There is nothing new. But if it’s not a “unique contribution to the field” then you better just give up now (thank you academia). Most of the time, I live in this awkward space between the impulse to create and the assured knowledge (thank you internet) that someone out there is already doing it better.
Mending seems too small. It feels like a necessity, not a creation. This week, I mended. I patched holes and reattached buttons. I reinforced a seam and made an embroidered design. I’ve made bigger things, but they don’t keep your pants up.
Like most everyone I know, I feel intimidated by the all stars. You know the ones – who live on multiple continents, start their own companies, can actually give solid advice on the best cheese in Paris or the best roast guinea pig in Argentina. Functional sewing doesn’t compete and that’s okay. Small does not mean insignificant.
Sewing reminds me of my capacity. My ability to repair, to alter or to repurpose. It is a meditative practice that keeps my hands busy and my mind focused. It can breathe new life into a garment, decorate a wall, or provide the resting place for a best friend’s rings on her wedding day.
And it’s reassuring to know your ass isn’t hanging out in public.