Now that the new year is settling down, I've noticed something: my creative practice has become constricted. I'm not making as broadly as I like.
When I'm working freely, I make very different types of projects in wildly different materials – paper mache, paper crafts, textiles and yarn, even household and DIY projects. I might make a doll. I might make a doll's head. I might make a mobile. I might make a mobile out of doll heads (which actually sounds super fun).
My creative spirit wants to MAKE STUFF. Weird stuff. Fun stuff. Tactile, dimensional, playful stuff.
This is Lurk, that's his job. He lurks, he also wears a tiara because he likes to look pretty...
Go On - Raid the Recycle Bin
Which brings me to the point: art isn't just one acceptable medium or mode of expression. It can, and should, be all the creative things in our lives. It's our very nature to create as creative beings.
So if you've been eyeing that cardboard in the recycle bin (I know I have!), just take it out and make something with it. You don't need anyone's permission to create what makes you happy. The simple joy of making is enough. YOU are enough.
Walk With Me in Wild Creation
I make all kinds of things – LOTS of things, actually – and I share them with members in Walk With Me. Not just the "finished" work, but the things I'm playing around with for pure joy. The experiments that don't become anything more than what they are. The things that go right back into the recycle bin. The raw materials that a creative life is built from.
Speaking of making things: the Amber Haze Scarf Collection releases soon. Members see it first, and then it's only available for a limited time before I move on to the next seasonal experiment.
Amber Haze - “Flare”
What weird thing are you itching to make right now? Reply and tell me – I genuinely want to know.
Shine On!
Monette
PS – I'm completely serious about the doll head mobile. If I make one, members will definitely see the process.
PPS – There's a small flock of crows (looks like a family group) that's claimed the field and trees behind my studio. They gather at the bird feeder sometimes, call to each other from the trees, and I swear they're having full conversations I'm not privy to. Possibly about creative sovereignty. Possibly about the pair of hawks they're keeping tabs on. Either way, I appreciate their wild intelligence and the way they move through this place like they own it. Because they do.