Yesterday, while hanging out with friends, I was working on an embroidery project that I have been liking less and less as I go along. I'm splitting the floss to three strands. It looks course and simple to me, and I have to constantly remind myself this is proper for the project, which is supposed to look simple and rustic.
I know someone one who is usually uses six strands. She is know for her speed and generosity in giving gifts of her work. I look at it and I see the coarseness of six strands. I don't want to criticize the quality of something that fills a need and is appreciated, but I was raised to see the imperfection.
Because if it is worth doing, it is worth doing right.
My grandmother who fist taught me to set a needle to fabric most often used 2 strands, even one. I often looked at the fineness of her work and thought I could never hope to equal it. Many time in my life I have set embroidery aside, but I always seem to pick it up again in some form, from counting small crosses to free-handing fine silks. And yet, still I am my own worse critic and seem to see the flaws before the beauty.
Our landlord had to stop by for a plumbing issue yesterday, and she admired the fine stitching on the piece I'm working on. As we waited for the plumber to finish his task, she was amazed at the variety and quality of sewing and stitching that happens in my family. I know so many talented fiber artists, I forget that it is an amazing skill to some people, almost beyond understanding.
Today I'm trying to remember, it is about the process. I am soothed by the rhythm of needle moving though fabric. I am gratified when I create with my own hands something that is visually appealing and useful. I am trying to remember that not every project needs the perfection of tiny, one strand stitches.
What ever your art, whatever your skill, I hope you find joy in it today. One strand or six, or anywhere between, it is never about the perfection as much as it is about the love.
