Big, fat drops are dropping from the porch eaves. It almost seems they've worked out a rhythm in their falling. I wonder.
I'm sitting on my gold couch with my art cart in front of me. I wish I could say it is ultra organized, but, as you can imagine, working off a cart formerly used for someone's kitchen cart in the 70s leaves room for disorganization.
My creativity comes with disorganization. It just does. I could have an entire studio of creative spools of thread, bins of goodies, cloth for making books, and on and on, and I'd still have that haphazard look going on.
And I've learned to accept it.
I accept the two bottles of glue on my cart. One glue is new and works smartly. The other bit of glue probably is as old as my art cart. You have to press so hard to make the glue come out and wait so long; I feel like it is a workout or something.
Also on my cart, I have Modge Podge, watercolor crayons, my new journal I've been avoiding, my cell phone with the pretty pink and cream roses cover, a greeting card I've been working on, two spools of ribbon--one rickrack (whoever made up that word) and one kind of twine-like thick thread. And that's just a sampling.
This is a gift I've been given--I guess--to be messy. It's the upheaval of all things creative that feeds my soul and makes my heart bounce with artistic glee.
You'd think I'd spend all my time looking for stuff, but actually, although the items are in a bit of disarray, I can usually find them right away.
Art, I've found, comes to us to make a difference in our lives. That difference might look like Martha Stewart's studio or it might look like my art cart. If all I had was my own lap to create on, art would still come, and isn't that a beautiful thing.
So I'll sit here with my ramshackle supplies and appreciate the way art comes to me. I'll appreciate how a final product can birth itself from the humble beginnings of my little art cart.
And I'll be happy.
p.s. How do you create? I'd love to know.
Most days I describe my studio (and my life) as chaotic order … or ordered chaos. And since my experience demonstrates to me, over and over again, that change is the Nature of life, and that change is defined my perpetual creation and destruction … that change *is* chaos, I'm cool with a little "disorder." Or a lot. All depends on the day! :)
ReplyDeleteI've convinced myself the Muse loves a bit of mess to jumpstart a good creative frenzy. When I'm working on a longer project it's when I start noticing how overwhelming the mess is that I know the project is winding down. It delights me to have a tidy space, but it doesn't last very long. ;-)
ReplyDeleteYes, those longer projects can take up my whole house. :-)
DeleteWell my creative chaos is not just on my art cart or at my desk but in my head.
ReplyDeleteSo I am certainly used to a bit of jumbled mess and too many ideas, I too think the muse--my muse anyway--can handle the flying paint and the the tumbling thoughts. She prefers i that way I think.
NIce to meet you Deborah. I will come to visit again
I love that you say that being messy is your gift. That is simply beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAnything that I start creating begins with words ... whether a canvas or art journal page ... whatever, there are layers of written words underneath it. sometimes it is light and completely painted over ... sometimes there are so many layers of words that they peek out.
I get really stressed out if things get disorganized. I want to be able to reach for something and know exactly where to find it so I keep things fairly tidy, but WHILE I'm working, chaos reigns. My floor gets covered in scraps and bits of things, and my table disappears under an ever growing layer of stuff I pull out. Once I'm done for the day, it all goes back where it belongs, and I get this enormous sense of satisfaction over it.
ReplyDeleteI just ordered a rolling cart for the main floor 'painting station'. We'll see how that impacts my need for order. :D