Is it just me? I’ve always got a bunch of ideas flitting around inside my head, a bit like irritating insects, constantly buzzing to remind me that they haven’t gone anywhere. It might be a bag, it might be a pattern or an idea for 3D printing. The most dominant of these ‘insects’ will inevitably come to the forefront of my mind, making much louder sounds than the others. It won’t stop. Not until I listen to it.
And so the process begins. I begin to think about this germ of an idea, and it starts to take shape. I think about the materials I would use, the colours, the fabrics, the hardware. I make sketches in my head, and when they begin to get out of control, I reach for my sketchbook and transfer my thoughts onto paper.
I didn’t always work in this way. I would always start with the sketchbook, drawing what I thought I wanted to make. Sometimes I would create a design which I actually developed into a finished item. But often the designs remained sketches on a page. I have found that leaving the ideas to develop in my head before committing them to paper gives me far stronger designs and better results. I am able to see the idea more clearly and construct the item in my head, almost like a dry run.
Of course, there is one small problem with this.
Without exception, every serious design in my head looks amazing. It has an impeccable finish and is constructed with such ease; I never ever encounter problems. Everything fits together beautifully. Nothing needs adjusting. It is, quite frankly, a masterpiece.
And then I have to make it.
In reality, a beautiful product will almost inevitably be the result of trial and error, of adjustments here and there and a fair amount of figuring things out along the way to make it ‘just right’. I have learned over time to always make a calico prototype. I have had to really force myself to do this because the excitement of cutting into beautiful fabric always got the better of me, and, more often than I care to admit, the result fell short. I would be disappointed in myself on so many levels: the wasted fabric, the wasted time, and the inevitable little dip in my confidence that comes when something that looked so good in your head doesn’t quite work in reality. Then, with a lacklustre result, I would be faced with the decision of whether to abandon the project (generally my choice), or to keep going and make it work.
Now, with the luxury of experience, my making process has shifted. Allowing the buzzing of ideas in my head before committing to a design on paper gives me more time to really consider it. Making a fabric prototype means that I can get a feel for the issues which are likely to present themselves on something which can be discarded, rather than risking the fabric I actually want to use. I can see my sketch come to life without the pressure of potentially ruining beautiful fabric simply because I am underprepared. It has taken me a long time to get here, but I am so glad I have.
Because the funny thing is, making a prototype hasn’t taken away the excitement of finally cutting into my fabric. If anything, it has intensified it. Now, when I finally reach for that beautiful piece of fabric, I know that I have already ironed out the issues that cropped up during the making of the prototype. I can cut into it with confidence, knowing that the idea in my head has survived its journey into the real world. And I can fully enjoy the process.
Perhaps that is something I am learning more generally about making: sometimes taking your time doesn’t slow you down at all. It simply means that when you finally get to the exciting bit, you can enjoy it so much more.