There is nothing better for a case of the Monday's than a smile. And what is better than cute and fuzzy animals??
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
There has been a lot of uproar in the handmade community as of recent about certain companies posing as handmade artists. These include resellers, distributors and the like. They basically claim to handmake their items when in fact some are bought fully assembled and sold while others are akin to sweatshops selling their wares for cheap. While technically these are handmade in some cases by someone this does not constitute handmade. So sometimes the question arises "how do I know this is really handmade?". Well I certainly cannot speak for all artists but today I will give you a peek into my world. While I would love to show you a spotless well organized workshop that is the ugly truth behind handmade. In my world it doesn't exist. It starts out that way but then as soon as creating begins it's like a bomb went off. I carefully clean everything up once I'm done only for it to happen all over again. OK maybe I don't clean everything up every time. Hey I'm not perfect and frequently I'm too tired and sore to do so. The strange thing is I think it is something about an artists mind that their workspace will look like a mine field yet they cannot stop until a piece is perfect. I've been known to do a piece over and over again until it's just right. And sometimes people will think "how do you work like that?" The answer is I don't know because the disorganization drives me INSANE!
Here is my shipping scale and there are a bunch of packing supplies and more work supply under the cabinets.
Some sea glass complete with dirt and sand.
Where the magic happens covered in tools, wire, findings, and such. Note the extra large bottle of tylenol I have to take daily for pain.
And yet more supplies!
I would like to say that's the end of it but yet there is still more, but that's the jist of it. So many artists minds are cluttered with ideas which also seems to clutter their work space. In the end I achieve professional results with professional packaging and a smile. I just need someone to clean up this mess I leave behind!
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Today I worked on doing eyes and I found I could not stop. I even made a friend of mine skinny, but I think she wants to keep that photo private. ;) I went a little overboard but here are some of the photos.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
I am trying to teach myself the art of photo manipulation. Vintage, dreamy looking photographs are all the rage right now. Think instagram. However if you start from scratch there is much more to creating these types of photos. Here are some I have created so far via trial and error.
Someday I want to live by the ocean. Someday being as soon as possible. I was born in Newport, RI. You don't realize how lucky you are to grow up in a place like that until you start to travel. It's all you know and then you begin to travel and realize how fortunate you were. I once remember a very rich man telling me he had traveled the world over many times and Newport remained one of the most beautiful towns he had ever visited. This morning I saw it listed on one of the prettiest towns in America on MSN. Sadly I couldn't afford to stay. While I do love to visit I don't miss the tourists jam packed into a town the size of a sardine tin. I don't miss the cliquishness or the dis ingenuousness of many of the people I encountered. I never fit in there. But the ocean is in my soul. When I return I walk the beaches daily, alone. As if my soul is searching for something.
I would love to live in a seaside town that is less "discovered". A place that is friendly, and alternative. Does such a place exist? I would love to have a cottage by the sea, with my own private beach to gather sea glass. To be able to sip my morning coffee and look out at the sea. A small cove would be perfect. Just enough so that I am protected by storms but enough so I can watch the ocean rage. One that would drop thousands of beautiful sea glass gems at my feet. A place where I can watch the sand pipers scuttle back and forth.