Partially finished fabric illustration from my first ever dress collaboration.

The picture above shows a fabric design that I illustrated for an alum of Columbia’s fashion design department, Amy Marie Fenderson. That’s how it looked in February, at least; halfway-drawn on stark white paper, taking up my entire drafting table. In format and in function, the design was completely different when I finally saw it walk down the runway on an actual dress this past Saturday.

Being an interdisciplinary artist means that my work—usually found between pages of a book—can end up just about anywhere, which is an unbelievably exciting creative prospect. But having lots of irons in lots of fires means self-discipline, and oftentimes, self-discipline means self-editing.

Me (left) with designer Amy (right) who is wearing the dress we made together.

Seeing this dress come to fruition was very rewarding; it’s not the type of project I do in my own work, but it’s something I’ve been interested in for a while. But this project, like all projects, was made possible only by sacrificing my participation in other artistic ventures. There simply isn’t enough time to attend graduate school, hold a job or jobs, complete your own work, and accept every creative whim or proposal that comes your way.

Editing myself down to only the workload that I am realistically able to complete has been one of the toughest things to gauge. I specifically remember that, at the time I was executing this fabric design, I had to politely decline an invitation to exhibit my work with a group of artists that I respected and looked up to. It was tough to decline, as I didn’t know if I would ever get invited back—but truthfully, my work for that show would have been rushed and probably not up to the standards that I would have liked.

I see this problem pop up in the art world again and again, on both a macro and micro scale. Just today, I was hanging a show of printed broadsides—which only really started to shine when we decided not to include about half of the prints. Last year, I watched my friends planning their thesis shows panic and overwork themselves, only to later fervently advise me about how important quality is over quantity throughout the thesis process.

Now that I’m approaching thesis year myself, this topic is all-too-relevant once again. Show invitations, the chance to design more fabric, exhibition and selling opportunities—all of these things are back, and more! And that’s not to mention the time that it takes to actually make the work itself. I haven’t figured out the perfect time-management or editing formula yet, but I’ll let you know when I do. For now, I’ve got to go—the print shop needs my films by Tuesday, or they won’t be able to finish my book by August, so ShopColumbia won’t be able to sell it at EXPO Chicago, and it won’t be done in time for the Weisman show, and I won’t be able to take it to the New York Art Book Fair with me, and… see what I mean? Now I’ve made myself sick…