Laboratory Mode

...I am in it

In my last post, I talked about the route I took to where I am at the moment, which was full of rejections and failures. I said that next time I would write about the joyful position I find myself in now, where every day is filled with creativity. Yes, I would write about the feeling of having arrived, and how amazing it is to have finally found my mojo, and to be able to enter that zen-like flow state on a whim.

But you know what they say about making plans, and making God laugh? Except this joke wasn’t funny. Little did I realise that while I might see my sketching work as the manifestation of pure inspiration, with nothing between my brainwaves and the paper, others don’t always see it that way. Quelle surprise! The use of French is appropriate: two weeks ago I received a shiny new rejection email. I had applied to present my original sketchbooks of the work that went into Dublin In Sketches And Stories to the public at the next Rendezvous du Carnet de Voyage “the meeting of the travel sketchbooks”, which takes place every November in Clermont-Ferrand. The sketchbooks I filled over two years on the streets of Dublin are travel sketchbooks if ever there were any, but this email from France informed me that I am not wanted there this year…and it’s not the first time they’ve turned me down, either. So it seemed inappropriate to write a “wow, I’m so successful” post, and instead I thought I would let you in on the goings-on in my studio over the past month or so.

My Current Sketch Kit

At some point, I got it into my head that I would design and create a sketching bag that fitted exactly what I needed to sketch on the fly, and no more. I am not sure exactly what prompted this idea. I already had a super sketching kit-bag, given to me by Etchr when it first came out about eight years ago: it still looks like new, give or take a few grubby paint stains on the interior. You would not be able to tell from the outside that it has lain on streets, on beaches and in fields at least twice a week, the length and breadth of Europe, for nearly a decade. The zip is perfect. The exterior vinyl is a bit scuffed and the interior netting is slightly torn, and it smells like a cross between an old school desk (ink?) and a tramp, but that’s as far as it goes. So…I don’t really need a new one. Then again, a great proportion of my disposable income is spent on things I don’t really need, but that I just want. That said, I do want a bag that carries everything, including my sketchbook and water, and the Etchr bag fits neither.

Fabric Sculpture Rocks…Mostly

I love creating three-dimensional stuff involving fabric, as a kind of sculpture. As a child, I used whatever materials I had to hand - mostly fabric, felt and things I found in the woods or in the undergrowth - and put into reality the images in my mind. I was often volunteered to make costumes for school plays. I didn’t need much persuasion, but once I was volunteered to make a horse costume for a boy in a fifth class play. I didn’t plan it out, just made it up as I went along. My husband and one of the children were watching a really good film in the living room across the house from me, where I was sewing on the dining room table. I was bristling with resentment and getting very tired. At around half past eleven, I put the finishing touches to it. It had camel-brown felt for the head, pale pink felt for the nose, black fake fur for the mane, and the whole head was tightly packed with wadding. I got my husband to try it on, and he sat there, the horse’s head sticking straight up on top of his head, deadpan…I burst into laughter, and realised there was no possible way a child could wear that in a PG-rated school play. Still laughing, I had to do some emergency adjustments.

One of my less successful “sculptures”.

Follow Your Dreams (Unless They’re Stupid)

Once I get an idea, no matter how absurd, it’s getting done: some years ago I made two beautiful monkeys out of striped pyjamas that my kids had outgrown. The girl monkey had hot pink and pale grey stripes with yellow lips and, and the boy monkey had royal blue and pale grey stripes with burnt orange lips. I sketched them, and even wrote and illustrated a recipe starring them as the cooks. A lot of time and effort went into this and no one liked them at all when I posted them on social media. I realised that just because I think something is incredible, the world doesn’t necessarily agree: this way of testing the waters of public opinion is just one of the myriad ways in which social media is useful.

A gouache rendition of the stupid wonkily-sewn ex-pyjama monkey children, stars of their own illustrated cooking show, that no one cared about.

Because of rabbit-holes like this, for me it’s useful to have family or friends to shout STOP when I go on a solo run: then again, the same people have tried to call a halt when I said I wanted to be a professional artist (“you just want to be paid for messing around” - my best mate) and write a book (“it will be read by about three of your women friends” - husband) and the howling success of both of those ventures suggests I sometimes have to follow my whim in the face of oppostion from my nearest and dearest.

I told my family I was planning to design and make a sketching bag. This time I encountered no opposition, and it’s been full steam ahead for the last couple of months. In fact, my family has been sweetly enthusiastic, with questions and comments that convince me they’re genuinely interested.

