Simpleminded
24/4/13 14:12![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I tried to knit this:

(Arpeggio by Maria Leigh on Ravelry)
It appealed to me because its design embodies a high order of complexity. Everything about it is difficult and demanding--the stitch, the construction method, the shaping, the sizing, the finishing. It's hard to cast on, hard to bind off, and unforgiving for every row in between.
I thought I could do it, but I couldn't. Everything difficult about it was, for me, actually impossible.
Admitting defeat on the Arpeggio sweater was a big deal. I abandoned knitting altogether for more than a year rather than face it.
vampirefan kept nudging me, though, and a couple of months ago I decided to reboot my relaxing hobby by making this:

(from the All The Shades of Truth wrap pattern by Laura Aylor on Ravelry
I turned my nose up at the pattern because it embodied almost no complexity. It was easy to start, easy to end, and easy to keep track of in between. So I finished it. And what's more, I'm happy with it. (Thank you,
vampirefan!)
Conceding to its simplicity has triggered a disturbing realization: my nature is not nearly as capable of complexity as I've wanted to believe. No matter how much I like the idea of tricky puzzles and nuanced, elegant constructions, I'm not very good at them.
I have a simple mind.
There's been plenty of evidence for this over the years. My spatial reasoning test scores were in the basement. I have no sense of direction. There's an absolutely chronic need to overdesign my projects and a concomitant failure to finish them. My past is littered with unused yarn and unwritten novels.
I've been a Squib in my career, too, unable to achieve modest goals through compromise and patience, stressed out by my colleagues' inability to see my glorious vision. Why are there all these DETAILS and MOVING PARTS and CALCULATIONS between here and there? And why are you bothering me with them?
Yesterday,
ravurian accused me of wanting to write "something of genius, of brilliance, of consequence."
"Deliberately setting out to write that way," he said, "is a recipe for anxiety and stagnation."
He's not far from the mark: I want to make things that are complex. Wheels within wheels, technique upon technique, layers meshing together into something gorgeous and elegant and highly ordered: the cardigan, the novel, the uncompromisingly efficient program, the perfect small living space.
The fact is, I can't. It's not in my nature.
Stagnation and anxiety--not to mention self-loathing--from of all my creative failures has been heavier than I knew, and it's a relief to let them go. But I think I may need a period of mourning for the part of me, however imaginary, that I'm now killing off.
Maybe once it's buried I can do something with the mind I've actually got.

(Arpeggio by Maria Leigh on Ravelry)
It appealed to me because its design embodies a high order of complexity. Everything about it is difficult and demanding--the stitch, the construction method, the shaping, the sizing, the finishing. It's hard to cast on, hard to bind off, and unforgiving for every row in between.
I thought I could do it, but I couldn't. Everything difficult about it was, for me, actually impossible.
Admitting defeat on the Arpeggio sweater was a big deal. I abandoned knitting altogether for more than a year rather than face it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)

