New Storage for the Studio

I can't go into an art and craft supply store without getting into trouble. I ventured into Hobby Lobby for a pen; I came out with a new storage chest. Actually it was a bit more involved than that. I bribed my son to go back with me to manhandle this thing through the checkout and home (the bribe involved me bringing all his chemistry supplies that he should have taken himself to class, but forgot). He literally picked the thing up in the back of the store and carried it the whole way. I knew there was a reason my refrigerator and pantry are always bare!

The chest just seemed so perfect, with a load of drawers midsize between the tiny drawers in the tabletop organizers and the large baskets in the Elfa stacks. One dozen drawers -- twelve! The perfect size for storing silver sheet and wire, as well as tools. Plus a small cabinet. And on sale, of course, which is why I had to go back today and get it after dreaming about it for two nights.

It also seemed made for displaying the vintage birdcage I bought on e-bay. Now I'm dreaming of a bird to go inside. Fiber or polymer? I haven't decided yet, but I'm definitely in love with the new acquisitions.

Studio Reorganization Continues

Over the weekend, I got the new table together and more display shelves mounted on the wall. Rather, my wonderful Keenan did those things under my supervision. I'm slowly organizing the beads and wire that have lived piled on my sewing table for ages now into those new drawers. I might even be able to sew again, which would be nice, since I want to finally hang a curtain on the window in this room.

I decided I would follow my friend Lorena Angulo's lead, and put some of my favorite jewelry pieces out on display when I'm not wearing them. I'll do that, just as soon as I find them! See her amazing studio here and here.

You can see I'm bringing in more and more stuff, if you compare this newer photo of the clay area with the earlier version here.

What you can't really see is the clutter on my desk near my computer, which is buried under chemistry prep for tomorrow's class, or the folding table still laden with supplies in the near left foreground, along with four dining chairs awaiting some able-bodied (not me) person to spirit them back downstairs.

Stay tuned for closeups and details about some of the treasures finally on display.

Forget about Perfect

Today's choice from Bruce Mau's Incomplete Manifesto of Growth:

2. Forget about good.
Good is a known quantity. Good is what we all agree on. Growth is not necessarily good. Growth is an exploration of unlit recesses that may or may not yield to our research. As long as you stick to good you'll never have real growth.

I'm coupling that with #8 from Bob Parsons' 16 Rules to Live By: Be quick to decide.

I have this perfectionism streak. I get stuck because I can't do things exactly the way I want them. Sometimes I procrastinate because I can't figure out an acceptable solution. When something breaks it can shut me down until it's fixed. I hate that!

Since my oxygen source is out of commission, I need to make do with what I have available. I can't do double-beaded connections, so I'll just have to wire wrap, which is certainly easier. I don't like the look as much, but this is about getting started again, not about being perfect.

It seems like the opportune time to use up old supplies, such as fancy headpins for the flower centers. It took a few minutes of fussing to figure out how to make things hang right, but now I can think about variations on this simple flower earring idea.

It feels so much better to have it finished, rather than still waiting on the equipment repair, which sounds like it will involve shipping to the manufacturer, unless I decide to play scientist and look at it myself. Wonder where I can buy a can of molecular sieve???

P.S. Funny echo in the calculus lecture this morning (we're using Thinkwell for our homeschool calculus, because Ed Berger is an incredibly gifted teacher): If you can't do something, DON'T! Do something easier. See how many parallels there are between science and art?

Begin Anywhere

Today's choice from Bruce Mau's Incomplete Manifesto of Growth:


9. Begin anywhere.
John Cage tells us that not knowing where to begin is a common form of paralysis. His advice: begin anywhere.


As I work on reorganizing the studio, handling my supplies and tools, I feel the creative mood rising. How can I label drawers for semiprecious gemstones, handling those gorgeous drops of color, and not feel the urge to make something? "But what?" the inner critic asks. Something simple, I think. One thing leads to another. Just begin with the easiest things. 


I decided I'd try to make a lampwork bead. The simplest things, just spacers, or plain bicones for electroforming. For the first time in five months, I turned on my torch. Wouldn't you know it? It seems there's something wrong with my oxygen concentrator. I had that feeling a few weeks ago when I tried to use the Little Torch to do a quick enamel firing, and I couldn't get it to work. After letting the oxycon run for hours, I concede that it probably needs a little help. Tomorrow I'll call about it and see if there's something obvious that I'm missing or if it needs a refurbishment.

