No, I don't mean to imply that there's another version forthcoming; "Work in Progress" is just the title.

I am a weaver by trade. I have a weaving loom in my room, my boss gives me a bag full of yarn and a note saying what it should be, and I weave it and turn it in. The throws I make are obscenely high-ticket items that I could never actually afford. They generally go to fancy art and design stores and sell to extremely rich people. Look, here's one with an online catalog:
http://www.pandorasantafe.com/catalog/guh.html
(Gretel Underwood is my boss, and also the designer and promoter. She goes to shows and sells her own name and designs, like high-ticket clothing designers that sell things by their own name, only for weaving.)

Sometimes, when I'm working, the permanence of what I'm working on just hits me. To me, this throw is something I need to get X inches into before I can go to bed. I make, on average, three per week. I exchange them for money that in turn gets exchanged for rent, utilities, and food, and never see them again.

The throws themselves are more or less ever-lasting, though. I may not see what becomes of them, but the people who actually pay the almost $700 or so for one get something that they'll have on display for years. I make countless snap decisions regarding "Quick, should I use the red or the blue for this section?" per day, and the results of those decisions will probably exist sixty years from now. I quickly work out whether I should I make a zig-zag or another column, pick a random order for the colors of all the ribbons on the fringes on either end, try to get through these things in no more than one or two days each, and the end result will probably end up discussed in some people's wills. It blows my mind.

I tried to capture that in a photograph. My camera sucks, but I tried very hard to at least get some telling composition. I wanted to capture a line. Everything below it is neatly packed into place, looking like it's always been like that. That's how it will continue to look for decades. Then, you get to the part I haven't finished yet, and you have some strings, a strand of yarn, and a weaving shuttle. When you go back to that Pandora's page, it becomes evident that the reason people [who can actually afford it] pay so much for these things is because people like me made them one row at a time, carefully planning each shot before packing it in.

But, you know, when you're sitting at a weaving loom pretty much all day, every day, I guess you're left with a lot of time to think about things like that.