Creative Deadlines

The response to our intention of changing the blog from the weekly posting schedule to a more random, spontaneous format is making me laugh. One person sighed with relief as she let slip, “Oh good, your entries are SO long,” while another lamented that she wanted them even longer.

So while the idea in the very near future is to have much shorter musings with a photograph or two posted every day or so, this meantime finds us in a pressure cooker. We have until Friday to come up with a concept for jurying; a theme and focus which ties our different pieces together that we will have professionally photographed and then made Zapplication ready for the purpose of applying to the 2011 Art Fairs and Festivals.

This brief timeline until Friday is not just for coming up with ideas, it is also the countdown until we have transformed these various possibilities into actual photogenic pieces of jewelry, camera ready for their close ups.

We have an appointment to send preliminary snapshots of these gestating objets d’art to a consultant on the East Coast for his judgment, hence the fierce deadline. If he gives us the green light, then the collection can be shipped to New York for their photo session.

If we are given the red light, booed off the stage so to speak, then we must go back to the drawing board. If that were to happen, you’ll probably find me drowning my sorrows in a bucket of bleach water, scrubbing the floors like Cinderella pre-ball, or Joan Crawford a la Mommy Dearest.

So cross your fingers gentle readers, that today and tomorrow (Wednesday and Thursday) bring inspiration and that time opens itself up and reveals hidden and secret caves to play in and that by Friday morning we’ll emerge victorious.

a plus tard (see ya later)

Travels at Home

I dream of travel, the pull of far away places as strong as the moon’s hypnotic power over the ocean. I crave to walk among the moors and mountains of Scotland, experience the magic of enchanted gardens in England, have a picnic near the Eiffel Tower, and roam Italy. I hanker for the electric thrum of Manhattan, a chance to take in a Broadway play, to hunt treasure in The Village and take advantage of every pixel on my camera.

When the time is right, this will happen, and I’ve discovered that one of the fastest ways to manifest a trip is to be delighted exactly where I am. This is a win/win situation. I get to explore my native surroundings, discover new places, old things and put the camera to work where ever I am, instead of living life in a holding pattern, just waiting for the occasional trip. I get to be a tourist in my own life, examining it with a fresh eye.

You’ve heard the joke, “Kiss me where it stinks,” right? Well, sometimes that’s in Albany, due to the heady aroma of the mills, but they’ve been working hard to eliminate their bad smell reputation. So it was kinda funny to see a train passing through the middle of town, the words “stinky stew” graffitied on the side of a Southern Pacific boxcar. Truth in advertising?

This town -- south of Portland, north of Eugene -- was originally named Takenah by the Penutian speaking people who lived there, which loosely translated meant “hole in the ground,” something to do with a confluence of water that cut a hole on the river bank.

The Monteith brothers (Wally and Tommy), settled Albany the white folk way in 1846 and renamed it after their hometown in New York.

In addition to Stinky Town, Albany is currently known as “the rare metals capital of the world.” We were also hoping it was the “rusty metal capital of the world,” as we took a day trip there, searching for rich and strange things to transform into delightfully odd pieces of jewelry.

Instead of heading up I-5, we ambled the old Highway, stopping in Halsey to take photos and investigate antique stores. Again, we have paired Groom’s photos with mine. You can see our minds resemble each other, but have still retained our own unique perspective.

 If you want to enlarge the photos for detail, simply click on the image and then hit the back arrow to return to the blog. If you do that, you can see that “red” must have been the theme of the day, as in Red’s Barbershop and Antique Store, and big red Boda furniture.

With mixed feelings, we discovered a fun store in Albany called Opulence Eye Candy Antiques. I say mixed feelings because the place was so cool, yet it’s going out of business. So while the prices were definitely right and we found some treasure (like this sparkly retro hat), I’m sad to see such a beautiful place fade away.

Ha! I’m not the only one who enjoys donning a chapeau. Lookee Groom trying on one of Lil Bo Peep’s top hats. But I digress…

Walking through downtown, we had fun noticing the historic touches, harkening to days of yore when ornate buildings, curvy windows (and top hats) were a la mode.

Many hours later, we drove home through tulip fields, well, not through them, like some dinkwad did through Monroe Park this weekend, but past tulip fields, stopping to document les fleurs.

Back in Eugene, we spent the majority of our week’s energy creating jewelry and preparing for the Saturday Market. You can see the crowd of non-reserve vendors huddled around the information booth, counting points, hoping to get a spot. Thankfully, with gratitude in our hearts, we do have a reserve space, the same 8’ X 8’ square of prime real estate we’ve paid rent on for upwards of 19 years.

Two young University students stopped by the booth and interviewed me for a school project. During the Q & A phase, they asked me if I’ve ever considered moving to a different town and trying a different Market, and I answered, “Yes, I’ve thought about it, but I’m feeling loyal, this is home.”

I am happy to report that our new style of jewelry has opened to good reviews by Grant & Franklin, the maestro’s of green. Here are a few examples of what we are doing with our recently acquired metalsmithing tools.

I’ve got butterflies and fairies in my stomach, I’m so excited. For years, customers have been requesting necklaces and I’ve wanted to design them, but I’ve held myself back by the idea of matchy-matchy.

Clarification, what does that mean? Confession: I didn’t want to sit at the beading table, counting a precise number of beads and stringing them on equal sides around a square, resin-coated stamp. There, I said it.

However, in the last week or so, the Muse has finally given me her blessing and understanding that I do not have to make necklaces in that style, but can design them asymmetrically and fabricate any number of creative components for the lace around the neck, not just beads. This simple tweak on my outlook has opened a new portal and I am levitating with inspiration as I walk through it.

