Sunday, November 11, 2007
Sharing my mess
Taking Monica up on her dare, I decided to share my 'mess'. I'm not ashamed, I don't feel bad. Granted it could used a little tidying up, but I don't think it's so bad. I attribute that to our cat Chief, you see - he will chew up polymer clay, he will drag around works in progress - he has no shame, he'll even take away my pin cushion if the mood strikes him. So when I'm not working on a project - it must be put into a container. I have a little Rubbermaid container on the floor with a locking lid - a must as I have discovered lids do not stop Chief. He finds particular pleasure in popping off unlocked lids and dragging out the contents of any given project.
So I have my beads sorted by color in the plastic bins to the left of my work space. To the left of that (on the floor) is a little tool box with my ultrasuede and fibers. In the cigar boxes are small completed projects and items that are to be given away. In the white box are my vintage sew on's, beads and nailheads. There are various items up on the shelves in addition to handmade items that make me smile there are little Rubbermaid drawers where I stash cabochons, crystals, doll faces and findings.
In the roll around drawers to the right of my workspace are my bugle beads, sequins, doll forms, small containers (such as altoid tins), ribbons, raffia, pearls.
Under my desk are packing supplies, travel bags for beading and the little bit of fabric that I own. To the left in the low shelving are books, magazines, buttons, glues, threads and frames
Leaves of Grass
This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body - Walt Whitman