i've been writing this blog for over six years. six years! it's hard for me to believe. i've openly shared with readers my ups and downs, my artwork, my raging insecurities, my love of nature, my love of friends and family, and with all of that i share countless images that take me a great amount of time to post. when i take a photograph - and i often take many photographs of one thing to reach the final "one" that i like - there is a process that consumes hours of my time. the same goes for listing a piece of jewelry: i struggle to take photos from a variety of angles, making sure to catch the light in a gemstone, an angle of a charm and how it dangles, the detail on a part that rests alongside the neck, the length of a piece and where it falls when worn, the color of ribbon, the mood and emotions that are so deeply woven and ensconced into each and every design. after i've taken 20-30 photographs of one single piece, the editing begins. this takes hours - literally, hours - of sitting here at the laptop and bumping up or down the lighting, changing and cropping the size of the photo, the contrast. sometimes one tiny part of a necklace will be out of focus, and i sit and very finely focus on just that one small bit, making sure a word is popping out into view and catching one's attention. sometimes there are flecks of dust, or an errant walter hair, that must be removed. often lighting is horrid, as is the case throughout winter; i hurry to snap photos early in the morning before the winter sun sweeps straight into the window and spills across the desk, where it resides in stripes until the end of the short day, when it sinks without fanfare behind the western mountains. if i'm trying to take any sort of jewelry or art photograph between sunrise and sunset, it is a matter of finding a spot where the sun is not direct (too harsh), yet where the light is bright enough to capture details without the image being blurred from too long an exposure. yes, i have a light box. yes, i hate the thing. photographs of jewelry taken inside that box seem sterile and void of any emotion; too, i gave my tripod to my son robin because i never ever used it - until one desperate, dark afternoon when i realized i could use that box but needed the tripod i had given away. life is so much like that for me: i realize all too often, after purging and sending the bulk of things i'd not used in years, that there are times quite a few of those things pop into my head as something i'd like to once again incorporate into my art, into my life. gone. the antique measuring tape (which never ever surfaced, thank you very much says the dog with the bone), a canvas painting, some length of trim... for those things, i must learn to just let go. but, for this - for the blog that takes so much of my time to write, to share? what to do? i spend hours and hours and hours writing and editing and uploading photographs, most times an entire morning and part of an afternoon. five hours is not unusual. and all of this, for readers, absolutely free. i pay $150.00 for a years' worth of membership to typepad (double what i used to pay, two years ago, for the very same service. go figure) because i like the little extra ability to tweak the design of my blog. why? i like to share my world with all of you. i like to show what makes my heart ache with beauty, what excites me about creativity, what it feels like to be sad or elated, confused and angry or unabashedly joyful and all things in between. i like, just as much, to hear back from the world that sits on the other side of this computer screen; i like to hear and receive feedback, i like to know there are those out there who get what i have to say, who appreciate it with depth and with truth and with deepest gratitude. (i even like to know if and when you don't, as hard as it may be to read those words). i don't get paid one dime to spend the time that i do on this blog. no one forces me to sit here and write my heart away, and i'll be the first to admit that i ask for the loss of creative time away from the studio when i spend it sitting here writing and pecking away at this plastic keyboard. peck, peck, peck. delete, delete, tweak, upload, hit the post button and poof, there is my open heart in lights right there on any screen in the world that wants to find its way into this tiny world of little old nina bagley.
whew.
