10 May 2009

Day One: My Well is Far From Dry

I confided in my mom about the issues surrounding my previous blog post.  
It wasn't easy but when I need to talk she's the ears I speak to. 

Now that I'm a mom myself, I can understand how part of being a mother is having the ability to love your children, even when they are at their worst.  

Thank you, Mom, for always loving me.  
And thank you for the card you gave me today.
The one where you wrote to me and reminded me that my well was far from dry.

(image courtesy of  Curly Girl Design)

I will hang this above my studio bench and keep there always.
So that when I forget that I DO still have ideas, it will be there to remind me.


This is a new beginning, in a way.  I have made some decisions.

For the next several days, maybe weeks, this blog will act as a creative diary as I try to pinpoint things in my life that inspire me.  As I try to get back to my roots.  And try to find something authentically me, completely personal and self-wrought.  Those of you who have contacted me have been forgiving and even supportive.  I'm very humbled my this, and am eager to dig deep, as you say, and come up in time with hands as full as my heart is now.

So here, for the time being, you may not find interesting jewelry.  You may not find interesting anything, as far as you're concerned.  But you will find honesty.  And you'll find a girl who's really, really trying to get herself together.


I began today.

It was lovely here in this corner of Carolina.  We had breezes and sunshine.  It was the perfect Day One.  Keith let me sleep in then took me and the baby out for fresh bagels and cream cheese.  We took our coffees and juice to the Raleigh flea-market for an afternoon of treasure-hunting.  Keith had given me a beautiful portrait of Mason as a Mother's Day gift, and I wanted to find an old ornate frame for it.  

And I wanted to start looking for bits of inspiration.  And for bits of myself.  

(rusted iron figurines)

(A crocodile crawls over the moon to reach a mermaid)

(The huge barge of ornamental objects)

It was the color that drew me in, and the lovely chaos that this collection of textures and shapes created.  Everything was weathered and imperfect, and charmingly so.  

I plucked my favorites from the pile to bring home with me.  
These are the first items in what I hope will become an anthology of inspirational objects and words.  
The first turns on a sort of three-dimensional roadmap to the place I hope to go.

(Finial Hummingbirds)

(Rusted Tulip Votive Holders)

(Mr. Peanut)

(Flying Pig Piggybank)

  1. Aside from the color and the texture of these silly things, I do think I'm drawn to the whimsy of them, and even to the sense of humor.  I like looking at things that make me smile.  
  2. There is something slightly off-key, a little discrepant to each item.  I know I enjoy a good contradiction; even Rosy Revolver is one.  I chose the name partially because of the mixed images it conjures up.  
  3. I love collections.  Groupings.  Keith teases me because any time I buy something for the house, it has to be in threes.  Candlesticks.  Picture Frames.  Even flavors of coffee.  I like mini-vignettes and compilations.  So much so that much of the decorating in my house looks more like the displays in a wonky little gift shop than it does the interior of a family home.
So it was a lovely day.  A really wonderful Mother's Day.
And I did walk away from the flea market more aware of some things.
I love rust.
And motherhood.
And color and texture.
And repetitive themes.
And humor.
And whimsy.
And the kind of work that can arch an eyebrow or two.
And make you feel good.

It's a broad beginning.  And I have a long way to go.  But I'm sorting it out, and am happy to do it.
Besides, I want my son to grow up with a mom who is sure of herself.

Happy Mother's Day, everyone.

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