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Day #3 of a sequence in intense creativity has dawned on me. Cappuccino, sketch books, swatches, fabric, muslin, magazines, movies, books, images and PURE frustration are a few elements of the design process. I sat in a coffee shop today with laptop in hand, my enormous sketchbook, croissant and loud people speaking in the shop. I work best when I’m not working. While riding the train I thought of the muslins I had draped in the past few days, none of which satisfy the perfectionist designer I have become.
I hate being this way.I hate it but I love it all at once. I love hating it.
I actually hate the design process most of the time. When do I love it? When I complete a look that makes me smile and jump for joy. When does that happen? Rarely but often enough to satisfy me.
It’s that search that I’m on, to look for beauty. It is everywhere and can be made but the natural beauty that surrounds us in our world seems so effortless, unthought and instinctual.
My design is a combination of the subconscious fighting the conscious. Sometimes I wish I were just purely an artist. I am not, however, I am analytical, sensible and a hard-core business woman. I think as hard as I feel.
It’s coming up with that final look that hits a chord inside of me and nourishes the psychological and physical aesthetic. The many critics of my mind come out to judge the clothing with scissors in hand and abusive words to shoot down my work I have slaved over. They are always right.
Last monday, I worked all day only to be unimpressed by the part-dress I had designed, draped and made. I tried it on, forwards, backwards, on two different dress forms, walked away and came back to it all to conclude that I could not save the boring, unsatisfied piece of crap I had worked on ALL FREAKING DAY!!!!
What was wrong with it? Nothing- just that I couldn’t convince myself that it was good enough. It didn’t pass the panel of raised eyebrow Christine’s.
I had other plans for the day. I thought by end of day I would have made something I could smile at. I frowned and took the dress off and threw it in the corner of the room.
It still resides there to remind me that I’m only human. I am allowed to experiment, make mistakes and make ugly clothing.
It’s part of the process. The process that never is fast enough for me. I’m interested in the final product. I have to re-train myself to understand that it is not always the end product that is most important but also the steps that get me there.
My final thought last night before I went to bed was that I am torturing myself. I should be happy with all I have and accomplished. Maybe, just maybe, I was not made to be a designer. It was enough to make me cry but instead I went to sleep.
I woke up this morning and squashed that ridiculous voice that spoke to me last night in my delirious fatigue.
This is part of the process and only makes the final product even more rewarding.
I hope.
There is nothing else I want to do in my life than design clothing and dress women.
You’d think that would be simple and easy.
I squash that voice of defeat inside of me every day.
