I have that itch to create again. How many times have we been through this already? Every time it returns, I go through the motions of making something, but I’m never quite convinced that I’ve done whatever it was I was trying to do.

I’d really like to work in clay again. I feel like things were finally clicking for me when I finished up my last ceramics class. I’d really like to explore working in metals again too. And printmaking has always interested me, but I never ended up taking a class in it for some reason. I think the pattern here is that I enjoy working in a classroom environment. Maybe I need the deadlines and specific goals that are created by instructors. Maybe I need the comaraderie of like-minded people. Hmm. I wonder if that is the real reason I enjoy college so much.

Unfortunately, going back to college (or even enrolling in a single class) is just not possible right now. If choosing to homeschool, having another baby, and a lack of finances aren’t confining enough, there’s the anticipated move to Ohio/Missouri/Montana/Texas. I’m really going to have to get thinking if I want to scratch this itch.

I’m still in my creative funk. I’ve been working on a few things that seem to lessen the frustration, but I still haven’t found the it that I need. Having tried a few different things, I’m beginning to understand that the feeling is not only a search for a way to communicate, but a search for a new way to communicate.

I’m not necessarily looking for a brand new form of expression that’s never been tried before. Nor am I speaking of exploring something simply because it is new to me. I’m looking for that special thing which is mine. My Art. A technique, an application, a medium. Something distinctive. A niche, perhaps.

I wish I knew if such a thing exists for me. And if it does, will I ever find it?

I dare anyone to tell me that working as an artist, in one way or another, is not my true calling. It took me decades to realize it, but now that I know, I’ll never let it go. I’m supposed to make stuff.

I’ve said it before. I’m a do-it-yourself kind of girl. Just yesterday, I was debating whether I could manage building a deck this summer. I’m still working on an answer to that one. But, while I enjoy working with my hands, sometimes it doesn’t satisfy my need to create. Sometimes I feel a great need to express myself artistically beyond the physical part of creation. Today is one of those days.

I’ve struggled with this feeling my entire life. As a kid, I couldn’t explain the feeling beyond the words, “I want to make something.” I wasn’t always able to work with my hands, but my frequent retreats to my imaginary world helped the feeling pass.

Soon after imaginary play faded from my life, I found that the feeling to create became more difficult to manage. Not surprisingly, it was around this same time I went through many bouts of depression. This continued until several years ago when I found a way to alleviate the creative pangs. It’s no coincidence that this was when imaginary play returned to my life.

These episodes don’t occur daily, but they can last for severals days at a time. And when they strike, they consume me. I have all these projects sitting here, and I can’t make myself work on them. None of them are creative expressions. None of them let me communicate.

So for now, I’ll just sit here nibbling on a handful of chocolates while I feel sorry for myself. Then, of course, later tonight I’ll feel sorry for myself for eating the chocolates less than three weeks before our Florida wedding trip.

I had an interview for a position as a studio assistant yesterday. The woman was freakishly introverted. Why are so many successfully self-employed people socially awkward? She’s not the first person I’ve met who fits that description, and I’m sure she won’t be the last.

The freakishly introverted woman works mostly in metal. She makes those metal thingies with little glass bits that look great in a garden or on a patio. I was disappointed to learn that she didn’t make everything herself though. One of the responsibilities of her assistant would be to glue magnets on the backs of pre-fabricated metal pieces. I was uncomfortable with the idea of her selling work that was not truely her own creation.

Part of the reason my jewelry ideas have stalled is because I don’t feel original enough. I made a lot of new pieces this past weekend, but I’m not happy with them. They’re just not special enough. If it’s easy for me to make something, why would anyone buy it when they can just as easily make it themselves? But when I look around me at the CRAP some people are making and SELLING, I wonder if I’m overestimating the individual person’s willingness to make things themselves. I’ve always been a do-it-yourself girl. The process is just as important as the product. Sometimes, its more important than the product. I guess that’s why it’s hard for me to accept that some people don’t want to learn to make things themselves.

I think I need to compromise with myself. I’m not willing to budge on things like craftmanship and original designs. I am willing to forgive myself if my ideas are not totally unique or if the process is easy. I’m working on a new plan for myself. Not a business plan exactly, but an outline of my goals for my “business.” That list may even include plans for me to take the quotes off the word “business” eventually! Right now I’m just going to forgive myself for writing this entry in the same messy way my brain thinks things through.

I emailed my professor about meeting with her to finish my “big pot” and to see if she could take some slides of my work before the scholarship deadline. Unfortunately, she won’t be back in town for three more weeks. I’m still working on getting the slides though. I’m going to call the art department tomorrow and see if they can’t direct me to someone who can do the slides for me. If that works out, I’ll contact my professor again to see if she will write me a letter of recommendation. I think she would, I just have to figure out a way for her to get the letter to me or the art department in time.

