I recognize the piece, somewhere between what I first imagined and what it has slowly become after all the changes, corrections, and hours I almost forgot I had given to it,
I recognize the piece, not because it’s an exact replica of the original that captivated me, but now I can finally see my choices, including those I made forced my work preferences,
I recognize the piece, there is something deeply satisfying about reaching the point where I no longer need to explain every decision to the point I can freely see why it belongs there,
I recognize the piece, when I look at it now do I feel that quiet moment of knowing that this is finally something I would want to put my name on,
I recognize the piece, as i go on and on, the work begins to feel like something I have lived with rather than something I simply imagined and produced…
I stop adding, sometimes the hardest part of craft is noticing when another detail would only be there to prove that I could keep working,
I stop adding, resisting that familiar urge to fill every empty place when some spaces have already earned their right to remain quiet,
I stop adding, finishing requires me to accept that the piece can leave my hands before I have eliminated every possible imperfection from reduction of the work,
I stop adding, can I leave something alone when I know I could still change it without knowing whether the change would actually make it better,
I stop adding, and restraint becomes part of what I made, and I begin to see that leaving something untouched can sometimes be as intentional as changing it…
I let it stand, despite the minor imperfections that remind me of a human being making decisions, unlike an imaginary version that never tires, is uncertain, distracted, or even wrong.
I let it stand, because I no longer want perfection to become the condition that keeps my work permanently hidden from the world,
I let it stand, knowing that there will always be another version I could imagine, another possibility that might tempt me to reopen something I already finished,
I let it stand, can I accept the discomfort of releasing something before I have convinced myself that there is absolutely nothing left to improve,
I let it stand, and completion finally asks me to trust what I have made, there comes a point when another correction no longer makes the work better, only makes it harder for me to let it be…
I carry the lesson forward, taking what this piece taught me into the next one without needing to make the next work identical to what came before,
I carry the lesson forward, keeping the instincts that became clearer through practice and leaving behind the habits that made the work heavier than it needed to be,
I carry the lesson forward, every finished piece leaves me slightly different from when I began, sometimes the most important thing is what the work teaches me to become,
I carry the lesson forward: what did this work teach me about how I actually create when I stop trying to become someone else’s version of a true creative person,
I carry the lesson forward, and the next blank space does not feel quite as frightening anymore, until I see that I was never waiting for the fear to disappear—I was learning how to move with it…
Watchwords:
My choices inside the finished piece
Knowing when another detail is unnecessary
Restraint becomes part of what I made
Trusting what I have made
The next blank space feels different
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream: