So, I’ve been working on a project for more than a year now, mostly in my head. It’s a trio of book dolls based on poems I’ve written which are based on characters in the Günter Grass novel The Tin Drum. (Pretty meta for poem-y book arts, right?) Among the plans: a pull-out eel, skirt pages and, um, a sort of fabric molting situation.
It’s going to take a while longer, but I thought I’d post some in-progress photos to 1) prove I’ve been up to something book-y and 2) provide myself a public record of progress that will hopefully inspire/shame me into finishing someday.
But before I do, a project like this gets me thinking: Why do we follow our creative impulses anyway? To many, they probably seem unimportant, or silly, or self-indulgent. And maybe they are. That said, there’s no stopping it. I couldn’t let this project go; my project manager side won’t drop it. It may take me three more years to finish, but I don’t care. I’ve seen them complete in my imagination, so that’s all there is to it. Thank goodness for impossible energy.