Part of me is feeling a bit insecure about the scholarship. It’s no secret that I often question my artistic abilities. I was feeling fairly confident until I saw my grades for last semester. I’m an A student. I’m used to getting As in my academic classes with little or no effort. I struggle in my art classes though. I feel like I really have to work to succeed, and even then, I’m unsure of my success. I know when I’ve done well in, say, math or history. With the material presented, you either know it, or you don’t.

Art’s not like that. There is no right or wrong, and yet we still need to show that we are learning and growing. How do we do that? And how do we know if we are doing that? I had a very slow start in my ceramics class. About a 10 week slow start. I know that I grew and improved, but how do you grade that? At this point you’re probably thinking I’m unhappy with my grade. I’m not. I got a 4.0 in both of my classes. But I question that. Was I judged on my growth and improvement? Was I judged on my potential? Was I judged on my crafting skill? Had I gotten an A- or even a B+ in the class I would have felt better than I do with this A. I wouldn’t have questioned if I got the grade for trying really hard, or for being an untraditional student. I would have felt that I put in a good effort, but with room for improvement. I know my professor likes me, so I question if that had some influence on my grade.

If I’m able to get the slides in time, I’ll let the scholarship committee worry about whether or not I have good potential. They’re not getting many applications, so my chance of getting something are pretty good.

I’ve mentioned a few times how I have difficulty believing in my abilities as an artist. I often wonder if people don’t take me seriously because I don’t take myself seriously, or vice versa. It’s that whole “which came first, the chicken or the egg?” thing. When I started my first business back in 1997, a friend of my mom’s was starting her own business too. My mom kept talking about Hazel and Hazel’s business and how great Hazel’s business was doing. Hazel, Hazel, Hazel. My mom spent a lot of time helping Hazel set up her office and get new clients.

When I set up my office, I did it alone. When I held my grand opening, none of my family came to offer support. I don’t expect a lot from people, so it didn’t bother me that they didn’t come. It did bother me that Hazel’s business was treated as something worthy of attention and my business was treated as another one of Kerrie’s silly little hobbies.

I talked to my mom last night and told her that my website was nearly ready. She gave me my little pat on the head and then told me about her friend Julie who took a jewelry class. Wanting to sound important, I interrupted her. “Was it a jewelry class, or a beading class? They are different.” It turns out, it was a beading class. In the class, the students learned about a new “clay” like substance that can be used to make metal beads. I was already very familiar with the “clay.” It’s called precious metal clay or PMC. My mom seemed a little surprised that I knew what it was.

At some point, the conversation turned from PMC to Julie’s friend who makes jewelry and has her own website. Imagine that. A woman who makes jewelry by hand and sells it on the internet. What a concept. I admit, I was slightly annoyed. I jumped in the conversation and tried to talk up my jewelry design and my website like it was real. She didn’t seem very impressed, but she told me she might take a look at it sometime.

Today I find myself rethinking my plans. I had intended to publish the new site tonight or tomorrow. Now I’m not so sure. I know I don’t have many designs right now. I guess part of me is embarrassed by that. It would be easier if everyone who was going to see my site and designs was a complete stranger. It’s almost as if being anonymous makes it okay to fail. That way, it’s some girl that failed. It’s not “my daughter failed” or “my wife failed” or “my sister failed.” It’s not me who failed. In truth, no one besides me would say I’ve failed. The others all expect it, so to them it’s just another thing that I tried for a while.

When I started my first business back in 1997, it came as little surprise to me that no one took it seriously. I mean, I have a history of being unable to commit to things for more than 3 months. I don’t think it was my history of quitting that kept people from believing in me though. I think it had something more to do with me personally. I’ve always felt that people don’t take me seriously. Perhaps I don’t take myself seriously, and my lack of self-confidence is clear to others. I don’t know.

I’m finding that this new business venture is taking a similar path. I’ve talked about all of this before, but I haven’t made any progress since then. In fact, I’ve been tempted to put quotes around the word business each time I’ve mentioned it here. I’m trying to tell myself that this jewelry thing is real. I filed my DBA. I have a sales tax license. I have a business checking account. I have the website. I’ve been building my inventory. I have a fax machine and a fax number. Today, I found a mailbox service that I will be using. I’ve even sold jewelry already! Lots of it! It seems like real business. Yet, I still have this feeling that this is all make believe.

I tried to be the jewelry designer who owned her own business today. When I talked to the girl about the mailbox service, I explained that I would be selling my jewelry over the internet and I needed a mailbox that would be large enough to handle small shipments such as returns. But I swear almost choked when I came to the words, “I make and sell jewelry.” I felt like such a liar. A fake. A phony. A fraud. Get it? I couldn’t do it. After I said those words, I quickly followed up with the explanation that I wasn’t really selling jewelry yet, but once I got the site ready, I would need a mailbox. I was also compelled to add that it was “just a small home-based business, just a hobby, really.” Ugh.

What does it take to move from the imagined to the real? I see people making their dreams a reality all around me, and I have so much respect for them. Why can’t I feel that way about myself?

