Has it really be over a year? Time for a few hard truths. I packed up my glass studio, intending to liquidate it all. But as I meticulously inventoried my eclectic collection, I found it impossible to let go. My compromise? Keep it all, neatly boxed up and out of sight "just in case" I want to return to it. Probably the smart thing to do would be to put a deadline on that "someday" - a point at which the "Keep or Let Go" decision must be made. I have heard that if you don't wear a particular piece of clothing for a year, you should rid yourself of the clutter. Does that hold for the minutia of a hobby? When can I say that I am no longer a glass artist?
The glass studio is only part of the neglect. I also have several small pieces of soapstone and alabaster which I purchased fully intending to transform into art pieces. Now they sit collecting dust while the rasps and files have migrated out to the garage where they are being employed in all sorts of endeavours, like fence board scraping, and paint stripping. Not the most creative uses, but at least they are in use. I bought a sledge hammer recently, and the rocks that will meet the hammer are the field stones collected for borders and that elusive water feature that I am determined to have.
The yard as become my canvas and my studio. I share my successes and failures with mother nature, and derive great pleasure from the time we share. Can I still call myself an artist? I like to think so.
The glass studio is only part of the neglect. I also have several small pieces of soapstone and alabaster which I purchased fully intending to transform into art pieces. Now they sit collecting dust while the rasps and files have migrated out to the garage where they are being employed in all sorts of endeavours, like fence board scraping, and paint stripping. Not the most creative uses, but at least they are in use. I bought a sledge hammer recently, and the rocks that will meet the hammer are the field stones collected for borders and that elusive water feature that I am determined to have.
The yard as become my canvas and my studio. I share my successes and failures with mother nature, and derive great pleasure from the time we share. Can I still call myself an artist? I like to think so.