My sketching bag would contain exactly what I like to have with me when I sketch in a small area, and would work whether I have to sketch standing up, or somewhere where I can’t have a pot of water, such as on a plane, or in a museum. It would have to have space to accommodate everything I need when I leave the house: my phone, two slots for bank or travel cards, accessible without opening the bag and maybe even a set of keys. It would leave my hands free in transit, so it would have a cross-body strap. Off I set to sew.

After making my third version, I was ready to ask a small focus group for their opinions. They’re some of my long-term students, and would of course be my market, too. They came through for me, and during our brainstorming session over Zoom we agreed the following:

1. Branded fabric, not plain.

2. Designed such that it could hang open without spilling any of the contents.

3. Two D-rings on one side for a strap.

4. Elastic down the central gusset for miscellaneous pens or pencils.

5. Waterproof fabric.

6. Available empty as well as stocked with sketching kit.

7. A white version as well as a black version.

8. When it comes to marketing, emphasise the fact that it’s made by a women’s sewing cooperative from Albania, whose menfolk have left to look for work abroad.

I took most of these things on board: the bag is made in the fabric I designed with my logo on it, rather than the black fake suede I toyed with. I really thought about the spill factor, and after a few near-disasters where I didn’t notice dropped pens, I redesigned it so that nothing falls out now.

I did four versions, tweaking and improving each time (you should have seen the first ones). I sent Version 4 to Albania with my business teacher Declan for a manufacturing quote: he has social enterprise business contacts there.

Then, just as I was feeling pleased with myself, I stumbled across someone who had already done exactly what I was planning to do. I wasn’t surprised, as making art is kind of universal, and it’s so easy (with a bit of effort and determination) to design and manufacture a physical product, including one that helped everyone make art more easily. These people are based in Seattle, and their product is very nice: from them I got the idea to do two sizes, one to fit an A5 sketchbook and one for an A6 sketchbook.

There were others offering similar products but each was different in some core way to my own offering. More importantly, competition is always a good thing - awareness of a concept is vital, and someone with deeper pockets will have paved the way. So I continued iterating my design with confidence.

Soon it was time to find a name for the product. I really should have stuck with “Project X” or whatever, but everyone knows the best part of having a child or getting a puppy is thinking up a name, and it’s the same with designing a new product. I liked the name “SketchPocket” because I felt the hard, Saxon-sounding consonants worked well together; it also describes the product succinctly, and has the word Sketch in it.

But nothing is set in stone yet, and besides I would have to think of names for the smaller and larger versions of the bag. I consulted my daughter Liv, who has just turned nineteen.

“I had a thought on the way back from my walk,” I told her. “Sketch Revolution!”

“Don’t you think that’s a litttle…incendiary?” she said. She’s even-keeled and sensible.

“Perhaps,” I said, “but I want to convey the idea that sketching is something easily done, without planning. How about…”Sketch Whenever”?”

“Hmm,” she said. “Sketch Daily?”

“That’s nice,” I said. “I know! You’ve given me a great idea! “Casual Sketch”! Thanks Liv!”

“Noooo!” came the response. “I did NOT give you that idea!”

“Thanks Liv!” I said again. “I will use it, and credit you!”

“I’ll see you in court!” said Liv.

Much as this amused me, I won’t be using the name Casual Sketch. It’s childish. You can use it for your next sketching bag. You’re welcome.

I recently finished Version 8 of the smaller SketchPocket. Versions 5, 6 and 7 were all wrong in some way. This time, some things went right, some things went wrong. I am extremely grateful to the incredible sewists on YouTube whose tips and skills have been so instrumental in my getting this far. (I must return the favour by putting more detailed sketching videos up on YouTube myself.) Version 9 is next.

All of this means that I am stretched a little thin these days, and it can feel a little dizzying at times, not to mention costly: I now have some versions hanging up in my studio that aren’t right, but whose components all came with a price tag. For once I don’t begrudge that, nor the time spent thinking and re-working, re-sewing, re-starting.

As well as the women on YouTube who have so generously shared their sewing skills, I have many podcasters and audiobook authors to thank for giving me the confidence to take a chance with a new product. I love the NPR podcast about entrepreneurs, How I Built This, with Guy Raz; the books Small Business Flight Plan by Donald Miller and The Power Of Broke by Damond Johns; and countless others. These shows and books remind us that we can make pretty much anything work that we put our minds to.

Except maybe pyjama monkeys.

SketchPocket version 8: I’m getting there, little by little. I don’t know how to do arrows in Canva - but the things I have written are all in there!

Maybe Version 9 will be the one I get right, the one I make a paper pattern for…but I doubt it.

Onwards and upwards!