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!