Being a Surface Designer is both frustrating and rewarding in the sense that you are not simply limited to painting and photoshop. Being a Surface Designer means you get to work with paper, dye, fabric, paint, pastels, wool, string and pretty much every other medium you can think of.
Not only do you have to work with different art supplies, you have to take on many different vocations. Furthermore, you have to work as these vocations without any training. I have been: a contortionist while painting five meters of hand dyed silk in a room not much bigger than the fabric itself; a professional packer while fitting Micheals’ craft store into only two lockers; a sculptor when I had to make my own mannequin out of only masking tape. The list goes on.
This is the story about how I learned my next trade. Football. My husband and I live in a two bedroom apartment. One room is allocated for craft supplies, but since anything that gets put into that room seems to procreate (seriously, I have thrown out over eleven garbage bags of stuff from that room alone and I still can not walk through it), I cannot physically do my art in there. As a result, I do most of my work in our living room, kitchen, bathroom, you name it (thank you Ryan for still loving me).
So one day, I was painting this very nice, very expensive piece of silk. I had to do it in one small section at a time because of the lack of space. Ombre. Oh the coveted ombre. “It will be easy” I said. “It will be fast” I thought. No. Ombre is one of the hardest things to dye in the world (if you want it done correctly). So as I am spending DAYS on my first SECTION of this five meter piece of silk, I realize that the part that I have finally completed has somehow gotten a big splotch of BROWN (ew) dye on the lightest coloured section. I died. I literally died.
As I stood squashed between my kitchen table with the ruined silk and the kitchen window a few inches behind me, I picked up an empty glass jar that stood on the window sill. This jar had been knocked over by me countless times since I had started painting the silk. As the jar was just about to leave my fingertips, heading directly towards our brand new Macbook Air, my husband yelled, “NO DON’T!” That is when I became Drew Brees. At the very last second I spun that jar with such perfection that Drew himself would have been proud. Fortunately for our Mac, our computer was spared. Unfortunately for our wall, it was not.
Luckily, I have a degree in PR that I received from years of studies at the Facebook-Instagram Academy. So of course, I knew what to do. I covered that shit up. I have now disguised the hole with a cute working space so no one will know the hole is even there. How “pinterest” (psycho) of me.
“The work of art is a scream of freedom.”- Christo