When the Kids Leave Home

Very early on in my weaving life, I wove, probably on a rigid heddle, a spacy, gappy "shawl" using multi-colored fancy yarns with super skinny bits and large colorful bubbles. The ideas was to position these bubbles in a grid, although I couldn't articulate it at the time, let alone have the skills to execute the plan. 
I meant it for one girlfriend, who is tall, for one thing, but is more innovative in how she dresses herself than I would ever be. The moment I gave it to her, she scrunched it up and wore it as a scarf. I was startled, but impressed she knew instinctively what to do. The width of the piece suited her longish neck, certainly far better than my normal flat scarves; it was warm because of all the air pockets; and it was far too short for her to wear as a shawl. (I lengthened all my wider pieces thereafter.)
What a valuable lesson for a new weaver: once you give it to someone, it's theirs, and the piece takes on a life of its own in their hands, whatever I visualized while I made it. I imagine it must be like having your kids leave home. Parents do the best to prepare them for life outside the home, but once they leave, whatever success they achieve, even in unexpected (to the parents) ways, it's on them.
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Every so often I like to watch the clip of Vincent being taken to Musée d'Orsay by Doctor Who and Amy. It doesn't hurt that Matt Smith is my favorite Doctor, or that Bill Nighy is one of my favorite actors. It is a well-choreographed tearjerker, made complete by Tony Curran's astonishing transformation into Vincent; I can't help feeling moved every tine.
But the episode doesn't end there. Vincent is dropped off at "Arles", (they combined Arles and Ouvers as one place,) and the Doctor and Amy rush back to the museum to see if Vincent lived longer and produced more paintings. Amy is disappointed he still died after "Wheatfield with Crows", (still disputed if this was the last canvas he painted,though.)
I see this as a nice bookend to maker's making. We can project anything we like to artwork or artist, even cook up an elaborate scheme like time travel, to try to convince an artist something they may not know, but we "know" though passage of time, but the artist remain true to themselves and will make/do what they see as best. I can't explain it better, except it's not just about tangible objects but writing/poetry/music/performance also. Something made takes a life of its own, independent of the maker.
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Of the five blue/yellow/gray tea towels I gave to friends, four are being used for different purposes; I was sent beautiful pics of two. The fifth, I bet, is super busy drying dishes and wooden spoons every day.

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