The Creative Frenzy-Battle Scars & Afterglow

There's somewhat of a dark side to the creative frenzy.  "I totally understand the frenzy although, I'm not as fanatical about finishing a project as I used to be."  "I too, understand creative frenzy. It has to be harnessed before it gets away."  "I love your description of "creative frenzy." I can totally relate. I'm too old to stay up until 2:30 a.m.---but when I'm in one of those "creative frenzies" I lose all track of time. And yet, in some ways, that is when I feel most alive -- or, at least, not so old."  "I live in a creative frenzy. I see possiblities in everything and sometimes I have so many ideas running around in my head that I feel like it clogs my brain!"  All these comments made by creative souls seem to support my opening statement.  There is nothing quite like the "aha!" moment when a creative frenzy has successfully ended and there sits Salvador DeMadariaga's vision of matter conveying your spirit.  There it sits on your kitchen table in all it's wonder-"aha!"  Or, maybe it doesn't...

Frenzy-noun 1. extreme mental agitation; wild excitement or derangement. 2. a fit or spell of violent mental excitement.  The very definition of frenzy implies the possibility of a dark side to creative frenzy.  A creative frenzy for me is all consuming.  I can hardly concentrate on anything else as ideas of how I will accomplish this conveyance of spirit to matter ping pong around in my head.  Once I am actually working on whatever it is that put me into this frenzy, I am almost in an uncontrollable maniacal state where I will finish this no matter what.  It's the no matter whats that get you into trouble.

No matter whats have no patience and do not always make the best decisions.  No matter whats have repeatedly lured me into believing my silverware drawer holds all sorts of magical tools.  You would not believe the things I can do with a fork.  I once painstakingly took out hundreds of vintage upholstery staples with a dinner knife after I broke the tip off of one of my good carving knives.  The blade on the dinner knife was just a little too thick, so if I didn't wiggle it just right it would slip.  Every slip took another piece of my knuckle.  Did I ever stop?  No.  Stopping meant I would have to leave my frenzy and actually go somewhere to find a more suitable tool.  The next day, I was browsing through some cool tool gizmos at my favorite hardware store.  I gingerly picked one up trying not to bump my bandaged knuckles and read the description-upholstery tack and staple remover.  Who knew......

The drive behind a creative frenzy is right up there with the 7 miracles of the world.  Everyone knows that having the right tool for the job is a huge component to how successful you will be.  This does not apply to a creative frenzy.  It doesn't matter if you have the right tool as long as you have ANY tool.  I do not own many power tools which is probably a good thing.  A past boyfriend would not allow me to have power tools as he was sure I would cut something off that I ultimately needed.  When we parted ways, I immediately purchased a jigsaw not because I needed it or knew what it was for but because it was small and by God it was a power tool!  During a creative frenzy, I decided that the medicine cabinet in my bathroom needed to be recessed instead of laying against the wall.  I could do it-I had a power tool!  My walls are entirely wood-no sheetrock.  I made some nail holes close together, stuck my jigsaw blade in the hole and away I went-until I hit a stud and realized it went right through the center where I wanted the medicine cabinet.  Many hours later, the medicine cabinet successfully recessed into the wall.  I chipped and chopped that stud until I finally got it out of the way.  I completely cut it out with a jigsaw-a tiny saw made to make curves and intricate cuts.  Sure, it looked like Fred Flintstone had chipped it out with a huge piece of flint, but I successfully did it.  The creative frenzy gives you the drive and strength to do things normal people would never even attempt.  My sister was making a hole with a power drill once during a creative frenzy.  She was aware that it seemed more difficult and was taking longer than other times, but that didn't matter.  She put all her strength into the drilling and continued relentlessly until she had successfully finished drilling the hole.  When she was finished she realized the drill was set on reverse.  Who knew...

The creative frenzy is often the force behind amazing artistic creations, but it can also wreak havoc on those of us who know its gripping force all too well.  Lost sleep, forgotten committments, knicked silverware covered with scratches and the worst-no "aha!" at the end.  I just came through a creative frenzy and have made it to the other side with a satisfying "aha!"  My tool of choice for this project was a hot glue gun.  As the frenzy was winding down and I could clearly see an "aha!" coming as my spirit was successfully being transferred to matter, I became tired and sloppy.  A large blob of hot glue and all the spider web like trails surrounding it dripped onto the top of my hand.  I was gluing paper to paper and when the hot glue hit my hand, the pain made me jump and the paper I was gluing went to the wrong spot.  I had literally seconds to make a split decision.  If I didn't quickly replace the paper before the glue solidified, I would have to tear it off and more than likely would ruin the entire project.  If I didn't tend to my hand immediately, not telling what the repercussion would be.  I chose the project.  "Aha" clouded my thinking and the glue on my hand began to harden as it deeply burned my skin.  When I turned my attention to my hand, as the glue came off, so did my skin.  Who knew...

