There is no worse thing than when your brain hits a wall. Sitting here struggling over a concept statement for my class. I’ve spent much of the evening collecting images and writing words and associations down as they come to me, but I feel like I’ve jinxed myself. Once you start pressuring that creative being inside, it runs and hides as if playing a game of hide-and-seek. Think it’s time to quit for the night. Wash some dishes and pack a lunch for tomorrow. Hopefully it comes to me in the middle of the night… it would be fitting, as my concept is around dreams.
I m trying to find the words to describe that moment when dreams and consciousness collide, that moment you slip off the edge and tumble down the rabbit hole, or find yourself soaring over clock-towers to Never Never Land…
Or maybe my concept statement just hit. When I started this post, I was approaching it from the other end, that moment of waking. Of dawn, when perhaps the story lies in the dusk.
The photo above has nothing to do with my project. I am designing a Santa Monica beach house. That image is all for me. Really finding some solstice there.
Now to turn that statement into a space.
(I do not know the original source of the image. I found it here).
Rainbows dance on my walls as the crystals I strung in the window catch the bright sun and explode it into the spectrum in hundreds of stars scattered all over my bedroom. I am one of the fools (fans) who fell down the eggnog rabbit hole in October. I love it in my coffee. I’m on my third cup. I am going to get an ulcer. Hopefully not today. My lone budgie sings to the birds outside. Scotty is off playing football and I am going through my trunk of thrift store clothes that are in need of some alterations… there are a lot of shoulder pads in my kitchen garbage. I’ll probably regret that in a few years when I am madly sewing shoulder pads back IN to everything.
Today feels slow. I relish in slow.
I joked with one of my coworkers that I build “scenes” with everything I see. She was showing me a white cable neck sweater she had just purchased and I immediately started to build an outfit out of it. But it doesn’t stop there. I picture the activity, location, decor and mood as if in a magazine advertisement. She laughed at me as I rambled off something about a fire, sugared rims and tartan blankets. Maybe this isn’t normal?
This morning, as I put together my outfit for Thanksgiving Dinner (where I fill up on brussels spouts and plain mashed potatoes-vegetarian- I’m there for the people, not the food) I realized that I do this a lot. Clothes aren’t really all that important. I am amazed at the money people feel that they have to spend. Others couldn’t give a rip about what they wear. For me, it’s just another opportunity for expression and creativity. I approach cooking much the same way- we all have to eat, we all have to get dressed- why not have fun with it? My brilliant discovery this morning while trying to figure out what tights to wear, was that they could be layered! I’ve got some great crocheted tights, but I sometimes find the contrast between my bare skin and the tights to be a bit dizzying, and then I’ve got some of those “tights” that turned out to be a bit more “nylon” than the package made me believe, but together? Perfect.
This morning we loaded up the CRV with blankets, lawn chairs, firewood and a thermos of hot tea. We stopped in at our favourite local deli for sandwiches and then headed to the beach. There’s this stretch of beach that you can drive your car along, and it’s the perfect spot to have a fire. We ate, listened to Bonobo, he napped and i caught up on some reading for my space planning class. It was simple and such a wonderful way to spend a Saturday morning. I can’t believe that this is the first time I ever thought to do it. I think it might become a bit of a habit.