Every time I finish a creative project - be it sewing, or sketching, or figuring out what to put on a blank canvas (see blog entry "I have no idea what I'm doing...") I feel a flush of satisfaction, but also a pang of anxiety. I think it amounts to 'Quick, where's the next high?" It's occurred to me that choosing the fabric, taping colour swatches and staring at the empty space on the wall (for a couple of months, because I dig taking my time) is as enjoyable as getting the thing done. The above canvas went through several incarnations, but I actually enjoyed those false starts along the way. Kind of discouraging, yeah, but then...what the hell, let's just start again.The projects waiting to be started - the chair that needs recovering, the fabric stacks on the armoire, the just-bought pattern I ought to read through - much as they add an element of pressure, I'd feel less energized if they were missing. Too much and it's clutter, not enough and it's quiet...too quiet. I don't always achieve that balance, but if all else fails, I can hide a few things until I'm ready to take them on. Or not.
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