Time

Time.
What is time?
I haven't got time to tell you.

This poem was written by Gaetano LaRoche back when he was still called Norman. He wrote it when we were students at Cooper Union. We laughed about it then but I have been quoting it ever since.

I have been feeling the pressure of time in the past several days. The metaphor of knit stitch as a marker of time may be overused at this point but I have been sorely aware of this relationship each day this past week. I have felt the frustration of being unable to knit any faster no matter how I try. At moments, I feel like I am barreling towards the deadline of January 5th on the verge of being out of control. The results may not be pretty if anything goes even slightly wrong.

Today, I was even more than frustrated when an idea I spent hours and hours on failed miserably. Precious time! Was it wasted? I didn't want to think so. The mistake forced me to change direction slightly and revealed a way that this piece might actually be ok, if different, from how it was shaping up only yesterday. So that was good, right?

Here is a small piece I finished (ah, sweet sounds!). Porcelain and wool, approx. 10' x 12"