process of inspiration

  a few weeks ago, i received an email from one of my regular readers - with some thought provoking questions that have led, ultimately, to this post.  in the letter, she said "You don't have to answer this if you don't have time.  I'll wait patiently for you.  I have tried making things.   And for some reason they don't look right to me.  I'm not sure what that is about.  So, this is what I want to know:  Is there any part of the process I should plan, like colors and choice of items?  Or is it better to go with the flow--just pick up things that move me and figure how to incorporate?  Can you tell me what you would do if you were just beginning to create? I don't want to copy others. I want to find my own style.  Thank you."  i pondered for a while - wrote back an abbreviated response - which wasn't nearly enough of an explanation of how i operate, when making art.  last week the weather, i think i said, was off and on - very blustery with fits of rain, then sun, then rain again.  cold, warm, windy, warm, cold.  rain.  lots of rain.  a little snow, in the night.  a friend brought back some lovely acrylic leaf branches for me from her trip to lake tahoe, and i walked outside the next morning to snap a photograph of the light shining through both clouds and leaves, while wind blew and temperatures plummeted from warm to a chill that soaked to the bone.  i played with the image, as i can't help from doing these days, and loved the look the photograph conveyed.  it captured, i think, the late winter's indecision of which way to go.  of waiting.  of searching for sunny spots in the house where i could sit.  of watching clouds roll up and over the mountain across the way.  over this past weekend, on a quiet saturday afternoon, i looked at the photographs you see above, and walked into the studio to begin pulling out stones that might suggest a feeling of blue sky, that might suggest emotional responses that blue sky might bring:  hope.  peace.  calm.  security.  i have a basket of antique lace that i keep at hand right there in the studio, within grabbing reach when i am in the throes of creating jewelry or book work.  the basket is one of those creaky little straw and silk hinged lid things from long ago - small in size, octagonally shaped, well loved and worn, found in a wonderful antique shop somewhere in a rural community of wisconsin a few years ago.  the basket itself brings back a lot of pleasant memories; the lace, gathered for the past thirty years, has been added to with gifts from friends and makes me feel good just seeing the various textures of handmade trimmings all mixed together, like an old fashioned cotton and silk and linen stew.
 what you see there, something i'm trying NOT to do these days, is bits of findings and already-wired beads and buttons from two separate pieces of jewelry, two completely different projects that are not completed.  this is where i get myself into trouble - when i don't put things back at day's end that i did not use, when i don't clear the table so that i can have a fresh start the next morning.  (i'm making a mental note to walk in there when i'm done here and clear the little disorder that has begun to clutter the table.  small steps - but important ones, to me).  this time, though, i've enjoyed having the lace and ribbon left out, to perhaps carry from one project to the next; the lace reminds me of clouds, of course, even though i will not likely use it for the blustery blue sky piece that will be coming together this week.  at any rate, i thought of the photograph, with its one bit of blue sky showing from underneath all those rolling, grey and white clouds, and began pulling out the beads i thought would work for what i want to do.  african opals have a sweet, soft blue to them, and look beautiful with white pearls; blue and white, when combined,  always say blue sky to me.  and then, i began pulling out random bits and pieces that are still in the plastic craft box that i carried with me to colorado; i associate these special trinkets, pulled from stacks of trays and plates on that disastrous studio table of last late summer/early fall, with the lovely experience i had while working as a resident artist in the heart of the rocky mountains back in september.   from this jumble of stashed treasures, i pulled out what might work for a piece in which i speak of nature.  the resin-filled bezel is one i made back in 1995; it's lasted that long, through three separate moves, and i love the image of the cropped binoculars.  there is a cast sterling charm, the original piece made to my specifications from another jeweler friend so that i could have it cast into multiples and hammered with whatever words i choose to use (this piece?  and i'm chuckling here, this piece with the word "dream" was being drilled, back in the summer, when it flew out of my hand and into that black hole of a studio.  it surfaced when i cleaned to the core, in november).  the fine silver flower charm was made and given to me by another artist friend, a few years ago, and the sterling button is one that i had cast from an antique one of mother of pearl.  i may use one or two of these pieces; i may not use a single thing.  it just depends on where my mood takes me when i get to the point of assembly.  what i want to focus on for this piece, though, is how i wished to spend my quiet pockets of time this past weekend, what few pockets there were to sit and work on something like this:  yesterday morning blossomed bright and sweet, a quiet time to sit with my cup of coffee and watch Sunday Morning on cbs.   this makes me think of daddy; we used to watch it together every sunday morning, without fail, whenever i was visiting.  i've been a little obsessed lately with the notion of taking time to embroider - something, anything - and know i'm serious when i actually enjoy pulling out needle and thread to finally repair a torn spot in a favorite flannel camp blanket.  there were the inevitable weekend chores to do - laundry, house cleaning, cooking, walking with walter - but for a couple of hours it was a lovely respite to sit in my ancient worn flannel pajamas with clouds on them and embroider some old linen with sky blue thread.    i want to do another few of the jewelry designs i made some years back, incorporating antique mother of pearl buckles (this, a gift from a beloved friend).  it is no easy feat; as i drill and cut under water, i'm always afraid that the thing, old and fragile, will shatter.  taking the central bar out, though, creates a beautiful iridescent frame for fabric and embroidery.  looking at the completed embroidery in this morning light, however, magnified for all to see here on this bigger screen, i'm wincing at my irregular stitching, with spaces of linen unintentionally showing between those tiny little threads of blue.  no matter.  when i look at the work, i remember the time i spent beside the inadequate light of my reading lamp, watching a repeat of downton abbey's season finale, i remember weeping a little over the show's cherished characters while curled up on my linen sofa and feeling peaceful and serene.  i remember all of this, the pleasant act of pulling thread with a needle up through old linen, then sending it back down under again, and up and down, over and around.  i remember the dark of the night when it was completed, the cramping in my hands, the feeling of hard work and of bliss.  i remember all of this.  and now, begins the artistic license of assemblage.  do i use the little binoculars piece, which would be lovely with the brown of blooming branches?  there will be one of my sterling birds, this much i know, and the blue of african opal, the white of small freshwater pearls, perhaps the clear blue of peruvian topaz.  there are some treasured white heishi pearls as well, a sweet gift from another artist friend, that when stacked together remind me of wispy cirrus clouds.  i will use the word i ran across in a little bag of saved text snippets there on the studio table - "remembered" - attached to the soft white antique leather from a very old opera glove.  remembered, a word that seemed appropriate because we all have special days when all seemed good, when the sky was blue and the wind was just right and everything was just, in our own world.  i just don't know how this piece will unfold, after this; that is one of the joys of spontaneous creation, and that is how i always operate - no plan, no vision of a piece from start to completion - only the emotions that i've felt when seeing a bit of nature dancing before my eyes, only the way i want my work to speak to those who hold it, who wear it, who understand why i am compelled to connect my art with the natural world that gently, quietly surrounds me.  that is how my life unfolds.  that is how i live.  and now, i see a spot of blue peeking out from behind the morning's clouds, and there is a pup who would dearly love a walk through the waiting woods....xo  (thank you, my friend, for asking these questions, for prompting me these weeks later to write down how i've worked and fumbled my way through a particular design.  xxx)

