it all. The winds of change are blowing my friends. And my they smell sweet.