making - a love story

Gosh I’ve been thinking so much about creativity this past week. I’ve been consumed with wondering about texture, about story, about shape and about opportunities for self expression . And I’ve been obsessed with trying to work out how creativity fits into the life I’m living at the moment, and where I can fit in more, and what that more would actually look like.

While we were away the creator in me was inspired by everything we came across. My eyes were wide open and I felt hungry to take it all in and remember it, and to somehow make it my own.

There were the colour palettes and the materials…

the concepts and themes…

the shapes and purposes and the light…

the history and patina…

the ancient and the gentrified…

the personal responses and the political…

the techniques and the textures…

the collaborations and the stories…

my visceral responses and emotions…

and the fun and flippant…everywhere we went we pointed things out to each other. We stopped to analyse architecture and art and fashion and graffiti. We discussed how we could incorporate bits of what we found in our lives back home. We talked about potential projects and we felt emboldened and passionate and free thinking and full of ideas.

One afternoon we spent time in a tiny jewellery store that we visit every time we’re in Jaffa. Sharon Shalev’s studio is the most incredible treasure trove. Every space is filled with jars of silk flowers, baskets of threads, bowls of old coins, beads and chains and bits of old embroidery, and rugs, and bundles of materials, and plastic and wooden trinkets, and tools. And then there are Sharon’s incredible creations hung and displayed around the shop: necklaces, and bracelets, and rings, and cuffs, and collars, and all manner of other incredible decorative pieces.

I don’t actually know how to best describe the studio in words except to say that each time I’ve walked through her studio I’ve had the strongest feelings of yearning. Sharon’s collections and makings feel like a creative explosion. Like Sharon is living her elemental truth. Like it’s some sort of creative temple. Like everything she feels and thinks, she incorporates into her creative story.

I’ve only ever bought one thing from her and it was possibly the simplest necklace she’s ever made: a collection of old coins and baubles threaded onto a ball-bearing necklace. I don’t love, nor would I wear most of the pieces she makes; they are extremely colourful and ornate. It’s the sense of all consuming creativity I am drawn to. That I can’t look away from. That I want to gobble up and keep for myself somehow.

On this last trip as we were departing Sharon’s shop and I was delaying leaving that feeling for as long as possible by taking photos on my instagram stories of the bottles and jars of flowers in her doorway, and chatting away about how inspiring and how beautiful and how in love I felt, Pepper turned to me and said something like, Everything about that shop reminds me of you, Mum.

And of course from there I continued wandering down the street crying.

In my real life on the farm at the moment I don’t feel like I’m living a truly creative life. It feels like my days get swallowed by the kids and the farm and the house and driving and organising, and then it’s bedtime, and then I start all over again the next day.

All through my life as far back as I can remember I made stuff as much as possible. When my kids were little I have a memory of them jumping up and down on the trampoline, dressed head to toe in clothes I’d sewn for them, singing a song they’d made up called Kate Makes! And I did back then. I made everything: costumes, and curtains, and clothes, and accessories, and activities, and toys, and spaces. But somewhere over the past few years I feel like practical life has taken over and swallowed the craft. And although I’ve had short bursts here and there, I’ve definitely felt more farmer and less maker for a while now.

But somehow Pepper saw (sees) through me to who I truly am deep in my heart at my essence. Deep inside, where I am someone who lives and breathes and expresses myself in creativity. How could that work? How could Pepper see in me something I felt was invisible?

After that I spent time feeling sad, and then encouraged, and then hopeful, and then determined. I really want to live as Kate Who Makes again. I really have to.

So I made a promise to myself that upon our return home I would carve myself some time each day to make. No guilt involved, no expectations, no inner critic. My plan is to try to spend an hour a day. My hope is to focus on the process and not the end result. My aim is to get in the making zone; to feel, and breathe, and shape. I’m taking all the pressure off and giving myself six weeks for the warm up phase. There doesn’t have to be any end results, there just has to be exploration.

I’m starting with lumps of clay.

I’m wedging, and patting, and feeling the texture and temperature in my hands.

I’m pushing down and pulling up, I’m feeling the curves and the centre, and the shape. Sometimes I’m closing my eyes and trusting my hands and at other times I’m watching intently. I am not getting fixated on the end product but I’m studying the process. And each time I finish with a shape, I’m knocking it down, cutting it off, and starting all over again.

Soon I’m going to start sketching shapes that I hope I can form one day.

Each time I leave the shed, even though in reality all that I’ve made is a mess, I feel as high as a kite.

As well as clay I also want to pull out my sewing machine and try to stitch some fabrics together to make some clothes, or maybe a quilt, I’d love to play with some embroidery, I’m seriously considering signing up to a writing course, I’d love to test out some knitting designs I have in my head, and I’d love to play with some paint.

Gosh I’d better get a wriggle on, spring planting starts in about a month.

Oh and how sweet is this tiny Festival Sweater I’m knitting for my sister’s friend’s baby. Baby things are so ridiculously cute it’s not fair!

And I’m about halfway though Other Houses by Paddy O’Reilly which I’m really enjoying. It’s set in Melbourne and tells a story of a family dealing with poverty and addiction, and in a lot of ways reminds me of that great tv series Maid that we watched last year.

So that’s me and my creative musings for this week.

How about you? How are you feeling? What are the ways in which you’ve been expressing, or been meaning to express yourself, creatively lately? I’d love to hear all about it.

See you next week!

Love, Kate x