I found more than I bargained for - old chocolate. Thinking the journal may have been tucked under a cushion of one of the sofas (having been last spotted in the living room), I lifted the cushions, knowing I'd be sure to find something scary along with the usual treasure of coins and maybe a pen or pencil. What I found were two full-sized candy bars in one sofa, along with a few other remnants of Halloween. Now I'm trying to figure out how someone unwittingly managed to get TWO big, fat candy bars under a couch cushion without realizing it, or what goober thought this would be a nifty hiding place and just forgot to retrieve their loot. When I picked up my son from high school today and told him about the gruesome discovery, he lit up like a Christmas tree and asked with great excitement in his voice, if I had brought them with me. Seriously? Did I bring the butt-imprinted, likely months-old candy bars in the car on a hot day to offer as a snack? What's more gross? Finding logs of candy in the furniture, or having someone eagerly anticipate the snack? As predicted, my son made a beeline for the candy when we got home and (gag) ate one of the bars. Now I'm just curious. Will my 26 year old daughter, the world's #1 chocolate addict, lunge for the other candy bar? Now it's just a freakish experiment in bizarre human behavior and addiction.
Anyway, I looked absolutely everywhere for the journal for hours. The house is ridiculously clean, but there was no journal. As I was about to throw in the towel (followed by a fit of frustration), I found it! One last look inside the books that had recently been moved to the studio revealed the journal tucked in for safekeeping, I assume. Whew! Now I can get to work and finish the pages before I ship it off to my sister for the final step in our swap.
The figurative project I'm working on continues to make me think harder than I want to think. After working on it for a while and then setting it aside, I really took a long and hard look to see if I could figure out what was making me most nuts about it. Primarily, it looked too much like a shepherd with the ever-so-wrong fiber mixed in with the wire. After plucking out all of the fiber, I knew I had a lot more wire to add to fill the empty space. I have no finished look in mind. I just know I don't like what I see and start changing it. Several hours, a few coats of paint, several feet of copper wire and some faux-gold leaf later, I was a bit more satisfied. I worked without thinking much, just letting it happen. My husband was happy to hear that I'd spent such a good chunk of time in the studio and I was eager to show him the product of the hours committed to trying to improve the piece.
This was Plan A in progress. The stand and dowel are simply "holders" while I work, not intended to be part of the finished project. |
The first words out of his mouth were, "Oooh! Mardi Gras!" Sigh. This was not what I expected. As I look at it, I understand his comment. Now what? It's NOT supposed to look like anything mardi gras. Here's the before and after. It's time to move to Plan C.
While I allow myself to get frustrated at times and critique more than create, it really felt good to just make something. Rereading the quote I posted recently, I am reminded that I'm not at this to create a masterpiece. I'm creating for the joy of creating, learning as I go (things like don't have the big garage door open while working with leafing foil, especially if it's windy) and trying new techniques. I won't get any better if I don't try and try again. Regardless of the finished product, getting my hands dirty and playing again matter more than whether or not I need to move on to Plan C or D or even W. I have succeeded just a bit in quieting my inner critic. She's whispering as opposed to yelling. I'll take what I can get.