Being a creative person, I’ve struggled for all my life to find an outlet. Writing has always been on the fore front of my initiatives. Though people outside my blog circle have a hard time understanding that writing is creatively fulfilling. For a long time I tried to compensate by forcing creative energies into visual and physical payoffs. Throughout my flailing attempts I grabbed at jewellery, card making, smelting and so many other pseudo-artistic inspirations, never truly excelling at any. I’ve invested in supplies. Boy oh boy, did I invest in supplies. Having an addictive personality, I may have gone overboard, growing my craft drawer into a craft closet. Hubby isn’t a fan of my piles to begin with and the craft drawer is his high on his list of concerns. For good reason.
The craft drawer started about 8 years ago. Then grew and grew and grew. Like the Monster Cheese consuming every crafty item in it’s path. The crafting juggernaut barrelling forward with the full steam of a DIY day dream, quickly turning into a nightmare. Over the course of my crafting career I have made, sold and bought so many different mediums that even my Momma has trouble explaining my niche. Trying glass fusion in my microwave, I have scorched myself. Banging out silver wrapped wire earrings and bracelets, I have hammered my thumb. Beading needles have punctured my fingers. And don’t even get me started with the paper cuts that come with card making. They say variety is the spice of life, but too much flavour makes it hard to get to the meat of creating.
Artistic endeavours take focus, effort and stick-to-it-iveness. If you don’t love it, I mean really love it, that art becomes too difficult and the benefits too few. Quickly I found myself loosing interest. There is nothing concrete about art. Proving artistic ability is impossible, just ask Andy Warhol. My craft drawer has taken over a closet and that’s a disaster. An all consuming unnatural disaster. Especially since my teeny TO condo, only has 2 closets anyway. Hubby won’t even open the door, but I could tell from his tone that: “You really need to take care of that.” was not a good thing. Although I may be perceived as a quitter from the tangible arts; the realization that I have made myself proud has become enough. There is nothing for me to prove. When I had a couple days off I decided to rip that closet a new one. Tearing out everything that was not nailed down, strung together or glued onto something else. Loving and releasing supplies I was no longer attached to, keeping parts that still filled me with inspiration. I was ruthless. Making the decision to donate most of my “I’m never gonna use that.” supplies and selling those “I spent way too much money on this to give it away.” items. Do you think I could give it away? Nope. Turns out I am the only person in my whole world who was making handi-crafts for the sake of proving to people I was artistic. Aww geez, what a try hard lame-o.*insert rueful head-shake. But in other news if you need beads, findings, an embosser, teeny anvil, silver wire, high grade paper, soldering knife, 47 types of glue, chains or dye cutters, I know a gal who’ll sell for cheap!