The creative frenzy.  Battle scars and afterglow.  Sitting here, reflecting back over my recent frenzy, I look at my completed "aha!" and it's difficult not to notice my throbbing hand that required 2 of my largest bandages to cover the burn.  I am almost certain I will be left with yet another battle scar gotten during a creative frenzy.  And I have to ask myself-was it worth it??  You're damn skippy it was....... 

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The Creative Frenzy

"Art is the conveyance of spirit by means of matter."  Salvador DeMadariaga.  This is one of my favorite quotes as it perfectly puts into words what it means to be a creative soul.  Studies show that the brains of creative people appear to be more open to incoming stimuli from the surrounding environment.  Studies also show links between creative genius and mental illness.  Einstein, Salvador Dali and John Forbes Nash, Russell Crowe's character in "A Beautiful Mind", are perfect examples of the fine line between creativity and mental illness.  Often, people with bipolar disorder do not like to be medicated because medication inhibits the creativity experienced in the manic phase.  I think I understand their resistance.  

The creative frenzy is a sweet and sour sort of animal most especially if you have other responsibilities that you can not just let go of.  When the frenzy hits, things like full time jobs basically get in the way and you enter this state of conflict that all creative people understand all too well.  My creative frenzies are never around easily executed ideas.  A simple trip to the crafts department of Walmart and a couple hours dodging blisters from wayward drips of hot glue from my glue gun is never enough.  Certainly I enjoy creating earrings from my vintage beads for my etsy shop, but this creative process could never come close to satisfying a creative frenzy.  The only thing that satisfies a creative frenzy is to successfully "convey your spirit by means of matter".  I have to transfer the idea exploding in my head to concrete reality.

For me, a creative frenzy is all consuming and that's where conflict comes into play.  I can't stop thinking about the new idea or project-the materials I need to order, how I will execute it, if I can successfully pull it off etc.  I can never find enough hours to transform my creative idea to a finished project.  I have to work, invariably I have to order some tool and God forbid I have to eat and sleep.  Every step is fast forwarded in my mind and there my idea is so beautifully completed in my "mind's eye".  The problem is life doesn't have a fast forward button or even a pause button-we have to continue on play and for some of us who unfortunately repeat some of our mistakes, occasionally reverse... 

Creative frenzy is the vehicle that takes the creative soul from an intangible idea to a concrete reality.

When a creative frenzy is successful and you have that "aha" moment, there is nothing more satisfying.

    

Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Edison and Albert Einstein understood creative frenzy.  They lived it.  I am in no way comparing myself to these creative geniuses.  All I am saying is I get it.....

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Vintage Beads

I love vintage beads!  I have been collecting vintage beaded necklaces from the 1950's and 1960's for many years.  The visual beauty of these necklaces catches my eye, but it's much more than this that forces my hand up at auctions and leads me shamelessly to the "junk" jewelry boxes at thrift stores.  I love how they feel in my hand and I love the history that they hold.  I love the kitschy plastic baubles just as much as the expensive necklaces.  Even though I have dresser drawers bulging with vintage necklaces that I rarely actually wear, I can not stop.  I love vintage beads!

I have learned over my years that you have to pick your battles and typically it is best to just go with the flow.  Rather than give up my addiction for vintage beaded necklaces, I have found a way to bring respect to this addiction.  I make earrings from vintage beads and sell them in my Etsy shop.  It's a win/win situation.  I now have a purpose for buying vintage beaded necklaces and my customers can purchase one of a kind earrings designed from vintage beads.  Sometimes it hurts a little to make the first snip with the scissors when I am cutting a necklace to harvest the beads.  Sometimes my scissors won't work and I have to keep the necklace...

There are so many unique vintage beads.  These little pieces of history make some fabulous earrings.   

Sometimes they are like little pieces of art.

Look how interesting these hematite beads are.  Chances are good you won't run into someone else wearing a pair of earrings like these.

These gorgeous lavender earrings are made with sugar beads and crackle beads.

I think I wore earrings similar to these orange ones many years ago.

I know I wore earrings similar to this pair in the 1970's.

These lavender crackle beads and heavy crystals would make gorgeous earrings for bridesmaids.

These look good enough to eat.

These lime green foil beads make great summer earrings.

These fancy purple earrings have a fabulous sparkle.

This is another great example of how different and unique vintage beads are.

