Why . . . Not?

Based on how long it takes me to do one 14" crazy quilt block the way I want to do it, I'm probably going to be spending upwards of 1000 hours this year to make one quilt (and at this point I'm not sure I'll even finish it.) The finished project cannot be actually used as a quilt, so it's definitely art. I'm not especially gifted or skilled with embroidery, so it won't be one of those spectacular crazies that ends up in a museum, either. So why do it?

Wait, it gets even more depressing. I'm making this quilt from recycled silk, which even if it is carefully preserved will likely fall apart in less than a hundred years. Only no one in my family really likes my art or my quilting much unless it's something they can use, so I expect after I'm gone the finished quilt will be sold or donated -- or possibly thrown out. Whatever happens to it, I doubt it will stay together longer than maybe fifty years.

So really, why do it? This is a question I would usually ask myself.

To work at something that has no real purpose or profit seems selfish. I've been trained practically since birth to devote myself and my efforts to purposeful work. Aside from the five years I took off when my guy and I started having kids, I've had a job every year since I was 13, usually full-time. Say forty years of working 40 hours a week: I've worked at least 80K hours to earn my living (probably more). In my childhood I also babysat and looked after my younger brother and sister while my mom worked, and the neighbors' kids when they needed me. I ended up raising my younger sister and two nephews as well as my own kids. Pretty much every dime I've ever made has gone toward providing for my guy and our children and our extended families; I've also helped friends, colleagues and even people I don't know. I'm still putting my kid through college and helping out Oliver and his parents. You can call me a lot of things, but not selfish.

This project is absolutely frivolous, and I know that, too. Not a penny I invest in it will ever be returned to me. I have paid off my own debts and have a bit tucked away for retirement, but I don't waste money. We don't own a big house or fancy rides. I've got an 18 year old car I paid off long ago and still drive. I mostly shop at Goodwill for clothes. I've stopped buying new books and magazines and fabric. A few years back I gave what little nice jewelry I have to my daughter, as I never wear it. I cut my own hair, cook my own meals, make most of my gifts and spend only when absolutely necessary.

So, seriously, why I am doing all this work to make a silk crazy quilt that no one cares about or wants, and that has no value? Doesn't that make it entirely pointless? Why am I not asking myself these questions?

Unlike just about everything else I do in life, this quilt has no purpose. It's simply something I've always wanted to do. There is no logic to it. It's my little Mt. Everest, my swan song, my quilt bucket list #1. Yes, it may be viewed as selfish, and frivolous, and for once in my life I don't care.

This quilt is for me, and the joy I feel every time I sit down to work on it. For the pleasure it gives me. For the delight I know I'll feel once it's finished. It's my art, my bliss, and my reward -- and I think after a lifetime of purposeful work I have earned that much.

That's why. :)