The Muse Has No Hands

The Muse, or Inspiration, has a thousand other names I call that feeling that grips me when I can feel a new idea tickling the back of my cerebellum. (Medically, I doubt that the Muse should be tickling at the cerebellum--it's probably somewhere in the cortex probably, but this is taking-the-metaphor-too-far.)

Sometimes the Muse seems to know exactly what it wants, and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I don't think it knows how to put the feeling or picture into being. Sometimes I just second-guess it and refuse to let it do what it wants. Because, you know, the Muse has no hands.

The Muse wanted a copper bead to put into the above necklace - and these are things I made that the Muse rejected for this particular piece (mostly because the little buggers kept on taking on minds of their own and turning out quite different than I expected, but I was patient and let them do what they wanted. It's the same deal I made with my hair in high school - I let it do what it wanted, and it would in turn not look dreadful.)

This is, without question, the most frustrating part about being Intuitive (Myers-Briggs personality testing). I can only start with a vague idea of what I'm looking for (the Muse knows, but I don't), and I simply tinker and mix and discard until I end up with something that I like, regardless of how closely it resembles the foggy original picture misting through my imagination.

This is what I finally ended up with. It's very "out there," and when I finished I thought "Who's brave enough to wear this?" But the Muse insisted that I was finished, and so here it is.


And here, for no particular reason, are the posters I drew for the rooms at the CVF conference this weekend!

Natural and Rustic Show Display Ideas

I was invited to do my very first show this summer at the Columbus Avant-Garde Art & Craft Show. I’m uber excited about it, and have spent waaay too much time since then planning out my booth.

 I’m wanting to evoke a natural / rustic theme, with dark weathered wooden crates and boxes mixed with natural elements like a hulkin’ big grapewood branch, animal sculptures, and stones. 

I couldn’t resist making creatures a mini-theme, ‘cuz of the whole “vet student” thing.

I’ve been looking for day valises and small vintage suitcases to use to add height to the display, and I struck it big at a local consignment/antique shop. I found this adorable leather suitcase with two separate compartments AND this weathered white shutter that will be perfect for displaying earring cards. 

I already know that by the time the show rolls around, I will have had the opportunity to gather approximately 6 times the amount of stuff that I need to adequately display my pieces. I am steeling myself to say “NO” to the wondrous items that I know I will find, because I also know that I won’t be able to stop myself from searching, just in case the *ultimate* piece appears. 

Hee. Mebbe I could run a side business selling the extra display items that I find . . .

See? I can make things.

I've been playing with my polymer clay and leetle letter stamps. 

It started with a mammoth the Muse  demanded I make and went on from there.

 This one I drew on with a black Sharpie and then sealed with wax.

 Means, loosely translated, "Art lasts forever, life is short."

 Y'like that upside-down "e"? Yeah, I did that on purpose. Really.

 For some reason, this one is screaming, "Sexual tension." Or "Britney Spears." Yikes.

 I like this one. Looks vaguely like a continent.

Not too hokey?

After that, there were the letters.

 And the numbers.

 Alcohol inks with a sponge.

 Then reeeally fine copper wire found at a thrift store.

 And smash 'em a little with a hammer.

 That's good, clean fun for you. Actually, my fingernails are still sorta purply-red.

See? I can make stuff. Nice things! So creative. So crafty. So clever.

Rough Stuff

Rough green kyanite spikes wire wrapped in Vintaj brass wire.

 I'm at the crest of final exams, doggedly trying to prepare for next week's hellishness. And somehow, whenever I'm most set on studying and learning and "being good," that's when Inspiration turns up, smacks me on the back, and invites me to tag along. So then I feel compelled to run after Inspiration, stealing moments of frantic compiling and note-jotting, feeling vaguely guilty for every hour not spent with my nose pressed against the pages of my Musculo-Skeletal notes.

Coral, agate, opal, and rough lapis lazuli with a carved coconut flower.

I'm in a funny place, creatively. Inspiration is starting to get a foggy idea of what It likes in general, but I'm also fighting with the notion that anything I put together that isn't "unreplicatable" isn't really "art." If somebody else could waltz around, pick up all the elements that I've gathered and cobble together roughly the same creation I have--well--that makes me sort of second-rate. Doesn't it?

Brass seahorse dangle with rough apatite, horn, shell, and handmade lampwork glass.

Or is it enough that I assemble things and DESIGN them, not merely following a beading pattern and counting "One three one one five . . . " ?

Yee-ow

So this quarter of vet school has been cra-aazy so far. Every new quarter, I've heard that THIS one is the worst, and I look forward to it just so that I'll be done with it, finally. In my opinion, this one is really the hardest yet, and I've had to really scrape for time to do fun beady things.

  

I feel like I've made some sort of artistic breakthrough in the last week . . . I don't know exactly what it is, but it has to do with grabbing a bunch of reallyexcellentstuff and not being afraid to use too much goodness in one piece, and then letting the colors flitting behind my eyelids have their way with this piece and not THINKING too much. Maybe crafting more by intuition?

Also, I've been feeling a distinctive primitiveantiquedpostapocalypse vibe on and off the past couple of weeks. I have a buncha elements that I've been working with, but not much that I've been able to put together on a finished piece yet.