Comments

[delila]

i came to look at your blog at the same time you where posting something new. somehow i felt i must go to see the world of Nina's. i do love these needle work Nina, so wonderful. i do love to work with needles as well, making simple branches with leaves on to bracelets. working with a needle and a thread reminds me of older days and Bright Star. I do do love Downton Abbey also. when i received the first season (i ordered the dvd without knowing nothing much about it) last summer i watched it three times. there was something so wonderful about this series.

[Lorri Scott]

I love hearing how you work and your embroidery piece is very sweet. I too need to learn how to clean up after myself. lol! I pull out this and that and pretty soon there are piles all over my studio. At this moment I just went up to turn the heat up and warm my studio so I can work and I looked around and sighed ........ I need to clean up a bit before I can work in there. How does one train to be neat? Is there a method to my madness? Probably not but if everything is tucked away I can't see what I have to choose from. I wish someone could organize myself for me that worked.

[Molly Vollmer]

Perhaps your friend, and the rest of us, would like (accept, be in touch with) our work if we didn't bring home bags of stuff from stores and, instead, searched our homes for things that had meaning for us.

[Diana B]

When we begin to create a piece, we have often have in mind what it should look like when finished. It's the nature of the creative process that it usually doesn't look like the image we had in our brains. I find it useful to put things away for a week or two, which gives the image in my head a chance to fade away; then I can look at and appreciate the piece for what it really is. Somehow, that process always redeems it for me!

[Tina in McLeansville]

..."indecision of which way to go. of waiting. of searching for a sunny spot..." i love those words. a very good description of traveling though life, don't you think? ;)
this peek into the workings is quite motivating for me...i especially love the blue skies...and how you just seem to be able to pour all the pieces of the puzzle out of the box and fit them together like magic and have it look so perfect. amazing, as always. hugs to you...xo

[Monica]

Nina, I love how you have described your creative process here...from seeing a beautiful sky to the vignettes of objects you may or may not use and I'm sure we all look forward to seeing the final product however long it takes to create it!

