My latest knitting project, which I just finished last night, is the devil hat from the Stich-n-Bitch book. It’s a prototype for one I am going to make for my friend Jacintha, and I was pretty excited about it. Origially when I saw the pattern I thought about making one for another friend of mine, whom I thought it would be perfect for, ’cause it’s cute and sassy and seemed like the sort of thing she’d like.
So I took the hat to a big lunch today, mostly so Jacintha could try it on (which would allow me to adjust the patten for her). As I was talking about it, I discovered that the other friend (for whom I’d orginally thought of making one) doesn’t like it. (She didn’t say anything mean or anything, she just didn’t want one.) I was far more disappointed by this than I “should” have been.
I think it touched on one of my bigger hang-ups of late: the intersection between “craft” (I’m not even confident enough to call it “art”; somehow “craft” seems less presupposing) and identity. You see, I’m at the point where I sort of want to start selling some of the things I’m making (how do you like that hedge “sort of want” — ha!), and though I know (intellectually) I just need to “put it out there,” I’m terrified to do so. What if people don’t like it? What if no one wants to buy it?
Intellectually, of couse, I know that’s no reflection on me (or how well anyone likes me), but from a purely “gut” standpoint, it feels like it is. And heavens only knows, I don’t handle rejection particularly well.
So I hem and haw and put things on my craft page (but with no prices on them, and very little mention of the fact that I’d be interested in making more of them and getting paid for it) and make the occaisional “accidental” sale (someone sees something ans says “Ooh, I’d like to buy that, would you sell it?”), but never quite get around to doing what I need to do, which is to march into my favorite local boutique-y stores, samples and price list in hand and say “Hi, you should sell my most fabulous stuff.”
I’ve made (TINY) strides: getting things up on the site at all was a big deal, and I’ve finally gotten a rubber stamp with my logo and contact details so that I can make cute, hand-crafted hang-tags…I’ve even made some cute handcrafted hang tags. Which I’ve hung on the things I’ve made. Which are just waiting to be marched into a store…
sigh.
I need injectable confidence.
Realm of the Lint Queen 
My advice is: 1. remember that if people don’t appreciate your work, then they are clearly morons. No need to tell them so; their moron-ness is punishment enough :)
2. Line up enough friends whose opinions you respect to keep reminding you how great your work is. That way remembering 1. won’t be difficult.
LikeLike
thanks, Sarah
Thank you… I do need to remember this (and indeed this reminds me of what I often tell the hurting “dumpees” in my life: “oh come on, he must be an enormous loser to not want to be with you!”
In other news, I’d love to pick your brain WRT sewing.. the pattern for the apron just about broke my brain, and I think there are some things in patterns that I just need to read with someone who knows WTH they’re doing. Ever since my Granny, who taught me how to sew, departed from this world, I’ve been lacking in expert pattern-interpretation guidance. Perhaps coffee and pattern reading some weekend morning?
LikeLike
Re: thanks, Sarah
I would love to do that! I have your phone number on my desk and have been thinking about calling you :) What’s your schedule looking like?
LikeLike
confidence
I met this fabulous woman today…smart, pretty, wearing a GREAT hat that she knit herself. In fact, when we walked in the place a man came up and said, hey are you TWO Knitters?…got all excited and called his wife over…remember????
Let me know when you want to go to the boutique. I’ll come and stand beside you PROUDLY and say GO, GINA, GO! I’ll even wear my CAPE if you want….
What we *know* intellectually and what we actually choose to act upon (and how we do that) are two entirely different realms, n’est pas?
LikeLike