How fortuitous that that particular word came to mind. Because to create we may have to destroy. The previous post quoted the principle at PIXAR which said to be wrong as fast as you can. That means
1) make something
2) *then destroy it
3) to make something better:
repeat from *.
Ripping is essential to knitting. And in the next book I acknowledge this necessity. I do this as kindly as I can, and with as much encouragement as I can, knowing our reluctance to pull out hours of work.
So I read that part of the book to a friend--who does a lot of carpentry--to make sure it had the right tone. And we had an ensuing conversation about what he called "right-mindedness" during a "tear out." Here are some of our conclusions.
- If you are certain you know what the problem is, don't let the sun set before ripping. (Otherwise, you'll pack the piece away and "get to it sometime . . . .")
- If you are not absolutely certain you know what the problem is, sit with it for a while . . . sleep on it . . . play with it . . . to see if you can't fix the problem in some creative way that does not involve a complete tear out. Do not pack it away and start on something new until you have done this. The result might be the piece telling you what it needs. (And no, I do not hear other voices. Knitting is my only inanimate object that speaks aloud.)
- Rip in public--with dignity, with decorum, with sedate pride. It's a valuable lesson for others to see a knitter (who knows the lesson of patience better than most) pull out hours of work to get something right.
- Rip in private, and curse if needed. (A young person raised in my household went off to university and called after the first month to say he'd been in a common room where someone behind him was swearing like crazy, so he turned around to see who was knitting.)
- As you rip, remind yourself that the first thing you were going to do after this project was find more knitting: you just found it!