One time only

 So much of the art I make has been about endurance and legacy, usefulness and cleanability.  I've carved wood so the words don't wear away, I've varnished indoor pieces with outdoor polyurethane so they can be washed often, I've considered the quotes that are worthy of sticking around.

And then... I had this idea to make a summer blouse out of an old pillowcase.  When I say old I mean antique... someone embroidered on this dainty thing.  And when I bought it at the Citywide Garage sale in Austin last summer it smelled like LOTS of bleach.

I spent several hours making this blouse.  I first realized my hips are actually wider in reality than they are in my mind, so I had to cut triangles out of that cool green fabric and add it to the sides to make the hip area bigger.  Then, I had to figure out how I wanted to actually keep it on my body.  After a little scrounging around in the fabric drawers I found a couple of antique tea napkins. They worked GREAT!  I added a couple of snaps to the top so I could get it on and off and it worked!

But, it turned out that this design was not to be one to endure.  I put it on as we walked out to party number one of the day.  I felt so free and so soft, like someone ought to pick me up and plop me in a field of flowers.  I wore it to party number two, as well... and that's where I scratched a hole right through the center of the fabric.  All I was doing was scratching a mosquito bite and there it went, into the very empty category of art that doesn't last long.

I would have thought that watching several of hours of work disappear without something lasting to show for it would have bothered me more than it did.  Instead, I scratched that hole and then just kept right on conversing.  Okay.  It bothered me SOME.  The photo of me in the blouse was taken after the hole and I clearly don't look like I just won a new car.

But, there is a gift in every, "Oh, damn it!"  In this case, the gift is that my art for the rest of the week was more open and risky than it has ever been. 

The blouse now hangs on a pretty hanger on the back of my closet door where I hung my next day's clothes before work during this last school year.  Since I don't work in the summer, the blouse will be my daily reminder to just jump in and try things out without fear of failure.  It will give me wings to make things just because they are pretty and not because somehow they need to be useful.