My mind is absolutely a seething hive of ideas and images and creativity. I just drove from Providence, Rhode Island to Asheville, NC in 2 days. I have music CDs and radio stations and I sing along, and listen to lyrics, and think about the quilts that I could make.
A lot of them are inspired by the lyrics, the turns of phrase, or a feeling.
Sometimes I’ll see a color combination on the roadside. Maybe I’ll watch tv in the hotel and something will spark an idea.
In two days, I wound up with 12 ideas. TWELVE.
Now, this may be the artistic equivalent of a first-world problem like deciding which cell phone cover to put on your new cool phone, but it actually messes up my brain.
When I get home, all I want to do is to run into the sewing room and start pulling fabrics of the shelf, cutting and sewing. Urgently. Desperately. Leaving all my luggage in the living room for people to trip over, or the cats to investigate.
If I lived alone, there’s a very good chance I would ditch all that crap, forget the laundry and swamping out the car, and I’d disappear for a week into color and texture and shape.
My compromise is to take everything I’ve jotted down in my notebook (yes, while driving) and put it into Word files, and use Paint to do quick sketches. The sketches are pretty bad, because I write with my left hand and use the mouse with my right hand, but it’s a long distance from a sketch to a quilt.
Almost as long as the drive from Mom to home. And every bit as worthwhile.