There is a better way to do this thing I'm doing, but I'm going to go ahead and do it this other way anyway. This sounds crazy and yet with almost every design I undertake, I find myself thinking this kind of thought. It's different from second-guessing or some sort of crisis of confidence, but rather my brain telling me that there is another way of doing the thing I'm doing that would be even better. I will ignore this intelligence and continue on, very often wasting some of my own precious time as well as yarn which I would argue is also precious.
Case in point, my current project is a baby blanket for my nephew's first. My idea is to take a classic doily pattern and make it up in a soft, baby yarn, modifying it just a little to take out some of the larger spacing in the design so that it would serve well as a blanket. The idea is sound, even kind of fun and appropriate for my vintage loving nephew and his wife, but as I work up the blanket, I know it would represent better in a solid yarn and better still in one with a less fluffy texture. Yet here I am, ignoring my own reasoning and working through with my initial yarn purchase. The best thing you can say about this variegated, furry yarn is that the colors will be appealing to the indented recipients and it has an impressionist air which will probably even present the suggestion of lace when complete. Even so, I know deep down that I will end up crocheting the whole piece over again and this will become something taking up space in my studio or at best, donated to a charity which will have no idea what it is supposed to be.
Why do I do this?
Do I want to prove myself wrong?
Is it because I can't abandon a project once I've begun?
Will writing this phenomena down create personal change?
Honestly, I think this is just a shout into the void, an existential "why?" and one of many I have about myself and my creative brain. Perhaps I'm just wondering if anyone can relate.
I'll come back and share my finished baby blanket, both of them.
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