Commitment - it's got it's virtues, but let's face it...it's just not as fun as dreaming of the possibilities. The immaculate thought. The perfect idea. A piece of yard goods is perfect when it is unfurled on the cutting table. Pristine. It's possiblities are endless. In my mind, the creation I will make from it is already perfect.
But from the first cut of the scissors, I'm committed. Committed to doing THIS. Thereby ruling out the creation of THAT. And inevitably, my imperfect hands, my imperfect mind, will render an imperfect garment. Oh, I know it will look fine. And it will fit. And it will not look 'homemade'. But with the first cut of the scissors, perfection is no longer a possibility. Oh, such sweet sorrow.
And, somehow, I still dream perfection is possible. It's a figment of never-possibility...except in my mind, viewed through a piece of fabric, unfurled on the cutting board.