More of the same, please

Repetition, mastery and how many days can I continue to do the same thing?

Some weeks it feels like I did nothing at all. When I sit here at the end of the week and consider what to write about I generally only think about what new things I’m working on. Experiments, play, and making things I’ve never made before.

The truth of living this life is that most of my work is making the same pieces over and over again. It’s not glamorous. I feel as though it’s boring to keep talking about it. I made ten big baskets this week. Between that, a holiday week, and caring for a baby that’s about all I did.

Nothing sexy, nothing new. Just making the things that are the bread and butter of my business. I think one of the crimes of social media is that we see creators pumping out new work constantly. In all likelihood that’s probably not what's happening behind the scenes. I would guess that at least half the weeks of any given year I’m not making new stuff or trying new things but plugging away on the same thing I’ve been making for nearly six years now.

I have been thinking about making baskets, how long I’ve been doing it, and just how many I have made in those years. What it takes to go deep and make them day in and day out. The process is muscle memory now, so I find my mind meandering often. I tend to think about the next steps I will take and my mind reaches out five steps ahead of where I actually am in the process. I have to bring my brain back to meet the present moment. I have to remind myself that all of them are made one stitch at a time. 

I carefully watch each stitch going in the right place. Learning the speed at which my machine is most efficient took years. Can’t go too fast or the thread breaks, too slow and it takes too long. Keep those headphones on or you might lose your hearing. The zig and the zag of the needle. Every five minutes I have to change out the bobbin. I used to find the switching of the bobbin a major interruption in my flow. Now, it’s how I count time. 

The feeling of the rope on my fingers, micro adjustments here and there. A tenth of a millimeter adjustment in either direction to keep the stitches in the right place. Holding the basket at just the right angle to keep the rope stacking on top of itself in an orderly fashion. Left right left right left right. The needle moves so quickly I can’t see it. I know exactly where the rope must align under the foot to keep my stitches straight. A million things to think of at the same time, but it works best if you think of nothing at all. Left right left right left right. That’s the only way. 

Clear my mind and go. The goal is no misplaced stitches, no broken threads. Click click click to change the bobbin. Pop out the holder, drop the empty one on the table, snip the thread, pop it back into the holder. The satisfying click when it snaps into place. Slide the empty on the bobbin winder, thread through the hole, hold it just right. Left right left right left right left right left right left right. Snip the thread on the bobbin, make a full circle. Trim the threads on the basket and then back to the rhythm. Left right left right left right. It’s a song to me now.

I like change and challenges and trying new things. There is something especially magical about sitting down to do something I feel skilled at doing. I thought I wanted to stop selling the baskets, but my relationship to creating them is changing. It’s a new challenge now, how to keep going when you are a little bored. How to keep improving when it seems you’ve acquired all the skills necessary. What a gift to be able to reach for mastery. Learning to love it again after a couple years of not loving it so much. Focusing on the actual practice of making instead of obsessing over the business of it. A devotion to the thing I know how to do best in this moment.

If you want to see more random experiments and playful creative work, consider upgrading to paid! If you want to support my basket making they are available at weareclosedonmondays.com.