What we do

A funny thing has happened in the past year.

I began recording and posting the things I make as a way to counter my general feeling of, for lack of a better word (though I am certain there is one, it is just not coming to me), "uselessness" faced with being a first-time stay-at-home parent. Let me explain. I feel it is a rare privilege to be able to spend your child's first months, or years, by his/her side. It is difficult for me to imagine what it would have been like to return to work when L was a couple of months old and miss out on the changes each day brings. That said, my "troubles" started when showering and getting dressed were no longer major achievements. There began the limbo in between active and "useless" - thus was born the need to "do something". I felt the days and the weeks rush by, and became anxious and irritable. Professional and scholarly projects were on hold, waiting for better - or at least more predictable, organisable - days. Knitting, sewing and just "making stuff" has occupied my spare time for years (usually to the sound of some French political or cultural talk show that I might have argued back at - or to Ugly Betty when morale was low). The beauty of this stuff-making was that not only did it provide me with a creative outlet, but most often the "stuff" was for the loveliest people around me (and their lovely little ones): Christmas and birthday gifts (often belated) were born in my spare time, and the pleasure associated with working on them never lessened. A year ago it seemed perfectly logical that I might again begin making stuff in an effort to fight back at the fleeting months and prove to myself that I had in fact done something: each photographed and posted project brought a little beam of pride that boosted morale, as did the moment each little package was posted off. Nonetheless, I considered this all a spare time "bubble" - one that would undoubtedly eternally remain separate from the real world and my real life as a designer/PhD student. Until recently.

After a number of frustrating jobs in graphic design, I was seriously considering abandoning its practice to focus solely on its theory. A few months ago a very close friend asked me for a favor: could I submit some design ideas for his wedding invite. Having previously designed two (including my own), one of which resulted in a small fiasco/misunderstanding - now referred to as the "unfortunate hand painted vine leaves" incident - my enthusiasm was low. One lazy, procrastination-filled afternoon, sometime near tax season, I began doodling up ideas, then a burst of energy (or more procrastination) led me to try one out on my computer. And that is how the IRS is a tiny bit responsible for the faire part* pictured above. Which might also make them a tiny bit responsible for the unexpected insight this"small" project brought me. For the past 6 years my approach to graphic design was flawed: I expected satisfaction to come from big famous clients and from peer recognition (thanks to aforementioned big famous projects). No longer. I have learned that I enjoy the process of creating something only as much as I enjoy knowing how much the person it was destined for appreciates it. I thought design bliss was being the author of a national theater poster lauded in one of the prominent publications, instead I know now that I got closer to it designing a lovely couple's wedding invite. Less it is, then.

*Yet again, in my opinion, the french expression which literally means "make part" is superior to its English counterpart.