I'm just going with the flow.  Someone who does not understand the creative mind may still view my vintage beads as an addiction.  There's a fine line between addiction and creative passion.  I crossed that line many years ago and I'm ok with that...

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Aging Gracefully

Recently, I ran into an old friend that I haven't seen in awhile.  I saw her at a distance at first, and as she came closer I noticed that something was oddly different about her yet I couldn't quite put my finger on it.  We chatted a bit about our lives and I shared my excitement over my Etsy shop.  As we chatted, I realized what was different-she looked frightened and tense.  My concern about her well being quickly vanished when she informed me that she had recently had her eyes "done".  She proceeded to tell me that her eyelids had drooped to the point that it was affecting her vision so......Hmmm, seems to me I had heard that same malady was inflicted upon another friend of mine.  Insurance doesn't cover cosmetic surgery, but if the problem affects your vision......If you practice the custom of putting wooden plates in your eyelids much like the natives did with their lips in The National Geographics and then removed them years later, maybe...

There is a beautiful softening that comes with natural aging.  Why can't we just let it happen?  I have often stated I would have been better suited to be an adult in the 1950's-pearls, starched apron and all.  Many things about that era appeal to me and it's not just the material items like you might find in Boomer Babies Upcycles.  Who wouldn't want to hang out with your neighborhood girlfriends drinking coffee out of cups with saucers while the kids are...?  Actually, no one knew or really cared where the kids were or what they were doing.  We would happily chat about the newest recipe rage,mock apple pie, that had no apples or any redeeming ingredient at all in it.  One big baked goodness of carbs, sugar, and fat.  After that, we might exchange our newest tricks on how to keep celery in American Chop Suey from going phlacid.  Back then, women aged with grace.  Sure, they had their cold cream and chin slings, but these sightings were saved for the men lucky enough to share their beds.  

The big problem with trying to fight the natural aging process with cosmetic surgery is that the average person can't really take advantage of the full benefits.  They just can't afford it.  So, the person chasing their youth saves their pennies to have the procedure they believe will make them the happiest.  The overweight woman pays thousands of dollars for a tummy tuck and ends up with a small flat midsection on a body that has arms and legs that still belong to the fat lady.  She now looks like a rubber action figure.  If your face is tight and wrinkle free and you have a humongous chicken neck, is this really a pretty sight?  If you lift your arms and let the water balloons hang down freely, do you think no one will notice because your eyes are pinned back like Kenny Roger's?  

Women of the midcentury aged with grace.  At a certain age, it was common knowledge that it was time for a helmet do.  The long, flowing hair of youth was replaced with a perm with tight little curls that clung as closely as possible to your scalp.  Anything that didn't conform to the helmet was doused with lacquer and sprayed into submission.  There's a certain freedom in this practice.  How easy it must be to never have to worry about how you will wear your hair on a certain day.  You sleep, get up, and every hair is still in place, keeping the integrity of the helmet.  If, per chance, a section of the helmet gets dented, one merely picked it out with a hair pick or even a fork.  Older women of the midcentury adapted to their changing bodies and they didn't have chicken necks.  Their bodies gradually aged and the pieces melted together so everything was merely one dimension from the base of the head to the knees.  No neck, no breasts, no waist, no butt.  Every older woman looked like Mrs. Potatohead and it was ok.  Along with the acceptance of the helmet do, the short string of pearls that once adorned the neck of youth was replaced with the long string of red or  black glass beads that floated around the bosom shelf.

I would like to see more of the beautiful softness that comes with natural aging.  God doesn't make junk.  If, for some reason, your preference is to use every tool available to you to fight the natural aging process, I would like to make a suggestion.  Next time you go out in public, you might want to consider leaving that fat bald guy sporting the bermudas and the white tube socks half way up his calves at home.......


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The Ambush

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The Ambush

When my Dad was alive, he had a couple of skin melanomas.  A couple or several years ago, I thought it would be wise for me to go to the dermatologist and get a "mole mapping" (sounds ticklish) with this family history.  The male dermatologist that I went to had a personality comparable to my sofa.  We mapped, he received a ridiculous sum of money for what felt like 2 whole minutes and I went home.  Recently, I again began to think about family health history and the need to take better care of myself.  I wasn't thrilled with going back to the sofa, but did some research and he was pretty much it for this area.  He has a huge practice, so, I put the personality aside and made an appointment.  Then the fun began.

