Its hard to say goodbye (to unfinished projects)

Thoughts on cleaning out my studio

My cousin, Arielle, came over to help me clean out my studio. Which, if i'm honest, I am uncomfortable calling it a studio because Artists have studios and I struggle to see myself as an Artist. That said, I have a room filled with fabric and paper, my two favorite media, and every surface is covered with started sewing projects, scraps of paper with little epiphanies written down, and things I meant to read. In short, it is a studio. A very, very full studio.

A few weeks ago I helped Arielle clean out her studio, which I have no trouble calling a studio because she is a natural dyer and owns an online boutique. She moved recently and in her attempt to separate her work from her dining room and basement, a mess had formed. Funny how that happens.

She was overwhelmed by the space, and I was happy to help make order - it's not my mess, so I have no guilt about it and could walk in with my whole brain functioning and ready to make a plan. I was very well caffeinated, so I was even excited to tackle to problem.

However, when she arrived at my house the next week to make order of my mess, I was immediately paralyzed by the sheer amount of things I own. While I panicked in place, she took everything off the floor and moved it out of the room. Then she tasked me with going through a giant bin of scraps, which was the first task I could actually help with. The day moved on from there and by the end of the day there were 4 boxes to donate, a 75% reduction in my mending pile (because my kids had outgrown the clothes), and one bag of garbage. And a wide expanse of visible floor and desk space.

But by the end of the day I was feeling so sad, and I struggled to explain it to my husband. The success of the day was tangible, but something else occupied my mind.

In the process of sorting through the piles, I had uncovered many works in progress. I was happy to be reunited with some, and at least a dozen were within an hour of being finished.

Then there were the ones that I just wasn’t interested in anymore. I could identify those quickly - things that just look tedious instead of fun. At the end of the day i have four pajama pants that were all in stages of sewing - two needed a waistband and a hem! All in sizes that don’t fit my kids anymore. And seeing that stack, just kind of got me. I know I don’t want to sew pajamas for a 4-year old, I know that. But I was still a little sad to see all those possibilities being closed.

Consciously uncoupling myself from a project can be difficult - its easy to stop, but its very difficult to feel OK about not finishing. The guilt can be enough to stop me from starting another project - its proof that I am a flake and have commitment issues and probably won’t finish the next thing either.

But I know that these pajama pants are not anywhere near the top of my list of things I want to work on. And with time so limited, I know that finishing these pants means that I won’t be able to work on projects that are important to me. Like these jeans I was mending for my husband and seem like they are about 5 minutes away from being done. Four of those minutes will be needed for clearing my desk and setting up my sewing machine, and then 1 minute is all I’ll need to sew the pocket back on.

But too-small pants, or a vague idea for a quilt, or a dress that isn’t my style or size anymore… these are ready to be released. I am dissolving this contract with my idea and letting myself move on to other projects.

But those dreams were so shiny and Past-Raheli was so excited to start, and I hate to let down the Raheli of 3 years ago. I hate to give up the chance to be the version of myself who did finish that dress and looked awesome wearing it. Its only going to exist in the Alternative Universe version of myself, and it saddens me when I accept that.

And it's that limit - that acknowledgment of all the things I won’t be able to get to - that filled me with a gentle grief.

I won’t be able to follow through on all these ideas I have - all these things I want to make. I often feel lucky to have so many ideas and to feel inspired as often as I do. But even with a quarter of the ideas, I still won’t get to make all the things I want to. Because things take time, because I don’t have unlimited time, because sometimes time/energy/space/resources are extremely limited, because I am a human and this is the reality of a human life.

I’d say it's ok, but really I don’t feel like I need to judge it or allow it, I just needed to sit with this truth for a while.

And, it turned out that I only needed a day grieve. Then the next day I stepped into the studio to grab something, and I was thunderstruck by how spacious it was! Somehow, I had forgotten what all this meant for my space - how open it was. Delight washed over me and I couldn’t wait to play.