rant. this is, i am beginning to see, a rant. i don't mean it to be, but i swear i don't feel like reading back over anything i've written, because it will once again be delete delete delete then a huge regret for hitting that "post" button in the end. for sending my emotions out there for all to see. i've gotten myself in trouble a couple of times that i can remember, and the backlash was horrid, acidic, and lasted quite a while. i've learned not to mention politics here, or the particular brand or strength of my religious beliefs; i've learned not to mention conflict in the jewelry designing world (as micro small as this world happens to be, so small. a little pond out in the middle of a vast rolling meadow as seen from out of space, that small), i've mostly learned to keep my mouth shut about anything other than my own emotions that involve no one else, about anything that creates any conflict at all. i've tried to continue to share with you what makes me feel good about what i do - the design part of it, the inspiration behind a piece, the excitement about being "on a roll" with a new line of things, a new look. i've tried to maintain a freshness here, although to me it often seems and feels as if what i'm doing is the same old thing, the same old words, the same old jewelry photographs over and over again. a leaf with a beaded pattern of rain across its veiny surface. a rock that is in the shape of a heart. my open palm, holding something, anything. my feeling of isolation, my gratitude for a quiet life. the conflict that arises within that one sentence alone. the trials and tribulations of owning a very spirited dog named walter (who challenges me every single day, who summons just as much love throughout every hour of every passing day). the devastation of loss, of grief. the dealing with that. the forced, raw growth that comes from it. the mixed package of being a single woman at the ripe age of 55 who lives out in the middle of no freaking where. the parts where i tire of being the only one to walk up and down the stairs with that overloaded laundry basket (where is my laundry fairy when i need her?), to cook the dinners that i consume, to straighten the house. the only one to walk up and down stairs loading the luggage into the car. cleaning up the glass alone when burglary strikes. the only one to pay the ever looming bills. to bring in the money that pays all of those bills. the only one to sit at this desk and bang away at the laptop keys as if it is a wise thing to do with my life, sitting here venting to the world. when i take a bit of time and back away, whether it is to focus on much needed work that will bring in the necessary income to pay the rent, to pay the lingering dental bills, or whether it is because i simply want to spare you the numbness that comes from reading the same old watered down thing, it is a choice that i make to step away and not post for a few days, a couple of weeks. and, inevitably, i begin to receive comments and emails asking where i am, asking what might be going on. sometimes i wonder if the thoughts that i'm thinking as i walk along the river are thoughts that i am thinking directly for the ones who read this blog, rather than for myself.
i've just in the last couple of days begun reading the journals of a much-loved writer/actor/artist named spalding gray who tragically passed away back in 2004 (sadly, he took his own life - in true spalding form, a dramatic death that involved jumping off a staten island ferry into freezing winter nyc harbor waters. i'm still not done with my grieving over that one). i had followed his work as quite the ardent fan; the films of his monologues Monster in a Box and Swimming to Cambodia were brilliant things that i owned in vhs form and watched over and over and over again. i once even paid dearly for and owned a signed copy of one of his books that sadly went the way of broken relationships. when visiting my favorite bookstore in all the world a few weeks back, i discovered that a copy of his journals is now out in beautiful hardback form, and snatched it up. my winter reading is now fits and starts of spalding, who bares his confused and conflicted artist soul across his journal pages. a lot of what he has said thus far rings so very true for me, in regards to posting a blog, in regards to much of how i feel; "accept yourself and move toward what you want to do. there is nothing else in the world but this", says he, and i stop in my reading tracks and say hmm... then i read a little more. this is one of those books in which i find myself removing the cover so that it will not get any more creased than it was the day i brought it home, clutched to my chest, from the store. "How forced i still am. my whole mind is a running commentary on all that i do. i can't turn off the comments... walking through central park the wind... the not too cold wind and the distinct shadows remind me of early spring, late winter (where the season is just ready to give itself over) i feel the wind in my face and i think i'll cry and i do and see...am aware of the way in which the first tear out of my left eye has caught and rainbowed the reflections of the afternoon sun". see what i mean?
anyway.
back to writing a blog. back to sharing my photographs, my writing, my artwork, my world. it hurts a little, stupidly so, when i spend a lot of time writing one of my posts and then receive comments from readers who surface from silence to ask what camera app i'm using. some of you have been reading this thing since its inception back in december of 2005; some of you i never hear from, but i know that you are there, reading in silence, from the corners, from the shadows. i have one reader who posts a comment every single time i post - lovely words of encouragement and appreciation. even though she is a friend (thanks, in large parts, to our frequent pen pal communication), and we are often in touch outside of this blog, she continues to post comments because she is that sort of person - thoughtful, heartfelt, giving, real. she doesn't write to ask about a technique. she writes, unselfishly, to offer support and to let me know that she is there. i'm always so grateful, for that.
