Many, many moons ago, I went to art school. I loved to draw and would tote my sketch book everywhere I went. That’s what art students did (in addition to wearing flannel shirts and Doc Martens— it was the 90s, after all). I ended up majoring in Industrial Design, because though I was an art student, I was still practical. Major in Design, I told myself. You can get a good job in Design, my parents said. But really, I just loved to draw.
So I graduated and got a good job in Design (designing washing machines, of all things!), and the years passed, and I had many good jobs, and got lots of promotions, and eventually there wasn’t much drawing anymore, and I told myself that I didn’t really care or miss it.
And I didn’t really miss it, until lately.
It’s funny that when I started cross stitching (and this little ol’ blog) three years ago, I didn’t realize what an impact it would have on my life. Something about the slow steady process of cross stitching opened up the floodgates of self exploration for me. Maybe all those hours sitting there stitching, with only my thoughts for company, got things percolating in my head. Somewhere inside of me, the idealistic art student started to feel stifled by the frustrated Corporate Creative Director.
Suddenly I wanted to create all kinds of things; with thread, in the kitchen, through music, in the garden, and even… maybe… drawing again? (eek!) It’s scary to even say (write) that out loud. Weird and crazy and kinda neat, right?
So after many, many years I am cracking open a sketchbook, and picking up a pencil, and seeing what these (rusty) sketching fingers can do.
And isn’t it funny that flannel is back in style again?