I had no idea what to expect.  Once you're mapped, are you remapped, driven on?  He has a new office in this tiny town's only skyscraper.  I think it is 3 stories tall.  This complex looks ridiculous in our quaint little downtown.  It's one of those buildings that has offices, shops and condos for people who want to conveniently live in a downtown that rolls up its sidewalks at dusk.  In a town that maybe has 6000 people, everyone is only minutes from downtown...This complex has a parking deck.  Funny.  My son lives in Atlanta, so I am familiar with parking decks.  Trust me, we do not need a parking deck in Mayberry.  When I was confirming my appointment with the receptionist, I asked for directions to his office.  When she stated "once you have parked in the parking deck", I giggled as I thought she was making a joke.  She wasn't.  I drove into the concrete parking deck for my appointment and there wasn't another vehicle anywhere.  There were no signs or any indication where one should park so I just smiled and parked in the  middle.  When I got out of my car, it was a little creepy as there were no cars, no people, no signs, no nothing.  I saw a door and walked through.  Again, no signs, no people, no nothing.  I walked down the deathly quiet hall searching for my mapping sofa and found a door with his name on it.  I entered to a reception room with again, no people.  The receptionist immediately greeted me and asked me to sit down as someone would be right with me.  My behind hadn't touched the chair before a door opened and a nurse called my name-like there were other people in the room.  I laughed a little and made some offhand comment like "she wasn't kidding when she said someone will be right with you".  She just smiled.  She brought me to a room that was way too big to be a patient room.  It was at least 4-6 times bigger than any exam room I have ever been in.  She gave me a lovely paper gown and asked me to strip.  She floated out like a cartoon character and I giggled again.  A few seconds later, I was stripping as told in this humongous room with no dressing area or place to put your clothes and the doctor knocks quickly and walks right in before I have a chance to answer.  I'm bending over in underwear I hadn't expected to be public in and my paper ensemble is laying on the floor and hasn't even been pulled apart yet so you can get your arms through it.  You know how they are all stuck flat together.  If you are a woman you know.  I looked up and he is beet red.  I'm thinking omg, you only have one patient, how could you not know I have only had 2 seconds to prepare for your entrance!  Let's just say I did not look like this.....

He backs out, composes himself and re-enters a few minutes later.  I am standing there in this too huge room and he asks me if I am having any "issues".  I reply no.  He asks me to sit in a dentist's chair.  He peers at my arms and legs and doesn't say a word.  Sofas do not speak much.  I'm staring straight ahead and he makes his first statement.  "I like patients to come on a regular basis.  You should come annually."  I say "ok".  He starts looking at the right side of my face and I am looking forward so I can't see him.  All of a sudden I get this sharp stinging sensation like something has bitten me on my cheek.  I quickly look to the right and my face is stopped short by a cold space gun.  The sofa says, "it hurts, doesn't it".  I'm sort of in shock and as I am laughing a little I mention something like maybe you should have warned me you were going to do something.  Before I could hardly get that out, he had done it again.  Feeling somewhat attacked, with wide eyes I ask "what are you doing?"  "Age spots-you don't want those".  In my mind I am thinking well, maybe not, but they were mine and I think you should ask first...I am passive, probably too passive-so I didn't say anything.  Remember he had the gun.

He walks his rolling stool over to the left side of my face without standing up.  Then I hear, "hmmm, I'm not so sure about this one".  As I turn my face toward him to ask what the hmmm is all about, it is greeted with a huge needle.  My passive self went away and I boldly asked him what he was doing and I honestly wanted to say what the @^%# are you doing???  The sofa then found his words to let me know he thought we should biopsy a spot.  I said, oh and he proceeded to jam the needle into my face.  No this may hurt, brace yourself or nothing.  Quickly that half of my face no longer belonged to me and I am assuming he took a knife to do something but I didn't feel anything.  He abruptly gets up, states it will take a week or so for the results and says the nurse will be in.  He walks out like Tin Man and the cartoon character nurse floats back in.  I am bandaged, given instructions on how to care for my wounds and on my merry way...

Sitting back in my car, I had the uncontrollable urge to laugh hysterically.  The entire experience from never seeing people to ending up with half a dead face and the other half stinging painfully was nothing like I expected remapping to be.  It was all so surreal.  From the time I got out of my car until the time I got back in, 17 minutes had passed....

