I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately, and have discovered that books on creativity are bullshit. Since the one that inspired my last post, several more pieces of Freecycle fodder have graced my bathroom bookshelf. Why are there in the bathroom? well, I could say that its because its my thinking spot, but its really because these rapid-fire textual insults to common sense irritate my digestive system… and sometimes its just easier to start off at the final destination.

In addition to having pages with as much text as a fortune cookie, this book is blatantly geared toward painters, a detail that was conveniently left out on the author’s website.

What am going on about? “Get a plant”.  An entire page of this book (3 sentences) is dedicated to the benefits of having a plant in your studio. What? WHAT? Really? I just paid $18 to be told I need a plant?! Wait… it gets better. “Wear pearls”. “Make faces at yourself in the bathroom mirror” I’m a dermatillomaniac… its a given. “Read a trashy novel” how about a trash book on creativity? “Wear you jammies in the middle of the day” Thats kinda… status quo. “Embarrass yourself” Oh please, lets not go there. In fact, lets not go anywhere else at all.

Did Peggy Hill write this book?

I can’t wait to talk to my life coach on Monday and tell her the good news; I’ve decided to throw up on a stack of copy paper, tape it together, and announce my first publication on the creative mind.

Really though, this rash of disappointing books has moved me to write down ideas for my own on the same topic. Why do I keep buying these? I guess I’m hoping for something groundbreaking I hadn’t thought of; something that will change my world.  I  need a book on creativity that doesn’t audibly suck, and I probably have to write it myself.


Wallpaper fail.

January 10, 2010

In my hunt for banner backgrounds (which I use wallpapers for), I came across the one below. Looks neat, yes? Blow it up and look closer. I only saw this after finishing a very cool banner… there are dicks in this wallpaper. Thats right, look again. I tried to tell myself that nobody else would see it and the banner was fine… but no. These dicks are all up in it.

Its ok to laugh at me now.

Symmetry crisis

November 7, 2009

Labradorite is one of those stones with almost too much personality to put in a setting; unfortunately thats  the destiny of this week’s shipment.

This gorgeous pear-shaped cabochon had an unusual deep indigo spot that I became obsessed with framing in silver. After a quick wire wrap job, I noticed some scratches in the wire left by my pliers. I spun a coil around the scratched spot and scorned myself for how stupid it looked.  This is where the project began its descent.

After a few hours of poking and shifting the ever-increasing pile of corrective coils and spirals, I was satisfied. I held up the finished piece that had grown from a pendant to a something of a tentacle monster having it’s hentai-like way with a neck wire. Holding  it backwards and upside down to check symmetry before photos, the beast showed itself. The pendant itself was asymmetrical… at the base. This wire-devouring monster had been built around a  fucked up base… like a strip mall being built on a sinkhole.

I worked to fix the structural hiccup for several hours, and then the focal stone broke. Stunned only temporarily by the overwhelming amount of fail, a swearing fit ensued and I went to bed.

Now I can’t find another cab that will match.

The fail tag has been earned.


New tag?

October 31, 2009

I might need to implement a new category or tag called “fail”, possibly in all caps.

After snapping several dowels, bruising my dainty digits, colorful diatribes with wire (I love a captive audience), and eventually fondling bags of frozen veggies to placate my hands… I learned how NOT to make heavy gauge barbed wire.

It started off as 4g, and I almost cried. After a few of my trademark trial and error attempts, 8g ended up working. Only after the base twist was finished, I asked OrigamiZen Jen (a handy rural diva who not only happens to know how to make the stuff, but is tatted with it as well) where to put the barbs. I did it incorrectly; the barbs were supposed to be strung on to a single wire before twisting the two. Crap. I put the barbs on anyway, and they spin all over the damn place. Fail.

So all this copper wrangling has left me with a ton of scraps. Being my father’s daughter, I pinned this morning’s 7-11 Domo cup to the  side of the desk for scrap collection. Eventually they’ll be melted down for something neat, but for now just having them out of the carpet is great. Well, that and Domo’s unflinching OMNOMNOM face makes feeding him wire clippings feel compulsory.

Mah Domo cup!