Letting ideas percolate
Many times, students come to class with a desire to learn a new skill or build a project, and I detect fear and urgency in their voices, as if they need to learn it now and if they don’t, the opportunity will be lost. While there will never be a perfect time, and I encourage you not to put off trying something new just because the situation isn't perfect at the moment, I have also learned over the years that if I care about something enough, I will keep the idea in my head and eventually get to it.
An example of this is my foray into Kumiko.
Everything about this journey has been about holding onto ideas for the long term and tackling them little by little.
Because of the seasonal nature of construction work, I often don’t get to tackle my more artistic projects until the fall and winter. Around this time of year, as the light shortens and the days get cooler, anticipation starts to build, and I start thinking more concretely about artistic projects that have just been ideas all summer, or even longer.
I first learned about the art of Kumiko in Fine Woodworking magazine. I saw it pop up in a piece by Mike Pekovich, and before long I was seeing it everywhere. As someone who is forever drawn to geometric art forms, I was immediately intrigued and knew I had to learn how to make it myself. It was years before the opportunity presented itself, but I kept that kernel of desire awake in a back corner of my mind. In 2019, I was tapped to teach the Decorative Techniques course at SUNY Delhi where I worked for several years. After teaching the course once, I knew that Kumiko would be a perfect fit for the class, and began to learn the techniques myself with the goal of adding it to the curriculum the following year. My enthusiasm, which had been smoldering all these years, was quickly fanned into a burning flame and I eagerly immersed myself in the art form. That summer, I added the first Kumiko class to the Hammerstone schedule, and it was filled to capacity with like-minded students attracted to the intricate patterns of this delicate art.
I had tackled the initial hurdle of learning basic Kumiko patterns placed within a rectangular grid, and there was a lot to perfect in terms of hand skills, as well as teaching methodology. These needed my time and attention, but there were still advanced Kumiko techniques I wanted to tackle. Once again, familiar and comfortable with the idea of the slow burn, I let these desires sit in the back of my mind, dreaming about them in the wee hours of the night, or mentally exploring them while hiking. I knew that it was an enduring passion, and even if my time was currently limited, there would come a day when I could once again fan the flame and take the next leap.
The impetus for my next flurry of Kumiko learning was inspired by the TV show Schitt’s Creek. In one episode, David, whose preoccupation with fashion usually irritated me, wore a sweater that caught my eye. Its intricately nested triangles looked like Kumiko executed in fabric! I knew I had to transform the pattern into wood, but before I could, I needed to learn how to make a diagonal framework, which required a new set of jigs to create an angled triple lap joint! As summer turned to fall and the hours dedicated to mowing and tending my orchard suddenly became available for woodworking, the challenge was on. With some YouTube guidance, I built the jigs I needed to create diagonal Kumiko patterns. Once again, my slow-burn passion was allowed to really flame up for a season, and I learned pattern after pattern, and finally made my own version of David’s sweater.
Since that last foray, it has been a while since I’ve really plumbed the depths of my Kumiko passion. I’ve worked on making larger pieces, but still using the patterns I am familiar with. And yet, the ember still burns in the back of my mind - there are so many more patterns that are ever more complex. They will require me to learn new techniques and create more jigs. I haven’t had time recently to fan that flame again, but I rest easily, confident that that day will arrive. Until then…
I dream about the ideas, paging through books, and contemplating different ways to tackle the challenges. I look forward to that day, not with anxiety that it might never come, or that it’s not here yet, but with anticipation and excitement, knowing that when it does arrive, it will be the right time.
Keep stoking the embers of creativity,
Maria