sure two weeks straight of stitch, stitch, stitching, shoving metal wire piercingly through thick multilayered rubber and clip, clip, clipping hundreds of times a day should result in sore digits. need to find a sustainable pace. saturday i slowed, sunday full on break, today carefully stitching alternate material that provides little resistant to the wire, to my digits, yet they are still tender.
it is like a singer needing periods of silence to rest her primary instrument, so to, i must rest my opposable and clutching digits. so i do. but i have so much i want to make, it is difficult to obey the bodies limits, yet i am of the age i know there is tender and there is damage. i don’t want damage. ha. what the heck would i do then. a livelihood in art, though glamorized by cultural needs, is hardly a livelihood at all. and then there is academia, a systemic propagation of … undisclosed rant. excellence in either field is not reflected in terms of quality or capacity for food, shelter, etc. but the lack of useful digits scares me. shoot, what doesn’t scare me. it is not so much that i am more afraid than others, but as a watcher i am more tuned to certain realities than what i, as most, prefer to glaze over.
damaged digits, not a thought to ponder long. simply must care for them and work at a sustainable pace and partake of tool usage to extend my capacities.
oh beautiful clippies, but who resist my opposables, i’ve noted your formal beauty before, but am reminded that i want to develop a body of work that is ephemerally held together with only the clips. yes. yes. i do want to use you.