Inspiration
The Joy of Being Bad at New Things
Dear Ann,
As I keep telling you—sorry/not sorry—my long-anticipated trip with my sewing circle last month was a blast of the joy of being alive. These times of turmoil and change are exhausting for many of us, and can cause us to defer maintenance of the inner wellspring of wonder and curiosity, laughter and deep conversation, just when we need it most. My spring was replenished in June, and I feel grateful, and stronger, for it.
In our two weeks together in France, I dipped my increasingly-more-blue and scuffed-up hands into: the poems and scrap paper-collecting of Emily Dickinson, punch needle tufting, cyanotypes, and printmaking. All of this was under the kindly guidance of artists and artisans who were way too good for a beginner like me—or maybe that was the point? Maybe we all deserve to learn at the feet of the greats—what an idea!
One thing I kept stubbing my toe on was the discomfort of not being good at something. At one moment I was immobilized with indecision about where to lay a pair of scissors on a piece of fabric soaked in cyanotype chemistry; later I stood with those hands in my pockets as everyone else jumped into sketching with on plexiglass with oil-based ink and daubing it onto plants, then pressing prints onto handmade paper that felt too precious to touch, lest I smudge it or commit Bad Art. But I couldn’t hang back for long—my friends were having too much fun, and they were too kind about my tentative efforts. (I was pretty OK at punch needle, though! Give me anything involving yarn and I will give it a go.)
Mine: Emily Dickinson didn’t come through so well.
Gael’s. ‘Nuff Said.
Print workshop star.
When we got a chance to sit and stitch with Natalie Chanin (our circle’s ex-officio member and icon), I sighed with massive relief. No more new-kid feeling.
Ahh…thread!
It was so good to be doing something familiar, something my hands and brain know how to do.
With these memories so fresh, Dana Williams-Johnson’s post on knitting the same pattern multiple times really resonated with me; I have always loved to knit multiples. My brain on a familiar knitting or stitching project is in a soothed, centered, fully-engaged place.
But it’s exhilarating to try something new, even if a little push is required. It’s good for me, darn it.
I was already excited for Dana’s upcoming class, but now I’m extra excited because I think it will be a mind-expanding experience for people who never thought of transforming a yoke sweater for a person into a dog sweater.
From Jellybean’s expression you might think she made the sweaters.
Dana’s enthusiasm, know-how, and can-do attitude are infectious. Our brains will get a stimulating workout, and surely we all know a suitable recipient for a tiny colorwork yoke—the same method will yield a yoke sweater for a cat, dog, mini-human, or even American Girl Doll. Even with Olive no longer around, there are several yappy yapsters of my acquaintance who would rock a pint-sized Glass Ceiling—and there’s always my hope chest for a future tiny terrier, which seems inevitable.
The class is coming up on July 25. All the details are here. See you there!
How long do cyanotype chemicals stay in the cuticles? Asking for me.
Love,
Kay
Emily Dickinson – what a wonderful, inspiring idea! You can always go back and try again, right? Maybe a little shorter poem to cut down on the labor intensity? Or a haiku (not Emily’s but still stunning)? Now you’ve got me going. I still have the kit I bought from you guys, waiting for inspiration or to share it with a little girl I know.
My library recently offered a free(!) stone carving class. A real piece of limestone with a hammer and chisels! Crazy! Like in the movies! I have never done anything remotely like it. Am I going to be hired on as a stone carver( and yes, there is a shortage), definitely not but it was so fun to do something so different than my usual crafty pursuits.
Awesome! I wonder where I could take a crack at that?
The headline, “The joy of being bad at new things,” made me happy even before I read the post.
I agree Pennie, There is nothing quite like the feeling of being truly challenged to make a leap. Deliciously unsettling – once the fear of failure passes and the ego lets go. Brava Kay!
I’m in a monthly historical sewing group, and we all have different talents that are shared … and our ‘leader’ is a gifted seamstress/pattern drafter. We do something different each meet-up.
Such fun!
Wow, a monthly historical sewing group…that is the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard of! You are so lucky Gail!
I recently used some of my cyanotype squares with a group of 90 year olds in a retirement home. They were skeptical but the arthritic fingers went ahead and pinned the wilted leaves to the fabric. I did lots of running their designs outside to sun and back again.
To their delight they saw the magic shapes appear. They were thrilled to create something that was a bit mysterious but they did it!!
What a wonderful thing to do! So glad they enjoyed.