And, if everything works out, I'm gonna do a show or two this summer! Wheeee! I've already gotten way too excited about creating my table display. I want to create a mood, an atmosphere, not just sling a buncha pieces on a white tablecloth. There will be lots of unfinished wood and blue-green glass bottles, exotic animal sculptures and rough, natural elements.

 Preview of practice display!

Really Old Wood

My grandpa gave me this piece of really old wood that was from his barn. It was used in the 1800s to house cows and horses for a single family. This board is so old it's got worm holes in it! Yeah, that old.

 This batch of photos turned out really well. I dunno what makes the difference sometimes between a shoot from which I hate all my pictures and one that I simply can't choose just 5 to put on Etsy.

It doesn't hurt that this bracelet nearly makes me drool, with the rough rainbow amazonite stone nuggets, the handmade lampwork glass beads sandwiched between rustic horn and bone, and that darling teeny ceramic whale handformed and glazed in Peru.

Plus, there's this translucent amber fossilized guard from the guard of the tentacle of an extinct squiddy-creature called a belemnite. Yup, I capped that baby in copper, burned the heck outta it, and attached it to sterling silver and citrine, because I am just that kinda lady.

Also this bracelet for which I pulled out all the stops. Seriously. There's faceted rough prehnite gemstone, a cute magnesite peace charm, handmade lampworked glass, carved horn and bone, a handmade ceramic acorn, a brass dove, a Tim Holz word charm . . . I mean really. This puppy is packed.

And that's what I did over finals week, folks. Yes, indeed. The first quarter of my second year of vet school is officially ovar! And I passed everything. Woo woo! Now I'm going to take another nap. I've needed a lotta those since my last final exam. o_O

NaNaWriMo Excerpt

Because, as we all know, veterinary students have buckets of free time, I have decided, however rashly, to do NaNoWriMo this November. In short, I have to write up a 50,000 word novel in 30 short days.

Because the writing is very fast, with none of my fervid editing that usually accompanies each handful of sentences, this stuff is a lot rougher than my usual work. That is my disclaimer. Now, I'm going to cautiously post a chunk of my story on here. If you like it--leave me a comment! If you have any ideas for the rest of the story--leave me a comment! And if you think it's rubbish--alright, still leave me a comment, but do try to be kind. If I get a positive response from this, I'll post more. Deal?

Sasha awoke to cold tile pressed against her cheek. Opening her eyes, she saw a ceiling that stretched far above her. The walls were crowded with dark wooden bookshelves crammed with thick tomes bound in austere leather. Low tables squatted on the tile, filled with strange tools and displays that were spiked and harsh and alien. Yellow light flickered from candles set in sconces on the walls, lending extra shadow and depth to corners and angles. The floors were tiled in heavy swirled marble that eerily reflected the candlelight. Her head lay on these tiles, next to a heavy mahogany desk.

Experimentally, Sasha flexed her fingers, grateful to discover that she once again had fingers to flex. Then she remembered, the mental pictures resurfacing of the awful dark bird with the red eyes, her tiny friends turned to wax, the careless way the man had turned an entire home into ash. Her whole body shuddered, quaking with the horror of the memories.

            “Good. You’re awake,” came that cello voice, echoing hollowly.

            Sasha choked on her gasp and reacted to the overwhelming instinct to hide. She half dove, half crawled under the cavernous desk, wedging herself into the back. Knees folded and pressed to her nose, she whimpered.

            Almost curiously, the man bent at the waist to peer underneath his desk. “What a strange creature,” he remarked. “It wants to live under a desk.”

            Sasha couldn’t tell if he was making fun of her or not.

            The man pulled up a straight-backed wooden chair and sat. From her crouched position, the only part of him Sasha could see was his boots. She studied them. They seemed to be made from some type of skin – the surface was dark and pebbled. She had to resist the urge to reach out and run a finger along the toe.

            There was a thud as the man banged his hand on the surface of the desk, using it as leverage to lean his torso down and peer into Sasha’s refuge underneath the desk. The relative darkness suddenly beamed with red light.

            Sasha screamed.

            “None of that, thank you. Would you like to come out from under there?”

            The girl shook her head ‘no’ frantically.

            “Ah. You don’t need to hide. I didn’t bring you here to hurt you.”

            A beat. “What do you want?” she quavered.

            “I heard tell of your remarkable banishing of that rogue troll from your village. I’m very interested in powers such as yours.”

            There was a pause. Clearly the man expected Sasha to have a comment. When she remained silent, he sighed and continued. “I’m going to harness your energy so that I can use it.”

            Sasha’s head snapped up. For the first time, she looked at the man, her gaze shifting around his face, not wanting to focus on those strange red eyes. His skin was pale but especially thick, bunching at the corners of his mouth and eyes. His high forehead gave way to lank hair the color of a cloudy nighttime sky, combed back straight and falling down his back. He wore strange, fitted black clothes with buckles cinched across the front and a long cloak made from a fabric that wisped about him when he moved.

            “What are you?” The question slipped from her lips without thought. She flinched.

            The man giggled, a high and unsettling noise. “I’m like you. Shapeshifter, mage, one who is able to commune with the Others. I learn the rules of the cosmos and how to manipulate them to my will.”

            Sasha squeaked. ‘I’m not like you!’ her mind screamed. ‘I’m nothing like you!’

            The man seemed to read the expression on her face and grimaced a smile, folds of skin piling up by the corners of his mouth. “No? Well. Not for long.”