elenahpowell

Never too much string.

In Edinburgh College of Art on February 2, 2013 at 12:00 am

I ran out of string yesterday, even more annoyingly the college shop ran out of string, so no more string knitting until Monday at the earliest. I went to go buy sticky back plastic today to make my badges a bit more substantial, and they’d run out of that too…I have no luck at the moment. I did get some (ha!) wool though… It’s big enough to lose my needles in.

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I’ll almost definitely make a scarf, but might look up doing something else even if I don’t understand knitting patterns…(although I did teach myself to cast off the other day, which was an achievement) That’d probably need actual fabric dye though, seeing as I’ve been using watered down acrylic and it does dry quite stiff. On the plus side my washing line/thread dying device is looking nice at the moment. I started sewing the dyed square-ish things together, having covered embroidery thread in splotches of all six colours (categories, remember?). It’s going to be 8 squares by 13, 8 squares is just under the width of my desk, so it might actually be rug sized and useable. I was standing on the squares I’ve done and it felt quite nice, in a tickly kind of way. I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do with it, but I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing anyway (even worse because I’m supposed to know what I’m doing…). I’ll get to the pictures.

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It’s inevitably gone a bit squint already. I’m hoping it’ll look better when it’s all done (the only way of describing how all the different colours look together is ‘tasty’), but I’m happier having got a bit more of a thing, instead of a load of white squares. In shoe terms, it’s about two and half size eight boots wide (yes, I have ridiculous sized feet, but I’m practically a giant in Scotland).

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I’ve got things with memories to send, but I have no idea if that’s a bit too creepy or not, they’d be sent to people that have no connection to the memories or phenomena. I’ve got links that’ll be sent with them – links to videos, sounds or images that are the actual phenomena or just part of related memories. I kind of need new data to make new things from, but…I don’t know what sort of data. And I’d have to colour code it all again, and it’d make my beautiful (ehm…) rug redundant. I don’t know… I need to do something, but I can’t do anything because I’m in the middle of doing things and can’t think anymore. When in doubt…Martin Creed comes to the rescue with his awkward-but-just-right words.

“I do it because I want to make something. I think that’s a desire, you know, or a need. I think that I recognise that I want to make something, and so I try to make something. But then you get to thinking about it and that’s where the problems start because you can’t help thinking about it, wondering whether it’s good or bad.”

“… wanting to communicate and wanting to say hello.”

I know what I want to do, but I can’t quite…get it to happen how I want, or even know how most of the time. I want to do something genuinely nice, to make something better. The visual, or…experiential maybe?, equivalent of a really nice cup of tea when it’s really cold outside, someone making a cake for you, a good hug. It’s turned out to be so bright and colourful and so cheerful looking. If it can make someone smile – even in an ‘oh dear, this is a bit weird’ sort of way – I think I’ll be happy. It’s just doing that that’s hard! Which I wasn’t really expecting, it shouldn’t be so hard to do something nice…

This week has been pretty damn phenomenal in actually doing things – Scotsman steps on Monday, venturing to the pub on Wednesday and seeing Django Unchained tonight (I wasn’t expecting it to be so funny – although possibly only so funny due to awkward laughter). I might just implode from all the excitement… Still need to go to the thing that opened today at the Fruitmarket, it looked pretty. At least it’s on for ages. I think I’m now going to be forever known as mother dearest, which is infinitely better than slimy snail. I still deny ever being called that.

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