Yikes.

But, also, I get it.

Over the course of two decades of textile work, there’s one question I’m asked repeatedly. A question that gets at the heart of most creative work…

What’s the impact of the work?

Well… if you too would like to know the answer, you’re in luck— it’s my new research project.

Because while such works have been talked about, written about, shared and more, what hasn’t been discussed as much is the impact those works have had.

For the people who made those works, for their communities, for the world at large.

What does impact mean?

It means how the work changed you.

How the work echoed outward.

How people interpreted the work.

How the work inspired people.

How people remixed the work.

Who the work touched.

How the work touched you.

What this is actually all about

For centuries, creativity has been seen as part mystery, part alchemy, part weirdo endeavor, and I think a lot of that is because it can be hard to pin down why creative work, in a world that runs on scaling and proceeds and competition, actually matters.

(It’s been a while since I’ve written for publications, so if you know where I might share what I find, lemme know!)

As for its impact, I’ll keep you posted.

And now for a very unrelated segue

A reminder.

I’m writing this at a coffee shop. It’s freezing in here. (The only table with a free seat was near the door.)

The people next to me are talking about how great avocado toast is.

I mean it is great. It’s avocado, on toast. Both those things are great independently and great together.

But people don’t ask about its impact. In your creative work, there doesn’t have to be an impact.