clutter and clarity

i like to think that clutter is a means by which one can perhaps express creativity. 

i have no idea if this is true or not. 

one of my old bosses referred to his magnificent piles of papers in his office as:

ALLUVIAL FILING. 

in a related thread of thoughts, 

i read a fabulous magazine called:

Where Women Create

inspiring work spaces of extraordinary women

i long to be one of these women. 

i long to participate in their gorgeous and carefully crafted workspaces. 

i recognize that it is just not who i am. 

this reality really is frustrating. 

in reconciling the two of these diametrically opposed ideas, 

it has come to my attention that i can make artificial oases of pretty vignettes. 

perhaps this will help form real progress with the taming of the slob. 

which would be me. 

i have a small space in my basement. 

in the past couple of years it has gotten closer and closer to being a genuine work space. 

the only thing keeping me from that is spending significant chunks of time 

sorting,

 organizing and 

throwing things away. 

or sometimes mailing them to other diagnosed beadaholics. 

there are 6 drawers of filing cabinet space... 

now designated  to holding my collections of seemingly unconnected things. 

one of them holds my now retired grouping of drafting tools. 

drawing and drafting with these is now a thing of the past... since it has been nearly

twenty years of not really using them. 

in this time, computers have really come a huge distance...as has computerized drafting.

so why on earth do folks need circle templates or lead pointers anymore?

i am an old fashioned girl. 

i am sure that someday, personal journaling will finally take me by storm. 

when that happens, having this stuff on hand will be really helpful. 

also it will be vintage.

and that is my leit motif. 

perhaps my family crest ought to include a gekko 

as well as an ostrich with its head in a hole in the ground. 

the needlepoint commitment  of this has rolled around in my head for years. 

the gekko for its sticky padded feet and tenacity of hold. 

the ostrich for its awkward appearance and fleetness of foot when needed. 

{did i just out my foot fetish?}

the other drawers are designated to holding disparate items such as a large spray paint collection, that many an inner-city tagger could envy, 

unweeded idea files, 

special magazines, 

larger scaled ephemera,

and vintage wall paper rolls. 

yep, not normal stuff. 

i have some urban crawl happening. 

the space my husband staked firmly as his own when we decided to buy this house, was a huge portion of the basement. 

he created one 2o foot long work bench along one wall and a large flat table that slides along 

a runner at the end of the room.
the table is currently unsliding, since a pile of wood is blocking that action potential.
its purpose is to build or paint or repair upon.
{currently, it supports a lot of my flowers}

one of his two table saws is in the middle of the open space
 that is the yin-void to the yang-bench.
 a huge garbage bin is there too. 

this is a working carpenter's zone and is full of his crap.
totally, unequivocally filled with mixed wires, tools, chisels, piles of screwdrivers, 

plastic lidded boxes of paintbrushes, painting rollers, blue tape, duck tape, etc. 

as well as things for plastering drywall. 

the area is also filled with stacks and stacks and piles of wooden pieces. 

i literally can't bend down to pick something up off of the floor without knocking some planks to the floor elsewhere with my ass. 

i hate how full this is. 

and how there is no place to relocate anything to some other place.
all the other places are as full of the tools and materials of both of our trades.

a while back, i had purchased a couple of costume jewelry lockets. 

they had no means of attachment to anything for my purposes. 

i asked the mr. to drill a couple of holes for me. 

seeing that he could do such a thing, well, i got suspicious. 

how come he had the technology to do such a simple thing? 

so started my love affair with his drill press. 

and it has become a fully blown expression. 

i use the press every day. 

my gazillion flowery bits sit all around in cupcake tins, plastic ziplock bags, plastic shoe boxes, naked on the counter without any corral,

they experience sprawl. 

having everything out in front of me is a challenge. 

it allows me to do a magpie search for just the right thing and then pounce upon it. 

i am just not able to put stuff away all the time to fence in the mess. 

it disturbs me a lot, since i see it as a personal failure. 

when i read and scour my magazine about work spaces it is more pronounced than usual. 

however, when feeling a little personally kind and forgiving, 

i get to make stuff and appreciate that my way of doing stuff works for me. 

it is not the pretty way surely, but it is productive most of the time. 

and that makes my heart soar. 

at least high enough to make some things i find to be pretty

and just like these:

earrings du jour...

the past few days have been spent filling earring orders.
along with all other members of my floral jewelry garden.

here are a few other things culled from the work bench garden. 

sterility of space is a wonderful thing. 

it is best suited to the kitchen and bathroom spaces for obvious reasons. 

i just do not seem to thrive in it creatively. 

 it is an ongoing challenge to accept this about myself and my practices.

i remain hopeful that this will be soon. 

{oh and that i will find a personal drill press and work messily but guilt-free in my own designated space as a result}

off i go to finish several tasks...
mundane as they are, it is a small step forward for household calm to
do them.
finish editing pics to show you,
do daily dishes,
clean bathroom,
and
have a cup of tea.

nighty night all.
xo. 
w.