Sometimes You Just Have to Call It

A wise artist knows her tools.

The nature of my work, and my nature in general, means that I usually have everything planned out before I begin. The conceptual phase is a huge part of my process, usually starting with a "What if?" and figuring it out from there. Once I know exactly how to proceed, I start working with the materials, and usually, there are no surprises.

But every once in a while, it all blows up in my face. When a piece doesn't work, it REALLY doesn't work. As discouraging as that is while it is happening, it can also lead to new directions and insight.

While working on my previous felt inlay pieces, I had the idea of inlaying the felt into a different material - perhaps wood? I had used doorskin, a thin plywood with a layer of veneer in the past and thought it could be exciting to combine the malleable wool felt with the more rigid wood - and they were the exact same thickness! 

I ran to the hardware store and bought a Dremel tool, which my initial research showed could work to cut intricate shapes out of the plywood. My neighbour, who was a Dremel expert came over and had a look, and said nope, what you probably want is a jigsaw with a very fine blade. So I returned the Dremel, got a variable speed jigsaw, bought the doorskin, and proceeded to make practise cuts, and it all seemed to work just fine.

The thing was, I used the smaller offcuts to practise on. When I went to actually cut this intricate shape out of a 32" x 80" piece of rigid wood, I had to r-e-a-c-h, which meant I didn't have as much control as I needed. And the large piece of plywood couldn't be moved around to accommodate the variable contours of my design. 

Without total control, and having to hold the saw in an awkward position, inevitably the power tool cut where it wasn't supposed to. And in spite of having a very fine toothed saw blade, the paper thin veneer splintered. I came back the next day and tried again. It was even worse.

So I asked myself the obvious question: "Why was I trying to make this rigid material do something that would be difficult even for very skilled woodworkers to achieve?" Even if I somehow managed to get a handle on the process, I would not be having any pleasure in the making. And that pleasure of making, of handling materials that reward touch, is one of the primary reasons I work with textiles.

So I called it. I may return to it in the future, if I figure out a better way to deal with the technical issues, but in the meantime I have a show coming up in a month and I had best spend my time doing something I know I can do effectively. So it's back to needle and thread, and generous, responsive, flexible wool.