I could spend all day here at the computer, clacking away on the keyboard, but my hands are itching to get back to the studio and create, so for now I’ll say Ciao.

MONKEY MIND

Last Wednesday I wrote about “imposed healing.” Ha, the joke’s on me, because by Thursday morning, my imposed healing had begun. Apparently writing about it invited it in. Well ain’t that a barrel of stinky monkeys.

I woke up refreshed, ready to greet the day and made mistake number one. I opened my email (insert ominous music here). There, fresh as a steaming pile, was an email from a friend that not only threw a monkey wrench into my day, but sent my head spinning as well. The email came out of the blue, left field, or wherever surprising events originate.

I called another friend, not to discuss the contents of the note, but to hear her voice. She teases that her relationship to me is a “minion of God.” But it’s true! Many times in our past, she has delivered powerful information like a lightning bolt straight to the heart of things. Born in the South, she has a wonderful speaking voice and an infectious laugh. No surprise she’s a singer.

She is gifted with the ability to convey the truth with a powerful zing and then just laugh. Needing a shot of her medicine voice, I called up God’s minion. In fact, that’s how I started the conversation. “Hello? Is this God’s little minion?”

She laughed her morning, smoker’s laugh and it sounded as if she’d been asleep? “No, but I’m still in bed, loving my mattress.” Her brand new, luxurious mattress is another story, but it’s safe to say, anybody who’s talked with her recently knows about her fabulous new mattress.

We chatted a few moments and then I confessed that while things in general were going really well, a little poop storm was brewing that I hadn’t seen coming. Now here’s the deal between the two of us, we’ve agreed not to discuss petty details with each other because we’re familiar with the Law of Attraction. In fact, she’s the one who introduced me to the idea in 2005.

I had just returned from New York and we were at her house, let’s say drinking tea, and I was telling her all the ups and downs of the trip, including details about my traveling companions. Instead of reveling in the nasty undertones and gossipy tidbits, she blindsided me with her new philosophy.

“I know why all that happened,” she said.

“You do?” I was all ears. How on earth did she know (sitting in her leather armchair throne in Oregon) what my New York trip was all about?

The minion of God spoke. “It’s because of your point of attraction.”

“My what?” I was trying to play it cool. I’d just been in Manhattan after all, playing with the big girls and boys.

“Everything that happened to you occurred because of your point of attraction, your current vibratory set point.”

She might has well have been speaking high falutin’ gibberish because even though her mouth was moving and sounds were coming out, the words made no sense. Perhaps it was the drool caking in the corner of my mouth or the glazed look in my eyes, but she shifted tactics.

“You do know that everything in this Universe is made up of energy, right? Everything that appears solid is really a dance of vibrating atoms?”

Recalling high school physics, I nodded my head. She continued, “Your thoughts and emotions are no different. Because they vibrate at certain frequencies, the Law of Attraction (like attracts like) is the force behind the join-up.

“The join-up?” I repeat things.

“This phenomenon brings energies together that are in sympathetic vibration to each other. Haven’t you noticed that when you’re in a really bad mood additional frustrating events seem to occur? Or let’s say you’re having an excellent day and doesn’t the whole world seem to smile in your favor? So your point of attraction is your vibrational offering. If you’re angry or insecure, that’s what you are putting out into the world and then other people who are feeling angry or insecure will be a perfect match to you in that moment.”

I quickly flashed on the events and people in New York and saw the truth in what she was telling me. In that moment, instead of feeling like a victim of random people and seemingly unrelated events, I saw how my thoughts precipitated my emotions and how my energy went ahead of me, creating my day-to-day life.

My day-to-day life was about to change. The mental shift that had just taken place jump- started a hunger to learn more, and God’s minion loaded me up with all kinds of listening and reading material. The first suggestion was to stop jabbering to everyone about everything.

“Cold turkey?” I asked, a little bit afraid. She assured me that every time I opened my mouth to complain, I was simply asking the Universe to give me more to complain about. That sounded unpleasant.

I quickly learned how difficult it was to break the addiction of whining and sharing woes. I could rein it in, but the reaction from others was unexpected and disappointing. Turns out expressing dissatisfaction is a currency. Humans love drama and when I stopped using it as a medium of exchange, can you guess what happened? I was no longer in the thick of things, the one to call.

When I asked, “How’s it going?” I heard an enthusiastic recital of complaints. When I altered the question to, “What’s the best thing about your week?” I received a litany of silence. Talking about what is good was not on the forefront of many people’s minds and it equaled boredom.

I persevered anyway and was amazed at the improvement to every area of my life including relationships and finance. Encouraging, what? I practiced that for three years until I was ready to stop complaining to even my closest friends (mostly). I indulged in this new habit for a year, which brings us full circle to my imposed healing last Thursday. Remember the distressing email from a friend?

With God’s minion supine on her legendary mattress, I whined to her that I hadn’t been whining, so where did this poop storm originate? And this is where it gets good. She told me that while I had stopped complaining in general, I had not stopped telling the stories to myself.

“When you stop the drama in your head, then you’re home free.”

All at once, I could see it. What a relief to have this mysterious process reduced to an identifiable journey. While I may have been putting a smiley face Band-Aid on things, I had not yet truly broken my addiction to complaining. Even if I had reduced the impulse, I was manufacturing drama in the head, which in turn, still created a vibrational offering to the world. I now recognized where the poop storm originated.

It was not out of the blue or from left field.

It was from me.