Oof, what a week it has been. Actually great, but oh-so-exhausting. The reason it's been so exhausting is that my week started with a 14-hours work trip to the north of Israel (I live near Tel Aviv, which is right in the middle), where I escorted an executive from the US to her company's factory as an interpretor. Now, usually I do translation, not interpretations, which means I translate written material, and in my case it's normally - and preferably - literature. I love my job very much and can't really picture myself doing anything else (except, maybe, designing and sewing full time). Having said that, that random job I've been on in Monday turned out to be one of the most wonderful, inspiring and interesting experiences in my years as a translator. Weirdly, I can thank my involvement with sewing world for that.
Turns out that factory we were to visit was actually a clothes factory which caters to many of America's leading brands (I'm not allowed to say more than that [now I feel so important]). Going into the knitting workshop, where they manufacture all the knit fabrics was truly fascinating. Seeing those crazy, noise-bombarding knitting machines spinning was nothing short of hypnotizing. The cutting was also neat to watch. But what made this experience so special was walking into the sewing workshop: dozens and dozens of sewing machines, cover stitch machines and sergers - each with a devoted seamstress nearby, sewing, serging, testing the fabric. And they were all SMILING. I tell you, I felt like I was Lucy, pushing a few plain coats in a closet and discovering the magical realm of Narnia.
14 hours later, exhausted but inspired, it struck me how similar sewing and translating are at times. It's something that's been on my mind since I started sewing, and even more so since I found Gertie's blog, who also works in the publishing industry. You can never sew or translate if you're a mistake-o-phobic, because you simply won't stand the pressure. To sew -or translate- you need to be willing to rip rebellious seams, adjust patterns and so on, literally or figuratively. Alas, to sew or to translate properly you must be enough of a perfectionist control freak to then regard your work as unfinished until you have smoothed all bumps, gone over your piece of text/ile again and again until it seems practically seamless and even then, for most translators/sewistas I know, you will always see something wrong with the outcome even if people stop you in the street to praise your masterpiece or publish an admiring critique of your translation in the newspaper.
So - text, textiles - that's okay, but where do the tiles figure in? Oh, that's pretty simple: they don't. They just sneaked in this week, along with all other things regarding our new apartment's decorating. We are hoping to move there in a month or so, and so of course everything with tiles, carpenters etc is going nuts. I'm sure it will be alright - after all, if I can rip seams and edit a translation I'm practically SuperGirl, ain't I?
(Candle, flower, books and Picnik tricks brought to you by a very sleepy me)