Sew, A Needle Pulling Dread

I am wallowing in a hell of my own devise: organizing the studio.

I’m pretty sure Dante missed a ring of hell – the one where artists have to account for everything in their possession, deciding whether it stays and gets filed appropriately or whether it gets the bum’s rush. This tragedy is made comic by the fact that most artists are pack-rats. Yes…somebody, somewhere, is most certainly laughing.

My weakness is fabric. Wool, cotton, velvet, fun fur, felt, corduroy. You name it, I’ve got it. I have way more fabric than any person – sane or otherwise – has any business having. Seriously. Not only could I make play clothes for the Von Trapp children, but I could manufacture work clothes and evening wear for them, too.

Today I was picking my way through a large, tangled bin of assorted fabric scraps, trim, and elastic. My plan is to separate it by type and colour, sorting it all into ZipLoc baggies so I never have to do it again. So far, thirty baggies litter the top of my studio tables. I have two more large, tangled bins to sort through.

I may very well go stark raving mad and be forced to make myself the most stylish straightjacket in history.

Hell, I could make one for every day of the week and pretend I’m Von Trapped in the Sound of Music.

[do, a deer, a female deer; re, a drop of golden sun; mi, a name I call myself; fa, a long, long way to run…]

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