And other tales.
So I spent nine weeks on the road this fall, which basically involves me racking up many many miles on my poor overburdened car, while traveling between two Renaissance Festivals (since my glass art is in both shows). I brought a tiny on-the-road studio to the festival I was staying at throughout the weekdays. And that’s when everything fell apart. My 7 different -and necessary- pairs of pliers rusted into non-usability when we had 12 out of 15 days of rain. The tent fell in, also due to the ridiculous amounts of rain. The sand clotted in the sandblaster… (again, rain.) So I had to come up with some new product ideas fast… and they had to involve the tools I had that were still working. Emerson was right.
My consistent little lifestyle of always knowing where my tools were, and that they were in perfectly working order had become a monkey on my back, molding me into a person whose mind was becoming smaller… and all because of my perfectly ordered life. I won’t lie and tell you that I took it completely in stride. There was, in fact, a night with much swearing, wine, and an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while I sorted through the problem.
But once I got over whining about the cruel hand life (and the rain) had dealt me, I started dreaming. I don’t know how other artists operate, but apparently when my hands are busy doing work that is familiar and requires little attention, my mind boldly goes where it never has before… into the land of problem solving, inventive ideas, and projects that go into the R & D section of my “can’t lose book”. I filled two pages with ideas in those nine weeks of drear and rain. I came up with three new products that I could immediately market. (My usual goal is to strive for one per quarter or four per year.)
So I guess I owe Emerson a thank you. I’m not sure that I’m a big enough hearted person to say thank you to whomever controls the weather though…