Learning new things is great for the brain. Being bad at them is hard for the heart. When I’m in those situations, I just keep telling myself to Trust. The. Process. Even making bad art is better than good day in the office! Coming from someone who has blue cuticles often, it takes time for the blue to fade. They kind of need to grow out. Enjoy them as a temporary souvenir of a great time!
Doing new things poorly but with gusto is my theme for 2025. It’s so good for us!
(my scorecard so far is mixed but I am having a blast and making some lovely messes).
I love this!
OMG I know that feeling! At first it’s utter frustration, but then, even if you’re bad at it, it’s gooood!!! That’s how I felt about learning how to spin. It was something I always wanted to do – it seemed so impossibly magical – and I finally learned! I’m still bad at it – enthusiastically, ecstatically bad! Pure Heaven:)!
I’m with you on this one. Spinning takes a lot of practice, but no matter how the yarn is turning out, I still find it amazing (and, as a perfectionist, being bad at something is incredibly uncomfortable).
I feel, share your pain. A long-time sporadic spinner, I recently achieved rather lovely kinda thick, kinda thin baby camel yarn not because I was skilled but because the prep was impossible! Not a bat, not carded or combed or anything I recognized, plus, nepps. For months I was frustrated with what I was spinning, then I knit some up and saw what it was, rather than what I wanted. Wonderment.
Hang in there, surprises are in store, I promise.
LOVE THIS!! New mantra…
Boy, did I need to read this! As a life-long musician and knitter, I just started a class on watercolor painting, something I’ve always wanted to do. Trying out gradients was fine, this is just what I do with yarn. Then sketching and adding color, I was that proverbial fish out of water. But I persevered, and while my finished work of art may have been lacking, I realized how engaged I had been, and how my brain was imagining new ideas that hadn’t been there before. So I will persevere, learn, and enjoy!
At the end of each day, I was so tired! It takes a lot of energy to concentrate so hard and deal with all the emotions, the fight against perfectionism, etc.
Last year’s MDK summer camp was a fun disaster for me. My basket holds an empty coffee tin. What??!! And the crocheted bucket hat a few years back? Frogged and made washcloths with the Creative Linen. But am I signed up for little fiddly things we’re going to attempt to make this year??? You bet. I think I might get a Girl Scout badge for Bravery. . .
Thanks for the reminder, Kay, that making is about letting go and just having fun.
We definitely need a patch for Tried Something New. I’m always preaching it and it was good for me to practice it!
In the weird synergy of the universe, I read a related conversation on Instagram yesterday — one person shared that they liked to use the word “exploring” when trying something new. Felt curious, didn’t require success. Someone else shared the goal of “take a class and be bad at it”. I thought these were great suggestions. And the title of this letter is just perfect.
I think the Emily Dickinson scarf (or whatever it is) is cool and mysterious.
FUN!! It is hard to be bad at new things. I get frustrated with myself making a mess of something. I remind newer knitters that adults have a hard time being beginners, but I forget to tell myself that. Your projects turned out pretty well. We have a cyanotype for beginners class at the Yarnery. Must remind myself to sign up for the next one!
All Hail Olive!!
I took 2 granny square classes & am making very wonky granny squares. As a knitting teacher once told me, now I need some mileage to get those stitches down. Was going to knit ponchos for my granddaughters (6, 6, and 8) but have decided to crochet them instead. Trying to figure out gauge in crochet….
You make me smile ☺️ especially on days when life isn’t always smile-worthy. I enjoy your posts!
I took 2 granny square classes & am making very wonky granny squares. As a knitting teacher once told me, now I need some mileage to get those stitches down. Was going to knit ponchos for my granddaughters (6, 6, and 8) but have decided to crochet them instead. Trying to figure out gauge in crochet….
Go for the new dog! No one can replace Olive, but a new furry companion will make its own space in your life. I went through every hoop a condo association can throw at you last summer to be able to bring Pepper, our new Bordoodle, home. And it was well worth all the effort. He rocks a red sweater and, unlike all my previous dogs, fits in a carrier under the seat in front of me. And he is a great distraction and comfort in the trying times
Kay, let us know how long cyanotype chemicals stay in the cuticles, when you know! Inquiring minds want to know.
I think they have to actually grow out; 2 weeks out and they are looking slightly less shredded!
Where should tiny terriers (and optimistic Saint Bernards) send their applications to adopt Kay?
My local rescue of choice is Waldo’s, they have a little lady right now who is giving me the puppy dog eyes. She looks almost too much like Olive. I have a type.