There are people who can do all those things.
I don't know how, but they seem to be able to--
Beautifully executed projects that they have artfully photographed throughout the entire process, each step gorgeously and clearly lit, and techniques are illustrated with the addition of the artisan's hands--healthy cuticles and all.
Sometimes they mention a family. I can only assume that their clean, cheerful children happily play under the table, on the un-filthy floor of the studio, making adorable age-appropriate crafts with the scrap material. Sometimes there are photographs--wispy-haired, sweet creatures blowing dandelion seeds or with their little garnet-lips parted in awe over an exquisite bird's nest. There are no armless Transformer toys or spontaneously shed clothes anywhere!
I keep thinking when I get really good at something, I, too, will photograph the hell out of it.
Trouble is, whenever I start to get good at something, I've got to throw a wrench in it all. I can't just follow a pattern, do what it says with the recommended fabrics and buy all the right notions. No! I've got to make it out of old bike inner tubes, or Astroturf or chicken wire or a salvaged mink coat from 1967! I've got to take the sleeve from a 1990's Vogue pattern and fit it into a vintage McCall's pattern from 1943!
My children snigger at the flying fur, the wadded up, failed experiments, and my filthy language as I tear apart seams over and over. Then they take my scissors. Apparently to cut barbed wire. Who can take pictures?? I can't find my damn scissors!
Beautifully executed projects that they have artfully photographed throughout the entire process, each step gorgeously and clearly lit, and techniques are illustrated with the addition of the artisan's hands--healthy cuticles and all.
Sometimes they mention a family. I can only assume that their clean, cheerful children happily play under the table, on the un-filthy floor of the studio, making adorable age-appropriate crafts with the scrap material. Sometimes there are photographs--wispy-haired, sweet creatures blowing dandelion seeds or with their little garnet-lips parted in awe over an exquisite bird's nest. There are no armless Transformer toys or spontaneously shed clothes anywhere!
 |
| sidesaddle habit by Sarah Cannibal for Hippik. Vintage fabric and salvaged suede; altered Donna Karan coat dress pattern and side saddle apron |
I keep thinking when I get really good at something, I, too, will photograph the hell out of it.
Trouble is, whenever I start to get good at something, I've got to throw a wrench in it all. I can't just follow a pattern, do what it says with the recommended fabrics and buy all the right notions. No! I've got to make it out of old bike inner tubes, or Astroturf or chicken wire or a salvaged mink coat from 1967! I've got to take the sleeve from a 1990's Vogue pattern and fit it into a vintage McCall's pattern from 1943!
My children snigger at the flying fur, the wadded up, failed experiments, and my filthy language as I tear apart seams over and over. Then they take my scissors. Apparently to cut barbed wire. Who can take pictures?? I can't find my damn scissors!
 |
| Upcycled sweaters and belts by Sarah Cannibal for Hippik |
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