Sewing & Design

Posts about sewing and design.

And Here We Go Again

Tchad

So the Summer is almost officially over and I am back at the Workroom trying to make things happen.
I sat down last night and very loosely cobbled together a set of numbers that need to happen between now and the end of the Spring classes 2012.  It is A LOT, especially for what I do here. So I need to get on the ball and not just wait for my MacArthur genius grant to come through.

There won’t be any clothing made this year – at least not until the late Spring – I am thoroughly burnt out on making clothing for the time being and the idea of making a dress sends me into paroxysms of anxiety.  I am thinking of coming up with more designs and extending/developing the way they would be produced, but that is IT.

Instead I am going to try to develop the classes and other facets of the business.  This is going to include some instructional video work,  some language instruction, and more than a little high-end agricultural development in both Wisconsin and Indiana.
Today I have two girls coming up to work for a bit and then it is on to getting the Workroom up and running.  With Greg’s estate, the extended Summer vacation, and my general malaise since March… Well, the place could use some tending-to.

But I feel more put together than I have for a very long time.  It is funny how that works.

 

 

So Far So Good.

Tchad

Today has been pretty good so far.

Yesterday, as part of my purge of the workroom I sold my Singer 31-15 Industrial sewing machine.

It made me sad, but it went to a good purpose:

Matt and his boyfriend James picking the machine up from the workroom.  They were super excited about it.  Mat had been texting and emailing all morning so that he could be the one to get it for James.  We spent some time talking about what they do and the machine.  In all, I think that the history of the piece will carry on.  It will certainly get more use than it was getting up at the workroom.  You can read more about what James does here:

JamesSommerfeldt.com

That is James on the left and Matt on the right.

The history of that machine, just in case it gets sold and someone looks up the serial number:

I bought the machine from a guy named Petar on the near West side of Chicago. Here is the text of the history he knew of it:

We acquired the machine when my mom bought a cleaners located at 3521 W. Fullerton Ave.  We moved to the space in 1966.  Before that someone else owned the cleaners throughout the 50s and early 60s.  Around 1970 we were forced to move because we lost our lease and the building was sold, so we moved next door to 3523 W. Fullerton Ave. where the machine stayed until 1979 when we sold the business.  Fortunately, my mom took the machine with her to our home in Park Ridge, Illinois and had an alteration business going in the neighborhood – we lived at 1029 S. Prospect – we had a completely finished garage – it was a story and a half and the first floor was carpeted – the previous owners had 8 kids so they had made the garage into a family room.  So the machine was there until 1992.  After my moms death in 1988 and my father moving to Italy and getting remarried, we sold the house and I took the machine to my apartment at 8654 West Summerdale Ave Apt3s.  It was there until 2000, when I bought a town home in Round lake Illinois and moved it along with the rest of my things there.  I was there until the fall of 2003, I sold my town home and moved back to the city, however I was renting a room from a women and didn’t have room for most of my stuff, so I put it into storage with Midway Moving and Storage – they have a warehouse around Pulaski and Lake Streets.  It was there until November 2006 when I purchased my current place and put it into the storage room.  The machine has essentially been unused since 1988 when my mom passed away, however I really tried to take care of it.  That is about all the history i know.  it has been moved around a bit – would be interesting to find out what it was doing pre-1950s; I guess that will remain a mystery.

The serial number is: G521375

It is a Singer 31-15

I am especially happy that yet another creative gay guy owns it.  Keep it in the family, so to speak.

And that is it.  The things we surround ourselves with have these rich histories.  Sometimes they are mundane and work-a-day like this and sometimes they are more exciting.  The point is that we are connected to each other by more than just our humanity.  We are connected through our tools and artifacts.  They are tangible things that tie us together as human beings.

Lesson: You Can’t Please Everyone and You Can’t Make Everything OK

Tchad

One of the biggest problems and biggest fall-outs from all of this has been my professional life.

My personal life?  All I have is totally internal, so there isn’t much of an external one to notice change.

But my professional life tends to be my connection to others.  I may not have friends like most people, but I have roomfuls of people who chit-chat, make nice, and then I teach them a stitch or make them a dress. And there is the rub.  Making the dresses.

See, the entire Spring session was a disaster.  It began when I was at my worst.  I tried to soldier through it.  I really did. But I wasn’t at my best.  Luckily my third or fourth best is better than most people’s first best so it seemed ok. OK as far as the classes went. It seemed.

But how many times can you catch yourself screwing up and making terrible mistakes – or in a classroom setting not catching others and stopping their mistakes before they happened.

See, I have always said that my students and clients deserve my best or something close to it.  That hasn’t happened for months and now I have everyone pissed.  Well, not everyone.  The students are pretty good about it.  But the clients aren’t.

Oh, sure, make the dresses, teach the classes, whatever… how hard could it be?  What is your problem? But when you are your own worst critic (it isn’t really that much of a cliché… some people aren’t) it is overwhelming.  You make ridiculous mistakes and then spend hours crying about them.  In a corner. You lose time, you lose money, you lose the little spark of inspiration that makes it all worthwhile.  I thought I understood depression before, but until I caught myself NOT going to Greg’s 23rd floor apartment because there were no locks on the windows and what if… well, you know you have a real problem.

Wellbutrin seems to be helping, but I won’t know until nearer the end of the Summer.  Right now I am trying to stay out of harm’s way.  It is a real pain – in every sense of that word. It feels like someone punched you in the stomach the night before while you were blackout drunk – you have the pain and the cramping but can’t explain it.
I had experienced a broken heart before – once – in my early 20s and it wasn’t fun.  But this.  THIS was something else.  Something profound and life-altering.  It is one of the worst things so far and I am someone who has plenty of battle scars. YOU can’t see them, but they are there.

Have been telling myself for years that if it came down to it I would go back to the country raise tomatoes and ride horses.  That may just happen.

But the title!  What the hell does all of this have to do with the title?

Ah, glad you asked.  I have been sick to my stomach for months with three projects that just aren’t going to happen.  I don’t want anyone’s money and have offered refunds because that’s what I do, but so many folks are pissed and I just can’t do it.  I hate to disappoint them.  I hate it that I can barely pick up anything creative or build something without it turning into some nightmare-fueled sob-fest.

So you can’t please everyone.  You can try to explain, you can try to deal with it, you can try to keep things to yourself and let people in on an as-needed basis, but it is still going to smack you in the face and you have to decide.  You have to decide if screwing up that dress and sending yourself into some dark hole  for a dress just so someone won’t be upset with you.

ramblerambleramble…  You can’t please everyone.  It is good to try.  But at the end of the day, you can try to make it as right as you can and then you have to accept that not everyone is going to be ok with it.  You can hope they see what you are trying to do, you can try to explain, but in a professional setting it isn’t really appropriate to say something like: “Well, I have been crying for six hours and that is why there are water-spots on your taffeta.  Sorry ’bout that.”  People think you are a drag (and you are).

One thing the past three weeks have taught me, though:  I will never go three weeks without checking my email again, that’s for. damn. sure.
So, you know, at least there’s that to gain from a horrible month.  Gotta hold onto something…