The Conversation of Introverts

Finally mounted and framed.

Sprouts!

Another small cut -- not an original and something I did just to keep the momentum going.  I like the idea though so considering doing a series with this flavor, but my own sketches...maybe 3?

Anticipation.

 
It made me ridiculously happy to see sprouts grow.  Sometimes I love how something so small can provide so much pleasure if you allow it.  The first batch are destined for a favorite meal to be made early this week. 

It's been crazy warm here. I have bulbs coming up in early February for pete sake.  I miss winter actually (only because I'm at home and not in the field!).  But the benefit is that I can spend more of my time exercising outside which always lifts my spirits.  The wind has been horrendous so I haven't been inclined to bike that much...but there is a canyon very close to where I live that I love to walk.  This particular canyon is becoming more and more popular as the years go by.  10 years ago, when I was home in the summer, I used to bike it and would never meet anybody up that road.  Now it is rare, no matter what time of day I go, to not pass by at least a few people.  This agitates me...but shouldn't surprise me given the proximity to town.  But there is one walker who I've come to rely on seeing.  He's an older gentleman, probably in his 70s and I think he goes up that hill almost every day that the weather allows.  Immediately, there is respect for that because this isn't a small hill!  I first started seeing him several years ago when my friend and I would hike up the canyon on a fairly regular basis.  The interaction when we passed was mostly a quick glance over by all of us, a shy hi and nod before the eyes would dart away.  The classic conversation of introverts.  My friend moved away last summer and so I've been heading up the hill alone.  And somehow I'm crossing paths with this guy almost every time.  And slowly, with each passing, the contact gets a bit bolder.  We don't know each others names and likely never will, but we now greet each other with an entire sentence.  In a world where lately I've been feeling more alone and isolated than usual, it's a strange, brief, and yet oddly comforting interaction that I've come to rely on. 

I finally managed to mount that first papercut I did in just 5 minutes a day and put it in a frame.  I'm not sure I like that particular frame, but it's all I have for now.  I'm pretty sure that ultimately it will get another (I think it needs a longer, more narrow frame).  Why the delay in mounting?  I kept asking myself that question (because it takes only a few minutes to get it safely mounted) and yesterday I realized that I don't know what to do with a piece of artwork that isn't intended for someone else.  And so I put off finishing it.  In our house, there is no evidence that I am creative outside of one gourd that sits in an inlay cabinet.  None of my drawings, none of my papercuts, with one exception, none of my photography.  The same cannot be said for certain friends and family (and even John's office which displays a drawing and a few photographs).  It's not that I'm not proud of what I do.  But I began wondering yesterday if I feel like I don't deserve the finished product.  Like it's okay to spend time creating for someone else, but it's not okay to spend that time making something just for me (oddly, I do not have this problem with knitting).  Or maybe I feel like I'm showing off if I put up my own stuff?  There are no answers right now, but it's something that I am realizing is very important for me to explore.  It may help answer a lot of questions surrounding my fear of creating.  In the meantime, I'm moving that framed piece closer and closer each day to my office where I intend to hang it as a reminder to get in my 5 minutes a day.  Maybe by April, I'll get enough nerve to finally put in on the wall.  

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Now playing: Crystal Ball by Pink

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