People imagine a studio as a calm place. Mine is calm in the way a kitchen is calm during dinner service: focused, a little chaotic, and full of half-finished things waiting their turn.
Right now the making queue has a dozen ducks with no eyes yet, a rose that has been redone twice because the colour was not right, and a panda I am quietly proud of. Each piece passes through the same pair of hands from first loop to final inspection, which is the slow part and the whole point.
I get asked why I do not just batch them out faster. The honest answer is that the moment I rush, you can see it. A stitch pulls, a face goes slightly wrong, and the thing loses the bit that made someone smile in the first place. So some weeks the queue gets long, and I would rather email you a new estimate than send you something stitched in a hurry.
What keeps me going is the mail. People send photos of a duck on a desk, a bouquet a year later still in bloom, a potato that apparently lives on someone's monitor and gets them through Mondays. That is the reason the queue exists at all.
Yellow Duck
$7
Sold out
Potato
$5
Sold outIf you have ordered and waited, thank you for your patience. If you are new here, welcome. Tell me who you are shopping for and I will help you find the right one. There is always one more in the queue.
Yours, Harry
