I’m in a rut.
In my job I feel useless and cumbersome which makes me unhappy which in turn makes me feel like a tool and an ungrateful wretch because it’s actually a great job. I’ve probably sat in there hanging on for grim death for way longer than any other employee previously. Some young thing should have had the opportunity to get their start in there a long time ago.
My confidence is at an all-time low which makes looking for something else torture. I’ve never in my life gotten a job I’ve applied for. I just kinda ‘fall into’ stuff historically. There’s a feeling in the air that I must go but that no-one else will hire me. I’ve always feared this to be true.
This all spills over into my studio as well. My ego can’t take completing any work just in case it turns out to be shite. I know the advice that I would give to others – that you have to risk making shite to make anything good and who would know if this next work is shite ’cause you just kick the shites under the rug in the privacy of your own studio space, learn from your mistakes and move on to the next one, which -odds are- will be a winner.
So that’s what’s up with the knitting. Weaving glorified string around two sticks in a fashion that belongs to the ages is a guaranteed winner. Who doesn’t love a sock? A scarf? Something made just for them, invested with time and care? What’s more there are patterns to follow – records that are proof of prior successes. These objects are guaranteed to be worth my time and crows-feet…
There is a strange substitution too – What are knitted stitches if not just physical pixels? The equivalence of the frames of film or video or one of a thousand girls dressed up as a violin in a Busby Berkley sequence. I worry over each tiny part in turn to make an object that is (without a doubt) the sum of it’s parts. If you freeze any frame of a Hitchcock film it is composed as if for a photograph.
I hope I never use any filler. But right now I’m too scared to find out.