It can be hard to describe our process of inspiration and production and they are all individual to each artist and to each mode of work created whether it's jewelry, painting, collage or sculpture.

BTW: I think your embroidery work looks wonderful! I hope the 'blue skies' piece is going to be part of the necklace, though it would make a wonderful embellishment for one of your art books =-)

[susan]

Nina, thank you for giving us this peek into how you work your magic. I loved following along as you created something unique and wonderful from bits of this and that. The blue skies embroidery piece is absolutely beautiful! I can't wait to see where it goes from here!

xo dusan

[Katherine Langford]

Ah, but the missing magic - the muse that clicks around on high heels or trots in from the fields with wet boots and a happy dog. I think, for artists, the muse sings forth and pushes and prods. That, dear Nina, is your special relationship with your art. You never compromise that union, that dialogue. Each artist can help others, but, in the end, there has to be that dance of shoes and moments, that mystical moment where it is either working or it isn't and then. . . if you take a break, take a walk, sometimes you discover the muse smiling in the corner hiding behind cloud-like lace or in the shadow of trees or nested in your hand as a heart-shaped rock! Thank you so much for the open-hearted share, or perhaps, photo into your heart of hearts. Cheers!

[herhimnbryn]

I woke this morning to blustery skies and a breeze sweeping through the gum trees. I wrote about it my little Moleskine note book so that I would remember. This week the hot summer nights have gone and we sleep well.
I opened up my computor and after checking the weather updates, I came here. What an inspiration, what a treasury of images and words!
Thankyou for taking the time (with your slow connection) to create this post Nina.
xo

[Nelda Ream]

Thank you for this, Nina. Can hardly wait to see the piece you create from these bits.

[Judy H.]

Cool!

[vickie]

I was floating on clouds as I read this. I needed that little trip-thank you.
Vickie in kc

[sandra]

tears are falling this evening...thanks for this post. it touches me in ways you can't imagine...
thank you <3

[liz]

i am pretending we are tucked side by side on a couch in a cabin drinking tea and i am listening to you share these pieces of you...

love this post.
xo

[hol]

Your Opening Photograph, quite simply stole my breath away, and I couldn't even read your words past that!
If you might think of it, I would like to purchase a copy of this photo, in an 8x10 or 17x11 format.
I'm loving the simple magic of image transformation, real or not, this photograph stopped me in my thoughts & tracks. XOXO

[Mardi]

Nina, this post you have shared touched a nerve with me. I am new to jewelry making although I tried to take classes a few lifetimes ago in college. Never being satisfied with cookie cutter mentalities and designs, I have always tried to break the mold. Designing has been in fits and starts, and the work table is cluttered mercilessly. When I have the urge to start a piece, I often get overwhelmed. Thank you for clarifying how important it is to have a clear space to bring inspiration and ideas to.

[ninabagley]

VERY important!!! a lesson that took me 55 years to learn!!! good luck, Mardi - I know youll succeed! nina

Sent from my iPhone

[Jillayne]

Art is always more interesting to me when I know the story of how it came to be, just as stories are more interesting to me when there are beautiful pictures.
As I read your words I could feel a calm stillness come over me and it was like you were speaking softly, telling me how words have colours, and objects have words, and together they make the story. I love this post...

[Erin Perry]

What a joy to sit in spirit by your elbow as you weave your magic. A beautiful post - I could almost feel the textures of your various materials.
Erin in Morro Bay

[kim]

Wow. Thank you! I loved this insight into your creative process. Some of it resonated with me and made me realize that maybe there's hope for me. Sometimes I seriously worry that I have some kind of disorder that will not allow me to find my own way when I create -- things. I have difficulty finding focus and often start about three projects at once. Sadly, I often finish none of them. But sometimes I finish one of them!

[Mystic Blue Creations]

Thank you for the beautiful post. It is very inspirational,although now I feel the urge to go clean up my space(not a small task).Your photograph is beautiful and your embroidery is also an inspiration!

[Leigh]

Since you wrote "Thoughts" and "Process of Inspiration" I have read them many times. Your words are poetry and transport me. Thank you for gift to your readers.

[Bonnie Moench]

What insight into the mind of an artist....you have helped me more than you will know. When I start working I toss those bits of inspiration aside, and try to make something beautiful. Well never again, from now on I will create with my heart.

xoxo
Bonnie

[Greenstudio]

Nina,
Never comment on your blog before, but your blog is slowly becoming one of my favorites. I live in a jungle on an island so your blog is important to me. I think you got your talent from your grandmother mimi and your love from your Dad.....lisa

[Winnie]

This is so incredibly helpful right now. I have been trying to find 'my way' too, so this post is such a great inspiration. Thanks for sharing your thoughts so beautifully!