I visited a local craft fair today. I didn’t expect to find anything truly spectacular, and I seldom do at these small shows made up of hobbyists. There were only about twenty exhibitors. One was exhibiting stained glass. Another had wooden wall hangings. Still another was selling what seemed to be batik linen garments, which were clearly the highlight of the show. There was the token musician selling her CDs. There were the non-craft exhibits that alway rent booths for these types of things when they’re really more interested in home parties for their own business. And, of course, there were the booths of assorted junk. This particular craft fair had so many of these junky booths, that I can’t recall a single one. Not a one stood out as the best of the worst.

Then there was the beaded jewelry. This show had three exhibitors of handmade beaded jewelry. I always take notice of these booths since I do this professionally myself, and besides that, jewelry is just fun.

Booth #1 was run by someone’s grandmother. I don’t have anything against grandmothers making beaded jewelry. I did, however, find it a little strange that the business was advertised as “Grandma’s Happy Place.” (Note: I’ve changed the name slightly, but you get the idea.) I could maybe see using the grandmother image if her wares were vintage pieces, or heirloom pieces, or… something. But this wasn’t the case. The small table was scattered with unimaginative pieces that could have been designed by a six year old. I don’t mean to sound overly cruel, but the designs were no more complex than a basic five item repeating pattern. The chosen materials were low quality (which isn’t always a bad thing) and the pieces lacked the finishing touches that one would expect from a more professional piece. The price range for her items was between $5 and $10. She was clearly a hobbyist. Which, again, isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Booth #2 was a hodgepodge of things. Amidst the beaded jewelry, were loose beads and hair ribbons. The proprietor offered a service of wrapping hair in colored thread and weaving beads throughout. Hair wrapping, I think it’s called. The table was a mess. Items were haphazardly tossed about with no clear reasoning behind their placement. I couldn’t find prices on any of the items I picked up, but I did find a few with a business card attached. The cash box was a cigar box that they pulled out and laid on top of their products whenever they made a transaction. The booth seemed to be run by a group of young girls. They seemed to be in their late teens to early 20’s and had a lack of good common sense when it came to business.

Booth #3 was well organized, though lacked any definition of different lines. The pieces were only slightly more original than Grandma’s pieces, though this girl used high quality materials and finished her pieces off professionally. Her price range was a bit higher too, averaging between $20 and $35. I would guess that she won’t sell many pieces this weekend for a couple of reasons. First, the location of the craft show doesn’t attract people looking for high quality items. This area is very charming and quaint, but tends to lack in culture. Second, her pieces don’t look that much different than Grandma’s pieces, yet they cost twice as much. And last, Grandma was over there talking up a storm, while this girl just sat in her corner, eyes downcast, while potential customers mingled in her booth.

I initially came away from this show feeling a little discouraged. Everyone and their grandma (literally!) can and do make beaded jewelry. Why would they buy my designs, when they can make their own? Plus, there’s no way I can sell my designs at Grandma’s prices and expect to make a living as an artist.

Now that I’ve written my thoughts here, I actually feel a bit better. I’ve realized that I can’t compare myself to these crafters because what we do is very different. We have different goals. Our target consumer is different. We use different materials and offer a different quality of product. We sell in different areas. We have different marketing strategies. (Not a single one of these booths, by the way, had any literature about the artist, or the product, or the materials, or… anything!)

I apologize if this entry comes off sounding a bit self-righteous. I don’t begrudge the hobbyists who want to make a few bucks to support their hobby. Really. In fact, I encourage them to continue to pursue happiness through art and design. It’s what WhimsyChick.com is all about. I guess I just needed to reassure myself that my plan is a good one.

I’ve pursued a degree in art more times than I can count. I’ve tried both graphic art and fine art. I’ve studied at both the community college and the university level. Each time ends up the same way. Though my works are often highly appraised, I never believe they deserve it. I start to compare my works to the works of other students in class. The true artists. That’s where my self-defeating attitude kicks in. I know my talent isn’t good enough to earn such high grades, so I figure there can only be two possible explanations as to why my projects receive the praise that they do. It’s either a) the professor and other students feel sorry for my obvious lack of talent and want to reward me for my effort. Or it’s b) the project is really pretty good, but it was pure luck and not talent that made it good.

As I get older, I find that I feel more like it’s luck rather than pity that earns me the praise. I call it my “Fraud Complex.” That’s fraud not Freud. Basically, I feel like everyone sees one or two really great projects and thinks that I have talent, when in fact, I am only pretending to know what I’m doing. I just know that someone will eventually find out the truth and realize that I have no talent and no ability.

I discussed this fear with one of my art professors one year. He told me that many artists have an instinctive sense of composition, and that’s why they are able to produce good results with little conscious effort. It makes sense, and it helped ease my mind for the time being, but I’m not sure I completely buy it.

Whether luck or talent, I’m satisfied for the moment just to be creating art full time.