Today I was prompted to think back on how creativity began for me.
That was a lot of thinking...because I actually don't remember a time
before I realized that by altering something, I could turn it into
something I considered beautiful. I remember (I know this is gross)
chewing on my antique bed frame because I liked the look of the wood
grain better than the varnish. I was around three years old then. In
kindergarten, like most budding artists, I intentionally colored outside
of the lines. No, not to be rebellious. It was because the fat printed
lines of the drawing I was supposed to color in didn't look like cat
hair. By the way, lots of cats are green, right?
When I was in
third grade, my family took a trip to Texas. We had family in El Paso
but we traveled to other parts of the state, too. Over the three weeks
we were there I was exposed to a lot of scenery that I never could have
imagined, living in my home state Michigan. The desert, the strange
looking cactus, gravel yards, the colorful springs...all these things
worked together to expand (blow!) my mind. One thing in particular that
changed the course of my life was a little glass shop near the Alamo. I
have no idea what the name of the shop was, only that the people in
there were taking molten lava and turning it into beautiful works of
art.
The following year, on a fourth grade field trip to the local
museum, I visited the permanent paper weight collection...and have been
back to see it many times since. As a nine-year-old girl I was
captivated by those glistening orbs of intricate and colorful design.
Ok, I'll fast forward a...ehem...couple of years.
I finally bit
the financial bullet and bought myself a lampworking set-up in 2009. I
am primarily self-taught but I do like to treat myself to the occasional
tutorial. I love melting glass...I told someone the other day that I
felt like I was in a partnership with the glass, working together to
create something beautiful. Corny, right?
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