The Rest of Saturday

But life goes on. As I was thinking nothing I weave will ever be as fabulous as the few I wove in late 2005, through Connie Rose, I found this TED. I love TED, but what a shining soul, this woman!

I tend to think my creativity is my responsibility, and take credit and criticism as mine. In the same way that if I make a mistake in life, I take responsibility, even if I'm misled or coerced. I did the deed so I take responsibility, it's as simple as that.

I know better experienced artists have muses, geniuses and lightening strikes. I don't. Most everything I weave is the result of hard slog, a more calculated planning, a design process. So I seem to think my weaving comes from within me, not from the ether. I understand artists with muses show up to work, put in the hours, and do the hard slog as well, but I. Don't. Understand. The. Muse. Thing.

I've been trying for years now to be open to the unexpected, selecting choices that are counterintuitive, sometimes even appalling, colors and structures I normally wouldn't choose, to the point where I don't know what I would have normally chosen. I can't remember how I used to weave with blues. But it doesn't seem to be enough, or I'm too much of an ego-maniac.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I find the muse talk somewhat uncomfortable, and throughly irresponsible. I don't know where responsibility ends and control takes over. But I'd like to stay open to possibilities. And I'd like to think not committing, this year, opens up the possibilities a bit more.

And I can't be sure, because I haven't read the whole thing yet, but Peg's post here seems to be on a similar track.

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