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Karma

The concept of "action" or "deed", understood as that which causes the entire cycle of cause and effect.  This is the wikipedia definition for karma.  How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours. ~Wayne Dyer.  Etsy has a variety of teams that members can join at will.  Team members are connected by common interests, problems, a desire to learn about making their Etsy shop more successful etc.  I am a member of several teams, two of which are small with very friendly members who are eager to help each other with the big common goal of improving their Etsy businesses.  Blogging Grannies currently has 18 members, all over 50 years old, who learn from each other as we strive to build our Etsy shops.  Yes, we tweet, do facebook, blog and use all the bells and whistles available to us to promote our internet businesses just like Etsians that may be a year or two younger than we are.  Vintage Bloggers currently has 25 members who share my love for vintage items.  I find both these teams to be very supportive and friendly.  I would like to begin featuring shops of team members to be supportive of them, but also as a way to get to know each one a little better as I explore their Etsy shops.  I firmly believe what goes around comes around and that this exploring and building rapport with fellow Etsians will ultimately help my shop as well.  Good karma.

Seese the Day is the Etsy shop of a Blogging Grannies team member that I am just beginning to get acquainted with.  The shop owner is Jo Seese and coincidentally, she is from Hickory, North Carolina which is only about 2 hours from Brevard, North Carolina where I live.  Small world.  She sells unique, ooak, handcrafted jewelry and accesories.  Her fabulous items absolutely pop with color and personality.  She has beautifully combined her talents to create very unique items that are a combination of knitting and beading.  So creative.  Here are a couple examples of her work:

How adorable is this girl!  Notice all the different materials and textures in this scarf.  Jo does not just knit, she creates art.  Fabulous.  My favorite items in her shop are her gorgeous bracelets.  The combination of knitting and beading is just so unique and interesting.

Jo is a middle school teacher working toward retirement.  I admire anyone who is a teacher and most especially those with the ability to teach this age group.  My comment to her was that raising middle school children is like trying to nail jello to a tree.  She states that creating keeps her sanity.  I would say she is probably very sane as her therapy has certainly produced some beautiful creativity...

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Sputnik

I would like to introduce you to Sputnik..............

Sputnik is a vintage 1957 Sportcraft "canned ham" style 15 ft travel trailer.  Most people that see this sitting in my driveway just don't get it.  They cock their head, smile ever so slightly and state "that's nice" when their eyes are clearly stating this woman is out of her gourd!  I am totally unaffected by these judgements as quite frankly, I am not so sure I would like to get in to my gourd.  I am sure it would be cramped and not nearly as much fun in there.  Being oomg, I am in love.

My plan is to totally redo Sputnik and then cruise around as the urge strikes me once I retire.  I would love to start visiting our National Parks and experience some of the beauty that is right here in the United States.  I am currently dabbling in trying to find a group of vintage camper owners in my region of the country (NC)who travel together in preparation for my virgin run.  What is so bizarre about all of this is I have never even camped in a new camper, never mind one from the 50's.  The thought of carrying around my own little room is very appealing to me, though.  My sheets, my towels, a space that is totally designed for me when I travel.  I wouldn't say I am a match for Howard Hughes, but as I get older, motel rooms kind of give me the creeps if I allow myself to think too deeply when staying in one.  I always bring my own pillow, but who was in this bed 24 hours ago and what were they doing?  I've seen those 60 minutes shows with the ultraviolet lights... Quite frankly, I don't know a thing about camping trailers.  This one is pretty much stripped and that is one of the reasons I was attracted to it.  If I am going to quasi live in a rolling metal room with canned ham as a descriptive term of endearment, there is no question I will have to put my stamp on it.  My vision includes midcentury design with all the bells and whistles of the modern world.  To date, this is just a vision...

                

I have been collecting "pieces" for Sputnik as I can afford them or when I find something that brings my vision closer to a reality.  A top of the line stainless steel European gas stove top combination sink for the kitchen area and ever so cool vintage atomic fabric for curtains are examples of items I have purchased that will ultimately help to flesh out my vision.  Being a thrift store addict, I have many pieces of Sputnik stored in boxes under my bed.  If you were to venture there, you would find pink and aqua melmac dishes from the 1950's, midcentury kitchen items and quite an array of authentic vintage decor to ready Sputnik for travel.  Sputnik approved items never make it to my Etsy shop.  One of the laminate companies has a fabulous vintage line of 50's style formica sheets that will be perfect for the drop down table and kitchen counter area.  I have even found and purchased authentic 1950's light pink/peach square vinyl tiles for the floor.  You know the ones.  They are about a 12" square and you have to wax them to make them shiny.  It goes without saying that I will be wearing my pearls and a smile as I perform this chore.  Someone told me these tiles may pose a health risk as they are made of asbestos, formaldehyde or some other mysterious material sure to be carcinogenic.  I am letting this bit of information float around in my head and I may do a little research on that statement.  I have awhile before I will get to the floor, but I am quite sure it will be difficult giving up this perfect floor for an "it may be".  My gut feeling right now is I will probably keep it.  Not surprising from someone who is ootg............................ 

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