There are some days when the words and ideas come easy, and then there are days like today when I doubt I’ll ever have an idea again. I’m pretty sure I have the beginnings of a case of quilter’s block; I’m lost in the wash of uncertainty. Yeah, I know I just finished two books, but I just feel kinda emptied out, a shell.
I spent an hour this morning just trying to think, trying to latch on to the beginnings of an idea for a next quilt. Know what I came up with? Nothing. Coming up blank is a rare occurrence for me, so it is a bit unsettling, unnerving even. I’m sure I could come up with some patchwork to put together, but I’ve gone so far down this path of conceptualism that there’s no coming back. And right now all the ideas that I have just seem to small in the face of this horrible world.
Quilting for me is a way of screaming in the dark, fighting back against the existential dread that comes with being in this world right now. Maybe I’m asking too much of my quilting, trying to get it to say too much, making it into my sole therapist. But I don’t think I can help it; this is what I do.
So I guess I’m just going to have to get up early every morning and sit and think until the ideas come back. I just need to put in the hours and do the work. As J.M.W. Turner said, “I know of no genius but the genius of hard work.”
I’ve had a week off since the end of editing, so it’s time to get back to work. Idle hands are the devil’s playground, or something like that…