there are times, like this morning, when i question the time that i invest in ornamental. time spent writing and publishing these words could be time spent writing privately in a journal, or writing words for that book which refuses to surface... simply because by the time i'm done here, it is time to move on to the studio to make jewelry to sell. after my morning walk (which i've skipped today), after writing a post, after working on photographs - whether for income or for here or for my own - there seems little time to devote to writing words for a book, when i don't know what to share, to write, to say. i try to imagine my having something to offer in book form that hasn't been said before. i try to do that here, as well, even when i meet myself coming again back 'round a bend in this road. i like for my look to remain my own, for my writing style to remain mine as well. yes, my work resembles what is out there, so much of it now. yes, the photographs resemble one another, from each one to the next. but they are mine. i snap the photos, i use the apps, i transfer the photos to my laptop so that i can edit them further in photoshop. i could tell you which apps i use - but after thinking about it, i grew perturbed that the prevailing gist of yesterday's comments towards the end were not about the writing or the content of the photos, but about which apps i use. i realize i set myself up for this by posting what i did yesterday, by showing the original photographs then showing what i had done with them. initially, in the evening as i cooked dinner, i wrote a couple of folks back to explain my process - but upon waking up this morning and sitting back from myself to observe my emotions, i realize it is something i really don't want to share. does this mean i stop sharing the actual photographs here? does it mean i don't post them at all? i am quite the visual person, though, and the photographs serve as triggers and prompts for the very words that i write. that's my process, here: i capture an image, and tweak it a bit, then i write. i post another photograph, write a little more. and i think this is an approach, i know it is, that i use with my jewelry and art book work as well: a component rests on my studio table, or is tucked away inside a little drawer. i see it, i run across it while searching for something altogether different, and an idea is born. i work with some gemstones that convey that emotion for me - a drop of rain represented by a crystal drop, a rainy day doldrum revealed in a remnant of silvery dark grey velvet. a bundled bit of wrapped fabric and wire, and some stitches of embroidery thread convey time, and a very direct connection from the artist to her work: taking the time to hand sew a few running stitches, or x's, into my pieces speaks volumes for the way i want my artwork to speak for itself. there may be beads hidden on the flip side of ribbon, there are usually words on the back sides of pieces that will be seen only by the one who wears the work of art. the words grow warm when worn next to the skin, and then become a part of that person who wears my ornaments. i want my work to be the consummate expression of what and who i am, of how i reach out to the rest of the world. and i do that with this blog, as well. if i want to share with you what beads i've used, where i've found them, i'll tell you when i write about a piece. if i want to pass along to you the apps i use for certain photographs, i'll tell you that, when the post is written. if not, i guess it means i really don't feel like sharing that information, if i've not initially said it right up front. i can't really say that the apps are the end-all results of what i show here, anyway; i take one app, play with it, then layer it with another, then carry that image over to my laptop where i bump up or down the lighting, the focus, the glow, the dirt and dust and specks. it is a sometimes tedious process, but one that i relish, and it is one that i've mostly taught to myself, and a look that i'd rather not send on down the assembly line. selfish, yes. arrogant,perhaps. but i'm being honest here, and for that i'll suffer, of this i am very sure. it's happened before. it'll happen again, if and when i publically air a stance i take, an opinion i hold.
i just want to remain true to myself, apart from whatever else i see out there, without being watered down by reflections of the artist and the person that i strive, on a moment-to-moment basis, to be. this online world makes it oh so easy to have a "look" that then becomes a look for the next person, and the next; and then that person somewhere down the road claims a look as his or hers, calls a technique his or her own, proceeds to teach the class, writes the book, sell the work that he or she sends out into the world. it all becomes homogenized - the art, the jewelry, the books, the work. the apps, in particular, are certainly not mine to claim; i am not the one who developed them, who programmed them for anyone to purchase and use. whatever i choose to do with them, the look that i strive to collectively and ultimately achieve, i hope will blend into a look that is still recognizable as - well, as my own.
all of this makes me sad to write. i've spent another morning trying to express myself, my dilemmas, my concerns, and can only imagine the repercussions, the ripples in the surface, that these words will invoke. i don't do this very often - not anymore. the price is too high. apparently, i've earned a reputation in this particular art community as someone who speaks her mind at all costs. i do try to remain open, though, and true. it is not always an easy thing to do, when contemplating how much more pleasant things would be if i would just keep my irksome feelings to myself.
when i send these words - polite words, but firm - out into the vapor that exists beyond the windows that face the quiet wooded hills before me, i have to be willing to face the consequences of an inevitable reaction. there will be words, and those words - the reactions - are far better than the silence that is so often what hovers, like wet wool or cotton.
sigh. at least i will know i've been heard.
