Where does inspiration come from?
I’m sure it’s different for everyone, but for me its everywhere or I should say anywhere. My magnolia in the springtime, the shadows on the bottom of the pool, the beautiful old woman in the coffee shop, birds. Patterns, colors, shapes, textures… Before I knit, I had no way to express my inspiration. I wonder, who to thank.
My mother retired from a job in retail when she was in her sixties. Her first career, before us, was as a milner in NYC. I inherited her wooden head, a prized possession of mine. She worked at a yarn store for a bit before moving into a 55+ community where she spent the rest of her days dancing, playing tennis and mahjong, and generally enjoying her friends and family. I wonder if her life without us to worry about would have led her down a different path.
My mom was creative where she could be. She was a great cook and baker. She sewed and knit all the time, but mostly to clothe us or repair our favorite things. And I wonder, if we had showed interest, if she would have had the time to teach us her crafts. I wonder if her creations before us were inspired. If she missed her calling. I know to me she would have said she wouldn’t have done it any other way.
But I will always wonder where this comes from. This passion in me that arrived right after she left. Before I could show her.
When I design my head hurts. It begins like a puzzle. I turn the pieces over and over, each a question. I don’t always begin with a border, sometimes I start from the center and work my way out. One question leads to another, an answer leads to another question and another, and my brain just plain overheats. And so I nap. And when I fall asleep with a question looming, she answers it.