Our desire as a species, to create, is without limitations. We have made things both exalted and profane, inspired and banal, spiritual, and deeply carnal. But the impulse to create exists in all of us, regardless of who we are, how we grew up, or what our level of education was. We must make things.
For some of us, making means tinkering with motors, or tending to gardens. Others make by dancing, singing, or juggling numbers to find a theorem. Still others, like me, take textiles, or small things like beads, and fashion things out of them that take other life, just like all those other makers do, every day.
Just today, I was feeling bereft of inspiration about what to say here. I decided to let myself abide with that.
I got to thinking about my partner's recent short trip to Mexico, and the jewelry he brought back for himself, and for me. Then I found myself standing in front of the bank of drawers that house all the accumulated embellishment stuff of many years. Why not make a few new things, says I? So I did. Just so simple.
Perhaps it is that, that exists at the heart of much of the violence that plagues our world. We do not honor, or support the creative in ourselves. We dumb it down. We sequester it. We make it go silent in service of uniformity. Perhaps, just perhaps, it is this tendency we have to strive for sameness in order to feel safe, and secure, that is the root of all this mess we live with. I cannot say. I am no oracle. It's only a thought I had, but one, I think, that bears consideration.
Red and Black necklace: Carved ebony, glass, ceramic, painted wood, sterling silver.
Black and Blue necklace: Antique Deco glass pendant, quartzite, glass, ceramic.