Archives for posts with tag: creativity

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After a crazy autumn and winter full of action, movement, and change, the past month has been eerily peaceful.  I’ve been sleeping well, have felt bizarrely uncreative, content to go to the semi full time part time job I manifested on a TV show with a crew I love working with, and have felt overall catatonic, foggy, and also calm and happy.  As dust settles after a tiny tornado blows through, my new life is falling into place and, like a spectator, I am watching it,  amazed at the ease with which things can happen when they are meant to and when one gets out of their own way.

Yesterday I attended a storytelling workshop at The Museum of Broken Relationships. First of all, you should go to this museum, in the heart of Hollywood, if you are able. Full of items sent in by people from all over the world, each one is accompanied by a story and I haven’t been that moved by an exhibit in a long time. From sweaters to tickets to bellybutton lint, each of us is made of the heartbreak and beauty of life and living and none would be where or who we are without the previous joy and pain that got us there. Second of all, storytelling, gratitude, and finding beauty within the mundane seem to be the common and recurring threads weaving my current interests together. I am being repeatedly led to the next right person, class, workshop, and idea at the perfect moment and, while I have no idea where it is all leading, I can feel the fog lifting.  There is something in the writing, improv, and stories that is working its way out, percolating and, as my nervous system calms and life settles, slowly finding its voice and path.

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I am sitting outside of a coffee shop in Albuquerque and a movie happens to be shooting across the street. Men in workbelts scurry around and I had to park around the corner because the street is full of “no parking due to filming” and “businesses are open” signs. And all I feel is relief. Relief that after sitting here for half an hour I can leave and go about my day. A day that didn’t start with an alarm and will end whenever I get tired and feel like going to bed. I’ve been off for just under two weeks and am only now starting to feel rested as the insomnia that dominated my last show begins to subside. 

I have a list of things I hope to accomplish during this self funded sabbatical, not the least of which is beginning to try to figure out a new way to make a living that doesn’t wreak havoc on my nervous system. Yikes! Whether it ends up taking over my film career or simply gives me more of a purpose and income in between film jobs, I don’t know. But, I do know that as I get older, the lifestyle that goes along with the film industry seems less and less sustainable for me.

I’ve signed up for writing classes and jewelry classes, I revamped my long neglected Etsy site, fresastudio.etsy.com, and am trying to stop thinking of such things as just hobbies, incapable of possibly supporting me. What if I gave them half of the hours I give my film career in a given week? Chances are they’d flourish. 

I am very grateful for a career that gives me the time to explore other options and has been such an interesting one for over a decade. But, at the moment, my studio is calling and I’m going to go see what I find there. I’ll let you know. 

  

Well, I haven’t been blogging enough lately for it to become a slog, that’s for sure! After what has turned out to be a very busy summer, I am finding my unemployed sea legs once again. And returning to the thing no one pays me to do; blogging, walking, cooking, making, and traveling.

Sitting in my favorite Albuquerque coffee shop (Zendo) this morning, I read the NY Times article, “When Blogging Becomes a Slog,” about a group of young design bloggers who are already feeling the effects of turning their passion into a profession. It eventually became a grind, they forgot about the joy component, and are now somewhat burnt out.

The article reminded me of a recent conversation I had with some fellow costumers. They were talking about how best to move up through the ranks of the department, in the hopes of eventually reaching the end goal of becoming costume designers. I commented that about six years ago I stopped looking to the film industry to be my creative outlet and instead let it become simply my job and the way I pay for the things that do fulfill me creatively. I had no interest in moving up and accepted that it was what it was for me; a job, with plenty of pros and cons.

I think there was a period of time when I would not have said that out loud, feeling somehow guilty that my job wasn’t my end all be all. Or that I was settling by not merging money with creativity and passion. I have endless hobbies, I have two different “business” cards for businesses that make me almost no money and yet, it works for me. I think it is a lucky few who figure out how to rely upon a passion to sustain them financially without it eventually becoming a grind and, well… a job.

At the moment, I’m enjoying one of the pros of my odd profession; a chunk of time off to do with as I please. Stay tuned!

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Sitting at my dining room table with coffee, scissors, glue, paper, listening to NPR, making.

Unpacking a box of paper, rubber stamps, and cards, I realized it had been almost two years since I had glue on my fingers. These items were boxed at the beginning of 2012, as I packed my entire house in preparation for my home renovation. I think the surprising part was when I realized I’d made it all the way through 2013 without opening it.

As a child, my mom frequently had valentine making parties at our house. Adults and children sat around the table together; drawing, painting, and collaging.

Then, as a teenager, I filled notebooks with images from magazines, poems, drawings, and stories. These books evolved into items made and sold in my apartment in college and then later on my Etsy site. Whether making items of paper or fabric, the common denominator was a collaged, layered, handmade feel for each of the items.

Over the past couple of years, my creative outlets have been more dependent on the digital world than the tangible one. Instead of cutting up magazines, I pin items on Pinterest. Instead of printed photos and stories, they go straight from my iPad to this
blog or through email to a writing instructor. I haven’t actually touched something I’ve made for a couple of years.

It was with this realization that I sat at my table yesterday, unrolled scrolls of printed paper, and started cutting and pasting, in the old fashioned sense.

Check out Fresastudio.etsy.com

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