Practicality of Craft - a Misleading Post Title

I wonder if pragmatism is one of the wisdoms that come with age or a sign I'm loosing my chutzpah.

I stared out my favorite late Friday afternoon window at the Polytech library waiting for Ben. Disappointingly, the library stopped subscribing to Ornament magazine in 2002, and what little they had (perhaps six years' worth) sat under the bookshelves collecting dust. So I had to take frequent rests between turning the pages or getting another issue out of those magazine boxes.

My thoughts meandered to examining when I became so gung-ho in "staying true to the craft of weaving"; what's so undesirable about crossing my, perceived divide, and whether there is a reward to staying heroically obstinate/loyal. And in an instant, I was so over it. Like that.

I am not quiting practicality, I'm not going to start making weird and strange "arty" things only, but I no longer feel unfaithful (i.e. "bad") just because I want to make things that are dangerously impractical. Long slender glass beads, uncomfortably hard material, and undesirable floats are all back in my toolbox. I only need to find suitable venues for those pieces.

Like many significant changes in my life, the decision, if you call it that, feels it was made for me, and once I realized this, I have a hard time remembering what all the fuss was about. I'm not exactly exhaling a sigh of relief, but looking forward to get on with things, and feeling the frustration (?) of friends who have asked me over the years, "Why do you have to stick to one thing; why can't you do "arty" and bread-and-butter?" Yeah, got it. Belatedly.

My next big decision is, considering my hideous track record with magazine subscriptions, whether to subscribe to Ornament; it's been the single most inspiring to magazine to me in the last few years, but I really don't want them to sit on my stash room floor and collect dust. Hummm...

And by the way, three-thousand cheers to whoever decided to paint the tree planters that exact red. The effect never ceases to amaze me. The surrounding orange-and-silver structures are the justifiably maligned student dormitories.