(from the All The Shades of Truth wrap pattern by Laura Aylor on Ravelry
I turned my nose up at the pattern because it embodied almost no complexity. It was easy to start, easy to end, and easy to keep track of in between. So I finished it. And what's more, I'm happy with it. (Thank you,
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Conceding to its simplicity has triggered a disturbing realization: my nature is not nearly as capable of complexity as I've wanted to believe. No matter how much I like the idea of tricky puzzles and nuanced, elegant constructions, I'm not very good at them.
I have a simple mind.
There's been plenty of evidence for this over the years. My spatial reasoning test scores were in the basement. I have no sense of direction. There's an absolutely chronic need to overdesign my projects and a concomitant failure to finish them. My past is littered with unused yarn and unwritten novels.
I've been a Squib in my career, too, unable to achieve modest goals through compromise and patience, stressed out by my colleagues' inability to see my glorious vision. Why are there all these DETAILS and MOVING PARTS and CALCULATIONS between here and there? And why are you bothering me with them?
Yesterday,
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
"Deliberately setting out to write that way," he said, "is a recipe for anxiety and stagnation."
He's not far from the mark: I want to make things that are complex. Wheels within wheels, technique upon technique, layers meshing together into something gorgeous and elegant and highly ordered: the cardigan, the novel, the uncompromisingly efficient program, the perfect small living space.
The fact is, I can't. It's not in my nature.
Stagnation and anxiety--not to mention self-loathing--from of all my creative failures has been heavier than I knew, and it's a relief to let them go. But I think I may need a period of mourning for the part of me, however imaginary, that I'm now killing off.
Maybe once it's buried I can do something with the mind I've actually got.
(no subject)
24/4/13 22:07 (UTC)(no subject)
24/4/13 22:11 (UTC)Thanks.
(no subject)
24/4/13 22:40 (UTC)The scarf is nicer than the cardie would've been. It would've looked dated on you, I think; it's a style you've shed.
(no subject)
25/4/13 00:13 (UTC)I'm thinking now that not only is something on that order of complexity wrong for my brain--my abilities--but it's wrong for my wardrobe. For my whole way of life. For me, in general.
Not only am I simple-minded, but I'm glacially slow to sort things out and find a way to say them. Sigh.
(no subject)
25/4/13 00:18 (UTC)Really? Huh. I'd not have thought it about you. You actually have the writing chops to handle complexity.
(no subject)
24/4/13 22:46 (UTC)As for the sweater, ironically I bet you could get a very similar result with just plain 3x3 or 4x4 rib, and just hourglass shaping for a back and two front pieces.
(no subject)
25/4/13 00:16 (UTC)I'm about to embark on a much simpler cardigan using the yarn I bought for this one.
(no subject)
25/4/13 00:42 (UTC)(no subject)
25/4/13 01:05 (UTC)I think I just got lucky.
(no subject)
25/4/13 01:27 (UTC)(no subject)
25/4/13 02:45 (UTC)I'm glad you like it. I finished it just before the weather turned, so I won't really get full use of it till fall. I'm looking forward to it, to be honest.
(no subject)
25/4/13 02:14 (UTC)I'm sympathetic to your hard-won self knowledge, but your description of that cardigan is cracking me UP.
Your wrap looks great! Color block knitting would never have occurred to me.
(no subject)
25/4/13 02:52 (UTC)I'll say this about the Arpeggio cardigan: I cast on one sleeve literally ten times trying to get it right, and though I never did, I learned some wonderful new techniques. So, not an entirely wasted effort.
(no subject)
25/4/13 09:58 (UTC)The thing is, - and I identify with you completely in what you've said - I think you would be very quick to agree with me that there is immense beauty in simplicity. The peace of a single moment; the wind on your face; the rush of an ocean wave. In nature, complexity is most often achieved by the building of simple components: atom on atom, cell on cell. So it is with art, I believe. Complex stitches or sentence structures or plots are fine, but the most beautiful art in the world can be from a single brushstroke in the right place; from an idea communicated through ordinary, plain words.
Or from a warm shawl created in simple stitches but with the most amazing colours.
(no subject)
25/4/13 17:39 (UTC)It is utterly and completely true that beauty can reside in simplicity--arguably more readily than in complexity. And very often, true simplicity in art is hard to achieve. The stripping-away of non-essentials is an art form in itself.
I've recently learned that we don't know how to define complexity (or, by extension, simplicity). There's a huge new swath of science devoted to complexity theory. Popular science books and everything! I think it will be my next area of inquiry.
Meanwhile, in my own making endeavors, I'm stepping back to projects where simplicity is either inherent (I'm knitting a straightforward ribbed scarf in a single pretty color right now), or where the complexity is baked under a smooth interface (for example, in my job, where I already have mastery of the tools and templates). I expect to relieve a LOT of stress this way.
(no subject)
25/4/13 12:53 (UTC)I am still mulling over what you & ravurian) said about writing. I know i tend to be very dismissive of the stuff i can do naturally, in writing/acting/art, and take it for granted that it's easy, and so value other things more highly. This is probably not a good thing.
(no subject)
25/4/13 17:55 (UTC)What you say about devaluing the things that feel easy or come naturally provides me with the flip-side of this inquiry. I hadn't turned the coin over yet! This is great!
If, as a thought experiment, we re-cast ourselves as nations, we're going to enjoy the greatest growth, prosperity and freedom by leveraging our natural resources. The fact that Abu Dhabi can build an effective solar-powered city does NOT mean that Scotland should feel bad about itself. Scotland can have wind turbines.
Whatever. Do NOT depend heavily on my socioeconomic political metaphor. But yeah. The fact that you apparently tossed off fandom's greatest hit in a couple of weeks, and that you can now publish it and probably see it made into the most wonderful movie in movie history IN NO WAY DIMINISHES the awesomeness of what you've accomplished. On the contrary, the (apparent) ease of it adds to its awesomeness, possibly to everyone in the world other than yourself. Certainly to me.
In other words, it shouldn't be difficult. This somewhat American ideal of difficulty and conquest and pioneering and cutting trails through untamed wilderness (or maybe it's a somewhat British ideal of blood sweat and tears) is really, when you think about it, kind of
stupidwasteful.(no subject)
25/4/13 18:05 (UTC)I mean, plenty of tortured minds have produced great art. Maybe there's some connection, I don't know. But somehow we come away with the vague feeling that if we don't personally want to cut our ears off over it, we aren't doing anything worthwhile.
Combine that with the not-at-all-vague sense that if we aren't actually MAKING MONEY at it, it's also not worthwhile, and what do you wind up with? A lot of obligingly self-marginalizing creative people.
(no subject)
5/5/13 01:42 (UTC)(no subject)
5/5/13 02:22 (UTC)The big learning for me here has been realizing that about myself. I suspect that your approach has a lot more texture, and probably results in better stories, too.
(no subject)
5/5/13 22:25 (UTC)I think my approach is not so much lightheartedly a sort of 'take a chance' tactic, although that would be lovely, as a case of me feeling so much fear of/anxiety about pretty much everything that, in order to try anything new, I have to give myself permission to be crap at it before beginning. Perfectionism for me is another word for paralysis. I have to flail around just to get moving! And I'm okay with that, finally.
Although I'm sorry your cardigan didn't work out, FWIW I think it wouldn't have been half as beautiful as that fantastic wrap.
(no subject)
6/5/13 02:12 (UTC)I'm really glad I made this post, because the ensuing conversations have given me a lot to think about. I realize on thinking over your comment that I've tried to do what you do--give myself permission to be crap at something--and it seems to be beyond my capability. I'm beginning to see that there's another way out of the perfection-paralysis trap, and that's to do simpler things to begin with. I hadn't thought about from that angle. It's very helpful.
So, thank you!