After moping around the house for a bit, I decided I'd better make something out of silver clay. That's easy, right? So I whipped out a few small flowers and leaves, similar but smaller (and silver) to the bronze bracelet I made here. The flowers will stack with the leaf hanging below. I'm debating enameling them, but first I'll stay with the easy things and just get them fired.


Can't get much simpler. It's a start. 

Drifting

Today's choice from Bruce Mau's Incomplete Manifesto of Growth:


8. Drift.
Allow yourself to wander aimlessly. Explore adjacencies. Lack judgment. Postpone criticism.


Since returning from the PMC Guild Conference, I have a bit of ennui. I'm distracted. I want to redo the studio. I have to plan homeschool chemistry and calculus courses. I need to turn on the glass torch and begin the practicing that will get me back to making beads. I must go finish my physical therapy, and find a gym to replace it.  I get sidetracked into restarting old projects, such as the carved wooden mirror that I'm repainting, or the lampshades I keep intending to paint with my bird scenes. 

Ah, it must be that fallow time when new work is percolating deep down beneath the surface, unseen. What will come when it bursts through to the surface? More waiting to see.

Organizing the Work Table

I'm going out of order on listing items from Bruce Mau's Incomplete Manifesto of Growth. I decided I'd read down until I found one that fit my day and then use it. Since I'm still working on the studio, organization seemed to be the theme.

30. Organization = Liberty.

As I reorganize, I've been thinking about issues with my work space that I'd like to correct. One annoying thing that happens regularly to me is that I lose critical tools on my work table. The needle tool that was just there isn't. The correct playing card set is missing from the stack. I've been trying to place things back in a specific place so that I'll be able to find them again, but still I have trouble. Tonight I wandered through Pier 1 in search of dishes, baskets or boxes to help me delineate homes for all my regular tools.

I came home with a collection of kitchenware to repurpose for the studio.



Small white trays to corral the cards and most often used tools.
Tiny square plates to catch the drips from my olive oil and water bottles.
A collection of square bowls for sorting the small greenware components that have been filling the upper left corner of my glass worktop.
And flared glasses to hold tools, somehow more alluring than the metal pencil containers I used before.

Will it work? Only time will tell. Looks almost ready to go. I only wish it would stay nice and neat forever.

Incomplete Manifesto for Growth

The latest addition to my studio inspiration is this clever wire bird sculpture by Nakisha of Blue Dog Rose Studios. I've been wanting one for ages, and this week I treated myself to "hope" as a reward for perseverance.

And from the studio debris, another treasure surfaced: Bruce Mau's Incomplete Manifesto for Growth. This was an old print out,  from years ago when I still worked in fiber regularly. I think I'm going to post the list slowly, one by one, with my thoughts on how they manifest for me.

First off:

1. Allow events to change you.
You have to be willing to grow. Growth is different from something that happens to you. You produce it. You live it. The prerequisites for growth: the openness to experience events and the willingness to be changed by them.


Well, if this year doesn't change me, I don't know what will. I certainly view my mother's death and my own serious injury within a month of one another as life-changing events.  That's what happened. But how do I grow from it? 


I am changed, unquestionably. Some changes are good. Good things I've learned: I'm stronger than I expected. My pain threshold is higher than I thought. Sheer will, hard work, and good surgeons can do amazing things. Some changes are not so good: I now know I'm not invincible (like I really ever thought that!). Life can change forever in a second. Some things are not fixable. Some hurts are so big they never heal. 


How will this change my art? I think it's too soon to tell. Until my body is at least healed enough to feel almost normal, I don't think my mind is capable of integrating the changes. I'm told that six months is almost magical for my type of injury, that it's possible I'll wake up one morning and not immediately feel the "wrongness" in my leg. I'm also told I might need to take the hardware out, which would extend the recovery. The surgeon says that approaching normal may take a year, and that the bone is not completely healed for even longer. It's a long time to hang in limbo. It will be interesting to see what comes of it.