idea day

a rare, precious (and crazy-making) thing

So there I was: sipping coffee, snuggling the dog and drawing the morning comic—just 7 AM business as usual—

—when suddenly I was struck with an idea.

“What? Again? Oh no.”

Exhausted from pursuing the previous five—

—who had the wherewithal to chase a sixth?

Because yes — after writing optimistically about my linen-fueled tapestry last week, I’d spent the better part of this one in a merry dance of weaving, unweaving and trying again, and had finally made the decision to give it a rest and turn to something else.

Except— gosh— those paper quills— so patient—so colorful.

It couldn’t hurt to tap in a color or two.

Or three

Or maybe five.

And why not? The “something else” I’d turned to had itself become somewhat recalcitrant, and it sounded far more satisfying to play with squares of color than wash more sweaters. I mean, how much productive procrastination can a person stand?¹

And it’s not like that “something else” was truly essential.

Sure, it’s just a thing I do every year around now. But no one is going to be mad if I don’t send a seasonal card. I don’t have to.

After all I didn’t do it last year.²

Except this year I want to.

Because for some reason, making, addressing, writing and sending a card about now³ is one of the few reliable ways I have to cajole myself into feeling festive. And it’s nice to feel festive—to celebrate, or at least acknowledge the power of the darkest days, the turning of the year, the hopeful coming of the light.

It’s also a tradition. Card-sending that is.⁴

1965

At least it was for my parents.⁵

1969

Year after year my father and his trusty Nikon recorded our lives.

Decade after decade my mother commandeered the dining room table, settled in with her address file and wrote personal notes to every single person in that box.⁶ She was amazing and inspiring.

So of course I rebelled.

1999—the one year I did a photo card.

I mean, who would want to do all that work year after year after year?

Well yes, I tried the photo thing a couple of times. But I couldn’t keep it up.

Couldn’t, at any rate, until I realized that if I made it even more laborious, it became a source of pleasure.⁷

I mean what better way to gobble up ever-darkening evenings that might otherwise be spent weaving tapestries or thinking up excellent gifts than carving rubber rectangles, smashing them on a stamp pad, slopping paint all over the result and sending inky love to friends and family?

How not to relish the delicious freedom of doing a half assed job at something you’re not very good at, secure in the knowledge that being deeply goofy is part of the point and that (some) people might appreciate a good guffaw?

Unfortunately, after a few years I decided to “up my game”—tried to keep it fresh by carving actual linoleum and wood blocks. It was compelling for sure, but alas adding a brayer, barren and sticky printing ink also made the process itself seem more serious— the tools themselves seemingly implying that I needed to be “better” at it. And that bit of pressure did it in.

Besides, ink is so…. wet, you know? And carving can be hard on the hands.

Happily, I’d decided to invest in an iPad about then,⁸ so for the next few years I got to be a beginner with that.

First I just made digital black and white drawings (easily printed onto card stock at the copy shop), and colored over those. And when painting every card individually seemed too much, I started adding digital color.

Naturally, I am capable of making this “more efficient” system as labor intensive and immersive as block-carving and manual printing.

Because even when you have an idea, a digital drawing can be tweaked and revised, colored and re-colored until —well, forever. And while all that messing about is as deliciously addictive as editing the missive I’m writing this very moment, I still can’t begin without the ever-elusive initial idea. And until that arrives—well a gal might well find herself washing a whole lot of sweaters.

Unless, of course, she is lucky enough to be (re)seduced by a previous project.

And then maybe—while sneaking off to canoodle with her loom—then writing about it—she might—out of the blue—have an———

Gosh. Gotta go.

Wish me luck!

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1. The more productive the procrastination, the more mired I apparently am.

2. New widow and all that. It was just too much.

3. Post Cards mind you. What’s not to love about a form where the address takes up half the available news-sharing space when you have 50+ cards to send? Yes, sometimes the images get damaged in the mail, but surprisingly few. Indeed, inspired by the American Tapestry Alliance’s post card project (which, truth to tell, I’ve only done once), I like to embrace the magic of sending bits of art through the mail for all to see if they want to.

4. I know many people really struggle with the dark and the grey (Happy Lights sound like a marvelous invention), and I feel deeply fortunate that I generally see it as a luscious time where (shoveling aside), the days have more room for reading, dreaming, soup making and yarn-centric pursuits. Plus, the light is amazing. Anna Brones and Antonia Malchik both write about noticing and light in recent posts— highly recommended!

5. My Grandmother and aunts also all send/sent cards every year—every flat surface (and many walls) covered with cards they receive….

6. It always seemed that she sent thousands. And honestly, I’ve no idea how many there actually were — only that they overflowed an index card box and that many of the 3x5 cards were covered on both sides with multiple addresses (and sometimes last or first names) crossed out, added, and crossed out again— each one a personal history of someone she might have known since kindergarten.

7. I think it might have to be my motto: When in doubt, choose the slowest, most labor intensive process you can find.

8. I began using the Procreate app right away (it’s way fancier now than it was then), adding an Apple Pencil as soon as I could. Digital drawing is not the medium of my dreams, but it can be an interesting (and less hand-intensive) sideline to the more physical processes to which I’m devoted.