Sunday, September 13, 2009

Getting crafty.

I agreed to be a part of a Christmas boutique.
There's something about holding a paintbrush. And getting glue on my fingers. It makes me feel
There's something about rummaging through scraps and ribbons and beads and buttons that makes me feel good. Comfortable.

It's been a while since I've been this way, anyway. Since I've actually made something. Writing and taking pictures is creative. But this is different.

There's something about taking a bunch of unlikely objects and bits and pieces and turning them into something that you see in your head. least real close.
These are prototypes. The more I thought about this boutique...and the more I thought about having to produce...the more I procrastinated. And made excuses. And talked myself out of it...all in my a matter of 4 seconds. The mind is a crazy thing, isn't it? My perfectionism was rearing it's ugly head and making snide comments to me...a lot. I finally blocked it out by telling myself that these little sweeties were just prototypes. Samples. Trial runs. And suddenly, that creativity that I have been craving began to flow...well, more like a trickle. But you have to start somewhere, right?


Elaine said...

Those pins are darling.

Starting somewhere is always a good thing.

You are so creative, I'm glad you're back at it.


Nancy said...


If it makes you feel good, just do it. No matter what that voice of perfectionism tells you (I completely understand where you're coming from on this one.).

Anonymous said...

I love their little hairstyles and cute little eyes. They look perfect to me : )

Conny said...

Your clothes pin photos remind me of a poem I must share. (I may post it on my own blog too, if I can find a great picture to go along with it.)


Light as two grasshopper husks,
Hinged wings,
Mirror image, seesaw,
Picket twin, swallowtail,
Wind foe.

Clatter in the sack
With your sisters--
Clamp cloth on rope in sun.

Cousin to peg,
To wheelbarrow,
To stool, to wagon, to needle and thread.
Cousin to button, to home remedies.
Instrument of the familiar.

The crux in hand, a woman’s tool.
Well worn as my feet.

O wood in palm,
Purveyor of order,
The business of carrying on,
The tune whistled under my windowsill.