So here I am, one of the lurkers obviously because it is days after this post and I am just now reading it. and I am so sorry that I don't always comment when I do stop by. Like others have said sometimes others have said what we thought and so much more beautifully than we think we can. But that's not a very good excuse is it? If you put the time in to create this amazing piece of art you so willingly and honestly share with us, the least we can do is take a few seconds to comment. There is definitely a "rudeness" in society these days both on and off the web and a reluctance in people to take responsibility for their hurtful actions no matter how big or small. You have nudged me awake and reminded me that small actions can make a big difference and that all anybody really wants is to be accepted and appreciated for who they are-not for what someone else expects them to be. Mea Culpa Nina and thankyou for your honest and courageous words.
Posted by: Carol Weiler | February 01, 2012 at 03:48 PM
Nina, I too don't remember how I found your blog, but I am a kinda silent reader. I've commented a few times but just enjoy your blog. You write so beautifully from the heart that I think if you would copy these pages of your blog they would make an awesome journal or book...although being in your own handwriting would only make it all the more special. I love your art and pictures. They are well worth the time you are putting into them for me! I appreciate them. I'm inspired by them and your writings....I wish I could write so beautifully. I don't care how they got there or which app you used because I probably don't have it or don't have the time to self teach myself. Know your work is yours and your blog is yours. Those who wish not to visit any longer I say GOOD BYE..less drama and pleasing others. Your blog is awesome - true to you - don't change a thing.
Thanks for being you. Bev
Posted by: bev b | February 02, 2012 at 12:09 AM
For years I have said "if you don't like it, change the channel". Your blog, your life. You are generous in sharing it. I never get the feeling that you expect anything from people. I wish some would get over themselves. The rest of us simply admire. I respect your right to be true to yourself.
Posted by: Heather | February 02, 2012 at 02:16 AM
New here.. Luv this post me think just keep on keepin on! For me if I spend too much time in my head it's like hanging w my dysfunctional Fam! I meditate more & then I'm dropped back into my heart space!
Shanti
Posted by: Shanti Johnson | February 03, 2012 at 05:37 PM
Recently I have been chastised by someone very close to me that I told too much of myself, that I spent too much time online, and that I should delete this and delete that -- and because I cared about her as a sister, I did. And it didn't make a bit of difference to how she felt about me.
Now I regret that. I've been called out before, but most people who read the "raw" posts of mine say that's what keeps the coming back. My opinion, for what it's worth, is if someone can't take what you write, then they should move on.
It's horribly difficult to forget the minor disparaging and often downright rude (and anonymous, usually) comments, but the massive good you do, especially for YOURSELF, is worth it all.
Posted by: Lori Anderson | April 09, 2012 at 04:26 PM
Dearest Nina,finding you just a few months ago, I was immediately drawn in by your exquisite way of sharing yourself through your remarkable artistry and insight. You follow a spiritual path, which is never easy, but so beautifully rewarding. Your visions, creations, and words bring those of us who love you away from the chaos that surrounds us, and soothes us in that tangible quietude that you write about and share in your beautiful photographs. I suppose that many of us are unaware of how many others we inspire, because we may not be openly rewarded with praise and/or gratitude. Your spirit has chosen to be Gaia's High Priestess, and so you walk in nature's solitude with the heartbeat pulse of Earth, emerging from your hermitage to share the sacred that has touched you. Thank you for your sacrifices and your honesty. Thank you for showing the rest of us that there is still beauty that exists and how we may find it too. Blessed be...
Posted by: Mardi | May 06, 2012 at 08:11 AM