A hot summer mess.
Something about this time of year. It must be.
The beads are drug from their compartmented boxes,
from coordination and organization,
to complete chaos and freedom all over this work table.
It's like my brain has spilt skittles.
A littering of the rainbow in briolettes, drops, squares, and rounds.
It may not LOOK like chaos,
but it sure does feel like it.
There are rogue round seed-beads on the floor of the studio,
outside in the grass,
over the door frame,
underneath my dog,
who lies in the coolest part of the floor today,
and I notice his panting is not nearly as *ahem* fragrant as it has been as of late.
It's been nearly 100 degrees here for the last two weeks, on and off,
sometimes over 100...
and I can't think.
I can't create.
I can't sleep.
I can't wake up without death-defying amounts of stove-top espresso...
and I can't seem to build much of anything but a longer list of things to build.
That and a giant pile of wet swimming suits in the bathtub.
(The lake has been truly a life-saver these past few weeks!)
I walk circles around myself in this tiny shop,
and it makes Tex (the dog) nervous.
I laugh outloud at the ridiculousness of it all.
Because there's crunching underfoot.
Pieces pushed to the floor, purposely,
detritus of leftover thoughts.
The further they are from my brain, the better.
And I could care less, really.
Not bothered at all by the crunch.
The chaos of play really is intriguing.
The shaking of ideas to the floor these past two weeks seems necessary,
almost impossible to avoid.
I'm raining the junk off the work table.
Doing myself little littering favors, really,
and the sound of crunching underfoot
is almost comforting.
Like, yep, that stuff I WAS gonna make
it didn't make the cut,
and good thing,
because I currently am WALKING on it.
I am drawn to obnoxious chartreuse and hot hot red today.
That and The Rolling Stones as loud as Tex will stay around for.
Yesterday it was dark cobalt blues and plum.
And Odesza. Loooots of Odesza.
Patterns and silvery dreams float about in my head,
and I haven't been able to get much done.
I'm all over the board, so to say.
In both the studio and in life outside R&S.
I've got 2 weeks to get my shit together, before summer really unleashes on me.
And I feel a little in denial...
Both by how quickly my busy season has come and how unprepared I feel
although I know I am only doing my best
(and yes, I googled inspirational work quotes today to get me through task-assesment and damage control during lunch from a list of custom work that seems to grow, like, overnight)
and how quickly I snap to find the frustration versus the joy
of a growing studio business smack dab in the middle of serious teenage growing pains.
I don't want to be frustrated, believe me,
I'd love to jump around in the chaos of this studio season
and holler to the top of my lungs some sort of life-affirming goal or pinterest quote
with a shit-eating grin and confetti in both hands,
screaming "I DID IT! I MUTHAFUCKIN DID IT!!!
I AM SELF-SUFFICIENT AND EMPLOYED AND WORTHY!!!
I MADE THIS BUSINESS AND IT FRIGGIN' WORKS!!!!"
I'd have confetti stuck in my teeth from all the smiling,
after I wipe champagne from my eyebrows
(because of course I sprayed myself down with champagne. like a boss.)
And for any self-employed one-woman-show art business,
I'd call the general picture a major success!
But sometimes the studio is much more like work and much less like play.
And that's not a complaint,
(there's no confetti, though, which is kind of b.s.)
it's just a reality.
I'm afraid that sometimes myself is not enough, and I toy daily with the idea of cramming another body as help and back-up when things really get hairy
in my tiny workspace.
I constantly am searching for that secret recipe of balance in the studio,
between half-crazed sweaty me,
(the confetti girl)
and sitting-down thinking-straight me.
and maybe another being too? that seems REALLY nuts.
(Then I hallucianate ideas of cloning myself,
and whether or not that's in the budget....)
and then realize I ENJOY this space. alone.
And I love my job.
And busy is good.
And dammit, I AM superhuman.
And I better snap out of this lazy and hot mess I currently am.
Because this so-called problem,
even in 100 degrees,
is pretty damn cool.
Tex and his stinky breath
slows today and even crazy me can manage his incessant panting.
He slows it to a "every once in awhile" pant and I feel relieved.
It's dropped in temperature with a little rain this morning to a very paleatable 75.
I'm in pants.
Which seems ludacris.
I feel a drop in my blood pressure and a resurgence in studio-superwoman-powers.
I can stop sweating my ass off and start thinking straight.
The restlessness of this creative time I think is about to come to an end,
and I might just actually finish something.
I should probably sweep.
But for now,
and for today,
I revel in the colors of this messy desk,
a creative flurry of shit-making,
and reconnecting back to the base of whatever it was that I was chasing.
The Muse, I think.
All over this 10x14 laminate wood floor covered in a rainbow of ideas,
some of those ideas
Shop Update for July coming up shortly. I promise.